Home > Scourged (The Iron Druid Chronicles #9)(9)

Scourged (The Iron Druid Chronicles #9)(9)
Author: Kevin Hearne

“How well did you search that compound?”

“We thought we were thorough. I’m sure Leif was too.”

“So you searched the rooms behind the library?”

“What rooms?”

“There are passages behind the bookcases. Tremendous traffic through there, and scents of vampires that did not match the scents of the slain ones. The smells are recent too.”

“Are you saying there are vampires in there right now? And they could hear us mucking around?”

“That is indeed what I’m saying. Especially if they have some modern surveillance devices installed, which I suspect may be the case. If we go back we may find they have emerged. Or else they will hear us approach and hide again.”

“So there must be some kind of Scooby-Doo lever that opens up a secret passage.”

“What is Scooby-Doo?”

“A long-running television show that demonstrated to everyone what a terrible idea it was to wear an ascot. The protagonists solved mysteries in old houses that frequently had secret passages behind bookcases, always activated by moving a particular book or a small knickknack or even a torch in a wall sconce. There has to be a way through.”

“We can unbind the cellulose of the wood if nothing else.”

“So we’re doing this? We’re going to go down there and slay the undead?”

“Is that not why we traveled here?”

“Okay. I’m up for it. But before we go, I’d really like to hear that message from Brighid.”

“Oh, yes! I nearly forgot. Ragnarok is coming soon.”

“What? How could you forget something like that?”

The goddess shrugs. “Because I am not to be involved in the primary fracas. Siodhachan and Eoghan will be engaged in the main battle, along with many others. But we have heard of a building disturbance on the other side of the planet, on an island named Taiwan. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes.”

“Apparently it is to be the origin of the second major front. So you and I are tasked with containing whatever emerges at the site of the smaller, secondary, and inevitably lesser fracas. This is to ensure I won’t run into Perun, you see.”

“That may indeed be the reason behind what they’re doing, but it doesn’t sound like light duty. It could be one heck of a major fracas. Just you and me against who knows what?”

“Well, somebody does know what, or at least is supposed to have a fair idea. We’re going to go see him first. I’ve been given directions and passwords and a rare fruit from Manannan Mac Lir’s Isle of Apples.”

“Who is it we’re seeing?”

“Some man named Sun Wukong.”

“Holy shit. Flidais, you’re not joking with me right now, are you?”

“I do not jest. That is whom we are supposed to see. Why, do you know him?”

“Only by reputation. Sun Wukong is the name of the Monkey King.”

i returned to the sandstone buttes of the Navajo Nation, baked red and gold in the sun, and found a place to wait high above the arroyos cut by flash floods. I built a spare, smoky fire out of creosote branches, folded my legs underneath me, and communed with the elemental Colorado.

I waited most of the day, skin cooking slowly among the rocks, and wondered if I wasn’t wasting my time. I’d already made a couple of other calls before coming, but it wasn’t like I had no other preparations to make. I couldn’t afford to wait past nightfall, and I had to heal from sunburn several times.

He arrived late in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, dust-caked jeans and boots scuffing the rock, a simple black T-shirt tucked in and a cowboy hat resting on top of long black hair.

“Hello, Mr. Druid,” Coyote said, trying to peer around my body, looking for something. “Where’s your hound? I brought sausages.” He held up a greasy bag and I winced in regret.

“Oh, he’s going to be upset that he missed seeing you. He’s in Oregon.”

“Well, damn. I mostly came to see him.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t act like it’s news. He’s always been your better half.”

“I won’t argue with you.”

“Well, damn it all again. That’s the only other reason I came. Guess I have no business being here.”

“Coyote, please,” I said as he turned away. “May I beg a few minutes? It could lead to a fine argument. You might even win.”

He halted, pivoted with a grinding noise underneath his boot heels, and considered me with pursed lips. After a long silence of holding my eyes in a staring contest, he finally replied, “You know how to push my buttons, don’t you, Mr. Druid? You know I can’t resist arguing with a white man.”

“You’d probably enjoy Twitter, then. But I wouldn’t push if it weren’t important.”

Coyote tossed the bag down and settled himself across the fire from me, peering through curling vines of smoke. “All right, then. Bring it.”

“I need your help.”

“No.” He snorted and flashed a grin. “That was quick.”

“It’s not just me, Coyote.”

“Honestly, Mr. Druid, I don’t care who you’re representing here. Why should I help you instead of helping my own people?”

“Because there’s a narcissist with a bunch of cronies who wants to burn down the whole world—your piece of it included—for no other reason than to stoke his own ego and profit besides.”

“So, kinda like an American president, then.”

I gaped for a second as I tried to make the connection, then closed my mouth. “Yeah, kinda like that.”

“Well, I seen men like that before, Mr. Druid. I’ve survived them, and my people survived them too, and I’m pretty sure we’ll outlast this new one. And before you say anything,” he said, pointing a finger at me through the smoke, “let me remind you that you never lifted a dainty finger o’ yours to help us fight off all o’ them presidents. And not just us, but all the tribes. And, hey, I’ll be a sweaty sack o’ nuts if you ever helped with all them settlers and soldiers who did their best to wipe us out, never mind the presidents. Don’t try to tell me you’re in the same boat as us either. Ain’t no way we coulda helped the Druids out against the coming of the Christians. But you coulda helped us and you chose not to.”

“That’s not true. I couldn’t help. I was hiding from Aenghus Óg and had to limit my magic usage.”

“Well, I understand that, Mr. Druid, I surely do. So I hope you’ll understand when I say we gotta limit our dying for white man’s causes.”

“But you don’t die.”

“Oh, I die, all right. I thought I made that clear before. The fact that I keep coming back doesn’t mean I don’t die. My people die too. But still we endure. Getting involved in this thing you’re talkin’ about doesn’t sound like the best way to keep doing that. I figure the best thing to do, since y’all have mostly forgotten about us, is let you fight it out and we’ll enjoy the peace afterward.”

I deflated for a moment, defeated.

“Okay. Fair enough. I don’t think you’ll be left alone or that there will be a lot of peace afterward if we don’t stop him, but I do see that you’ve done more than your fair share of fighting dudes who think the world is theirs to take. That’s legit.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much for validating my feelings, Mr. Druid. I was really hoping you would. Gonna sleep real well tonight. Normally I have to pop melatonin pills down my throat like candy, you know, because some white man hasn’t told me I’m right recently.”

“Sorry. That obviously didn’t come across as I intended. I’m trying to agree with you. But this guy can probably take the world if anyone can. I’m talking about Loki of the Norse pantheon. He’s going to bring a legion of the undead, a good number of fire and frost giants, and who knows what other allies with him. You might be safe here for a while on this side of the world, but if he’s not stopped on the other side, by the time he gets here there will be no stopping him.” I shook my head at the scale of what was about to be unleashed. If Loki wasn’t stopped before he could build momentum, it would be because I failed to stop him. It would be because I had been stopped. “This is going to start day after tomorrow, probably, somewhere in Scandinavia. If you want to help, that’s where to show up.”

   
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