“That is because I had no answer. At the time I had only suspicions, not confirmed evidence, and I could not share those with you and turn you against certain members of my coven without firm proof. Surely you understand this.”
She was pretty smooth, and I found myself flirting with the idea that she might actually be an honest witch- as rare as an honest politician, if not more so. My prejudice would not allow me to trust her, but perhaps I did not need to send her Emily’s head in a box as I had planned. Despite what I had told Granuaile at the meadow, frightening people only pushes back the date of an inevitable fight. Cooperation makes fighting unnecessary-or, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “I destroy my enemies when I make them my friends.”
“What has your coven decided to do now?” I asked. “Hunt down the Druid that killed your sisters?”
“Of course not,” Malina scolded. “They clearly gave you just cause, and they got their just deserts. I told them it might not turn out well.”
“What are your plans, then?”
Malina sighed. “That actually depends quite a bit on your plans, Mr. O’Sullivan. If you are planning some sort of pogrom against Polish witches, then I suppose we would prefer to flee rather than fight. But if I can convince you that we mean you no harm, then we would much rather stay in Tempe in a state of mutual nonaggression.”
“Having you leave town sounds pretty good to me. Not much of a downside there, in my view.”
“I respectfully suggest there might be. Our coven has kept undesirables out of the East Valley for many years now. We have chased off innumerable brujas over the years and a spate of voodoo priests after Katrina hit New Orleans. Last year we quietly took care of a Kali death cult. I also know that there is a group of Bacchants in Vegas that would love to expand here, but we have repulsed every foray into our territory. If you would like to deal with these problems in our absence, so be it.”
“No, I had no idea that you were so active or so territorial.”
“This is a nice place to live. We would like to keep it that way.”
“I like it here too,” I admitted. “Very well. Convince me that you mean me no harm.”
“Are you willing to give us equal assurance?”
“I suppose that depends on what sort of assurance you seek.”
“Let us have your lawyer draw up a treaty. We can spend as much time on the wording as you wish. When all parties are satisfied, we will sign in blood and the lawyer will keep it.”
A nonaggression treaty signed in blood? Something about that struck me as oxymoronic. “I will begin the process with you in good faith,” I said, “and see where negotiations lead us. What I want you to understand-what Emily and Radomila did not understand-is that though I avoid conflict where I can, it should never be misinterpreted as weakness. You expressed disbelief earlier that a member of the Tuatha De Danann should be afraid of me. But last night I killed him, and on top of that I took care of a horde of demons and your former sisters.” I left out all the help I had. I didn’t actually kill a single member of her coven, but she didn’t need to know that. “It should be clear to you that Wikipedia knows nothing about what a real Druid can do.”
“Crystal clear, Mr. O’Sullivan.”
“Very well. My lawyer will contact you in a week or so.”
That left me with a wizened witch’s head to dispose of, but I was glad that I wouldn’t need to use it after all. I knew precisely what to do with it. I cast camouflage on it and myself and crossed the street to Mr. Semerdjian’s house. With some patient coaxing, the earth underneath his eucalyptus tree opened up and I tumbled her head into a hole beneath its roots, then closed the earth over it and dispelled the camouflage.
After that, I sent a courier over to Granuaile’s place with a check for the money I’d promised and wished her a safe journey.
Perry got an early-morning call asking him to keep the store running, and in return he’d get a week’s paid vacation in a few days. The widow MacDonagh also received a call, reassuring her that her favorite Irish lad was still alive and planned to have that long talk with her soon. And then, finally, I went to take my rest.
I shucked my clothes and lay down on my right side so that my tattoos got maximum contact with the earth. I sighed in relief as I felt the first comforting wave of energy fill my cells. I must have fallen asleep inside of ten seconds, only to be rudely awakened ten seconds after that. The Morrigan flew into the yard, cawing loudly, and changed into her human form.
“Now that you are in a position to recharge yourself, Druid, I would like my energy returned to me.”
Well, hello to you too, Morrigan. Yeesh.
“Thank you very much for the use of it,” I told her diplomatically, and offered her my left hand. “Please take it back.”
She grasped my hand, and when she was finished draining what was hers, my arm dropped to my side like a dead fish. I couldn’t move again.
“You used way too much Cold Fire,” the Morrigan said. “You should plan on being immobile for a couple of days. I hope you put on some of that lotion the mortals are so infatuated with. Can’t have you dying of skin cancer.”
The Morrigan laughed mockingly and then squawked harshly as she changed into a crow and flew away. And she wondered why she didn’t have any friends.
Epilogue
The Chiricahua Mountains in southeastern Arizona have a sere beauty to them. One of the things I enjoy about the desert is the hardiness of the plants and animals that live there. Rains are unpredictable and the Arizona sun can be extraordinarily harsh, yet life thrives in the Chiricahuas, albeit without the lush display you find in wetter climes.
The Chiricahuas are unusual in that there are several “sky islands”-old volcanic ranges that jut nine thousand feet above the desert grasslands-featuring diverse ecosystems.
Oberon and I hunted mule deer and javelina there, and we also terrorized a couple of coatimundis just to hear them chitter at us. We didn’t find any bighorn sheep but refused to let that small disappointment mar an idyllic outing.
‹This place is great, Atticus,› he said as we rested by a canyon stream, enjoying the gurgle of the water as it tumbled over rocks and eddied around the stalks of cattails. ‹How long can we stay here?›
I wished I could tell him we could stay until he tired of it. This was what I’d fought and lived for-a world without Aenghus Og in it. There wasn’t a place in Tir na nOg finer than that spot by the creek, and I couldn’t remember a time in recent centuries when I’d felt more at peace than there with my friend at that particular moment. It reminded me that Oberon had magic of his own: He could focus my attention on how perfectly sublime life can be at times. Such moments are ephemeral, and without his guidance I might have missed many of them, working so hard to get somewhere that I would fail to recognize when I had arrived.
Just another couple of days, I said. Then I have to get back to the shop and let Perry take his vacation. There was also the matter of the dead land around Tony Cabin to heal, and I needed to figure out how to grow back a convincing right ear. All I’d been able to do so far was grow a disfigured lump of cartilage, and it had yet to earn me a single admiring glance. I might have to resort to plastic surgery.
‹Aw. Too bad. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, then.›
I have a surprise for you to enjoy when we get back home.
‹Did you get me that movie about Genghis Khan?›
It’s in the Netflix queue, but that’s not the surprise. You don’t need to worry, it’ll be something good. I just don’t want you to feel depressed about going home.
‹Oh, I won’t. But it would be cool to have a stream like this in the backyard. Can you make one?›
Umm… no.
‹I figured. Can’t blame a hound for trying.›
Oberon was indeed surprised when we got back home to Tempe. Hal had made the arrangements for me, and Oberon perked up as soon as we were dropped off by the shuttle from the car rental company.
‹Hey, smells like someone’s in my territory,› he said.
Nobody could be here without my permission, you know that.
