several texts-two from Hal and one from Perry-updating me that all was well for the moment, then turned it off to go completely incommunicado. Then, naked and camouflaged, I lay down on my right side so that my tattoos would have as much contact with the earth as possible and put Fragarach in front of me, nestled against my chest and belly. I placed some precautionary wards about myself, then instructed my body to heal and detoxify while I slept, drawing on the power of Civic Center’s abundant (if somewhat chemically assisted) life energy.
I had escaped Aenghus Og’s machinations on this day, but at the cost of Fagles’s life. If I continued to let Aenghus test my defenses and provide him with a stationary target, eventually he would find a way to break me- especially with a coven of witches backing him up. So it was time to change the game somehow, and I had two choices: run like hell or fight like hell.
Running wasn’t attractive to me anymore, because I’d been there and done that for two millennia, and since I had basically pledged on my honor to Brighid that I would fight for her against Aenghus, it really wasn’t a viable option. On top of that, there was the betrayal of the Sisters of the Three Auroras. My ego didn’t want to let a bunch of Polish witches less than half my age get away with bearding me in my own den.
So it was going to be fight like hell, and about time too. I had managed to out-dither Hamlet, and the famous Dane’s words now haunted me: “I do not know why yet I live to say ‘This thing’s to do,’ sith I have cause and will and strength and means to do’t.” Hamlet promised himself he’d throw down afterward, but I think perhaps when he said, “From this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!” the limits of blank verse weakened his resolve somehow. If he’d been free to follow the dictates of his conscience rather than the pen of Shakespeare, perhaps he would have abandoned verse altogether, like me, and contented himself with this instead: “Bring it, muthafuckas. Bring it.”
Chapter 18
I awoke in the morning remarkably refreshed but with urgent pressure on my bladder. After relieving myself on the oak tree-out of sight of the few people strolling through the park-I took a deep breath, and it felt remarkably good. I twirled my arms experimentally and felt no tightness in my chest, and I smiled. The earth was so good to me, so giving and so kind.
I retrieved my cell phone and powered it on, checking the time: It was ten a.m., plenty of time to make it to Rula Bula. I pulled down my clothes, dressed, slung Fragarach across my back, and dispelled the camouflage, walking plainly in the world again. My bear charm was fully charged and I felt completely restored, albeit dreadfully thirsty and a bit esurient.
I had messages from the Tempe Police Department, at first requesting and then demanding that I contact them immediately, as well as messages from Hal, Snorri, and Perry.
Hal just wanted me to know that Oberon was a bottomless pit, and while my dog had been very careful with his car’s upholstery and he appreciated it, the blasted canine had destroyed his citrus air freshener for some unknown reason and left it in shreds all over his interior. All business matters he would tell me at Rula Bula.
Snorri told me Hal had approved his medical report and thanked me in advance for paying his very large bill.
In a message time-stamped at nine-thirty, Perry called to tell me that the shop door had been successfully replaced. More important, a “totally hawt” blond woman named Malina had shown up at the shop to say Emily would not require her tea or my services further; the contract was considered fulfilled. Whoa. Did that mean the adorable couple of Aenghus and Emily had broken up? Or did it mean something else? And he also said she asked about a letter from a friend of hers; she wanted it back really badly but Perry couldn’t find it anywhere in the shop, though he looked.
Ah, Malina had tried to get Radomila’s blood back. I bet she used that hair charm on Perry and he turned the store upside down trying to find it for her. And now I wondered if Fagles and the gang had gone through the books in my study when they searched my house. If they had, they might have found the scrap of paper with Radomila’s blood on it… and that associate lawyer of Hal’s easily could have missed it or not known its significance.
Better to save such questions for Hal at Rula Bula, I thought. I assumed my house and the shop would be watched, so I took a taxi instead to the widow MacDonagh’s house.
“Ah, Atticus, me lad!” The widow smiled a cheery greeting and raised her morning glass of whiskey at me from the porch. “What happened to yer bicycle that yer drivin’ up to me door in a taxi?”
“Well, Mrs. MacDonagh, I had myself one of the most hectic Sundays you could possibly imagine,” I said, seating myself in a rocking chair next to hers and sighing in satisfaction. That’s always a good thing to do with the widow: She likes to think that her front porch is the most welcoming and relaxing spot in the city. She might be right.
“Did y’now? Do tell, me boy.” She clinked the ice in her glass and eyed the level of liquid speculatively. “But first I’ll be gettin’ meself a refill, if y’wouldn’t mind sittin’ fer a spell.” She pushed herself up out of the chair with a couple of creaks and said, “Ye’ll be takin’ a glass with me, won’t ye? ’Tisn’t Sunday anymore, and I can’t imagine ye objectin’ to a cold handful of Tullamore Dew.”
“Ah, you’re right, Mrs. MacDonagh, I have no need to refuse, nor would I want to. A cold glass would be lovely.”
The widow’s face shone and her eyes began to fill as she looked down at me gratefully, tousling my hair as she made her way to the door. “Yer a fine lad, Atticus, drinkin’ whiskey with a widow on a Monday.”
“Not at all, Mrs. MacDonagh, not at all.” I really did enjoy her company. And I knew too well the loneliness that clamps around one’s heart when loved ones have passed on before. To have that companionship, the comfort of someone being at home for you for years, and then suddenly not to have it anymore-well, every day can seem darker after that, and the vise clutches tighter in your chest every night you spend in a lonely bed. Unless you find someone to spend some time with (and that time is sunlight, golden minutes when you forget you’re alone), that vise will eventually crush your heart. My deal with the Morrigan aside, it’s other people who have kept me alive so long-and I include Oberon in that. Other people in my life right now, who help me forget all the other people I have buried or lost: They are truly magic for me.
The widow returned with two glasses of whiskey on the rocks, humming an old Irish tune as she jiggled the ice around. She was happy.
“Now tell me, lad,” she said as she sank back into her chair, “what made yer Sunday so dreadful.”
I took a sip of the whiskey and enjoyed the burn of the alcohol and the chill of the ice. “At this point, Mrs. MacDonagh, I’m thinking I should have taken you up on your offer and gone to get baptized. Was the service properly mellow yesterday?”
The widow cackled and grinned at me. “So mellow I can’t even remember enough to tell ye what the father said. Right boring it was. But you,” she said, pronouncing the word carefully like an American and grinning, “had an exciting day?”
“Oh, aye. Got myself shot.”
“Shot?”
“Just a flesh wound.”
“Attaboy. Who shot ye?”
“A Tempe police detective.”
“Lord ha’ mercy, I saw something about that in the paper this mornin’! TEMPE DETECTIVE SHOT DEAD BY POLICE, it said, and a subhead said, Detective shot civilian without cause. But I didn’t read the whole thing.”
“Yep, that was me.”
“Well, I’ll be! Why did the daft fool shoot ye? It wasn’t because of y’killin’ that worthless Brit bastard, was it?”
“No, not at all,” I said. And so I whiled away a pleasant hour telling the widow just enough of the truth to entertain her yet keep her safe. Eventually I made my farewells, promised to trim that grapefruit tree soon, and walked over to Mill Avenue and thence north to Rula Bula. I got some odd looks, and people gave me a wide berth when they saw the sword hilt peeking over my shoulder, but otherwise it was uneventful.
I got there a few minutes early and Hal wasn’t there yet, so I took a seat at the bar and grinned charmingly at Granuaile. Gods Below, but she was a vision! Her red hair was still curly and damp from a shower she must have
