people were at the scene and possibly involved in the killing-one of them barefoot. Friends identified the body based on hair and tattoos.
“Huh.” I paused and looked up from the paper. “I wonder who identified me.”
“It doesn’t say?”
“No. It goes on, though. Check this out.” The FBI has jurisdiction over murders committed on reservation land. Though agents could not be reached for comment, authorities in Tempe noted O’Sullivan’s recent troubles with the law. Detective Kyle Geffert of the Tempe Police Department said, “Mr. O’Sullivan was shot by Tempe police a couple of months ago and was on the scene at the Satyrn Massacre in Scottsdale. Also, one of his employees died rather suddenly last November.”
“Gods Below, can you believe that guy? He makes it sound like I killed Perry and deserved to be shot.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly endear yourself to him during that investigation,” Granuaile pointed out.
“I know, but there’s no call to go around smearing me now that I’m dead,” I said.
“You might want to keep your voice down,” Granuaile said in low tones, her eyes darting significantly to the tables nearby.
“Good point.” Seeking validation for my own point that Geffert was out of line, I said in a hushed whisper, “Oberon, don’t you have anything to add?”
“We haven’t even gotten the first orders yet.”
No validation for me, then.
“What else does it say?” Granuaile said over the rim of her coffee mug. The sun streaming through the window left golden highlights in her red hair and lit up her green eyes. The light dusting of freckles high on her cheeks was unspeakably charming and…
“Atticus?”
“Hmm?”
“The article.”
“Oh, yes.” I raised the paper to hide my embarrassment.
Shh. I have to read this. O’Sullivan was the owner of Third Eye Books and Herbs in Tempe. The current manager, Rebecca Dane, was shocked to hear that her employer had passed. “The last time I saw him, he said he was going on vacation to the Antipodes,” she said. “I have no idea why he’d be in Tuba City.” Regular customer Joshua Goldfried noticed a change in Mr. O’Sullivan’s behavior in the past few months. “Ever since the middle of October, it always seemed he was nervous about one thing or another. He was always so good about being here, but he started to disappear for days at a time.” Mr. O’Sullivan was shot by a Tempe police detective in late October in his store and subsequently sued the city for $5 million. Hal Hauk, attorney for Mr. O’Sullivan, confirmed that the City of Tempe had just agreed to settle Mr. O’Sullivan’s lawsuit against them for a seven-figure sum.
“Whoa. Does that mean you’re rich?”
“I’m already rich. But, regardless, I instructed Hal to give my share of the settlement to the family of Detective Fagles. Wait, it gets good here.” Mr. O’Sullivan’s murder was among the bloodiest and most brutal of any in Arizona history. While the murder itself may have been committed by a single person, the dismemberment and mutilation of his body afterward was undoubtedly performed by a group of people wielding different bladed and blunt weapons. Mr. O’Sullivan was seen wearing a sword in Tempe by multiple witnesses before his death. Authorities from Tempe and Tuba City refused to speculate on a motive for the killing and denied that there was anything like a sword-based Fight Club organization.
Granuaile laughed at that.
Oberon said.
Our food arrived as we shared a chuckle over the article. As plate after plate was set down, I kept scanning the newspaper.
“Anything else?”
“Nah, it just continues to imply that I must have done something naughty to deserve this. What’s really interesting is that it doesn’t mention the bodies of Tyr or Vidar. Or any evidence of the Morrigan’s orgy.”
“I beg your pardon?” Granuaile’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, and those green eyes, though still lit by the sun, carried a cool steel warning in them. I took heed.
“As I was leaving,” I explained, “the Morrigan mentioned her desire for an orgy in the mud. I don’t know if she actually had one or not, but she certainly seemed intent on it.”
“An orgy with whom?”
“She was hoping to attract the locals,” I said, leaving out the part where she originally hoped to attract me. “But now I’m wondering if she went through with it. She probably ate Tyr and Vidar instead. She does that, you know, when she’s in crow form. She eats dead bodies.”
Granuaile blanched. “Ew. Gross.” She looked down at all the sausage and bacon sides waiting on the table. “Kind of puts me off my appetite a bit.”
Ah, right you are. Sorry, Oberon.
I camouflaged a plate of meat and then pretended I was picking something up off the floor when I was really putting something down for Oberon. He’d find it by smell, no problem.
“How could she put away two fully grown men, though?” Granuaile asked, in spite of herself.
I shrugged. “I never stick around to watch, and I never asked. It’s a mystery.”
After breakfast, it was errand time. We each rented a post-office box and then spent a tedious hour setting up bank accounts under our new identities, using what remaining cash we had. Armed with addresses and bank accounts, we each got new cell phones. Then I put in a call to the offices of Magnusson and Hauk, my attorneys. To get past the receptionist and actually talk to Hal, I had to identify myself as a “close friend of Atticus O’Sullivan” and stress that I was a new client who wished to put Mr. Hauk on retainer.
“This is Hal Hauk,” he said, his voice distant and bored.
“Mr. Hauk. My name is Reilly Collins.” Hal knew very well who I was. He was the one who’d given me my new driver’s license, birth certificate, and Social Security number. He knew I’d be calling at some point to set up a “new” relationship once I got settled. This entire charade was for the benefit of anyone who might be listening in. “I’d like to put you on retainer and meet with you for a consultation, if that’s possible.”
“Where are you, Mr. Collins?”
“Kayenta. I’d like to see you today.”
“Impossible for me, unfortunately. However, I can send an associate to see you this afternoon with all the necessary paperwork to get started.”
“Can we see this associate here well before sundown?”
“Hmm. It’s something of a drive, so we could probably make mid-afternoon if we hurry.”
“Please hurry, then, Mr. Hauk. I have an important engagement at sundown.”
“All right. I’ll send Greta.” Greta was a member of Hal’s pack who seemed to get stuck with all of Hal’s odd jobs. She wasn’t a lawyer, but she was utterly trustworthy and utterly unimpressed with me. “Where shall she meet you?”
“The sub place on the main highway. We’ll buy her a sandwich with extra meat and everything.”
“That’s extremely kind of you,” Hal said drily. “She will be thrilled.”
We made good-bye noises, I gave him my new number to pass on to Greta, and I snapped the phone closed with satisfaction. “That’s good. Once we give him power of attorney, he can start moving funds from my other accounts.”
“How many accounts do you have?”
“Hundreds, scattered around the world under various names. I got into the practice thanks to Aenghus Og. The constant need to flee meant that I needed safe places to run, which often meant cities, and surviving there meant I needed funds. Hal knows about twenty of them.”
“Do you really need so many now that Aenghus Og is dead?”
“Eh. They’re not doing me any harm. They’re just sitting there earning interest. Might need them down the road.”
Granuaile conceded the wisdom of this. “What are we doing next, sensei?”
“We have most of the day to wait until Greta can get here. Let’s do some training for you and some play for Oberon.”
We drove to a small undeveloped area in the township boundaries that supported a few rabbits and some
