Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(12)

“Well, then, why do you need the Realtor person?”

“Lots of legal reasons. And it prevents the buyer and the seller from getting into fights.”

“Oh, well, I can understand that, then. I bought some bad venison once from a man who lived in a bog, and I wanted to pound the piss out of him. Should have had a Realtor do it for me; that would have been handy.”

“No, Owen, that’s not what Realtors do—”

“Well, they fecking should! There’s all manner of men living in bogs who need a good thrashing, and I bet there’s people who would pay. Could be a full-time job. Maybe it should be my job. Siodhachan says I’m supposed to have one.”

Greta gives up trying to explain Realtors after that, and I stop asking and just let her handle the modern horror of it all. She finds a place outside city limits, which suits me fine, with plenty of tree-dotted land attached to it and a house that’s way too big but she says will come in handy.

“Handy for what?” I asks. “I don’t need a fecking castle.”

“You might,” she replies.

I have no earthly idea what she means and she says to wait, she wants to sit me down with Hal and Sam and Ty and talk through something.

The sit-down comes a couple days later at Sam and Ty’s house when Hal drives up special from Tempe. They give me fancy beer and smile a bit too wide. They have cheese you can spread on crackers and clearly expect me ancient mind to be destroyed by the sheer cleverness of the idea. They must want to ask me to do them a favor and they’re afraid I’ll say no.

“All right, what is it, then?” I says. “If you’re going to try to convince me to get one of those cell phones, ye might as well give up now.”

“No, nothing like that, Owen,” Greta says. “As far as we know this is something you actually want.”

“All right, I’m listening.” I sink into a brown leather couch, and it sucks away at me backside like it will never let me rise again.

“From things you’ve said to me, I believe it’s your wish to train additional Druids.”

“Right, right. Not sure where I’ll find parents to let me do that, though. These people don’t believe in magic, and if they do they don’t want their kids involved in it.”

“Well, there are some parents who do believe in magic and would like their kids to be Druids very much.”

“There are?”

“Yes. Parents who are werewolves.”

“What’s that, now? I thought ye couldn’t have kids. The transformation would kill the baby every time.”

“That’s correct, but there are a few recently turned wolves around the world who had children before they were bitten. And of course they’re worried about them. They don’t want their kids to become wolves, but neither do they want their kids to feel excluded from their lives. They see Druidry as a perfect compromise. Their kids can remain in the magical world and even run with packs once they can shape-shift, but they never have to live with the curse of lycanthropy.”

“How young are we talking?”

“Let me ask instead, what would be the ideal age?”

“Six to eight. They absorb languages easier when they’re young, and I can shape their minds to handle headspaces much better than if you start later. That way they would be bound to the earth when they’re eighteen to twenty,” I says.

The wolves exchange a glance, and it’s Hal Hauk who speaks next. “We know of six children who fit that range. If you’re agreeable, we’ll have their parents transferred to the Flagstaff Pack and then you can be in charge of their instruction going forward.”

“Well, hold on a minute now.” I try to sit forward on the couch and it fights me. I have to paw at the damn armrest to pull meself up. “You’re suggesting I start a grove here in Flagstaff? On Greta’s land?”

“Why not, Owen?” Greta says. “We have the space. We have privacy. We have lots of trees on the property. And you can build what structures you want in addition to what’s already there. A greenhouse, maybe, for herbs and vegetables.”

Six apprentices at once. With the full support and resources of the werewolves. It sounds suspiciously good.

“These kids haven’t been bitten, right? You can’t bind ’em to Gaia if they’ve been bitten.”

“No, no, they’re perfectly normal in every way,” Hal assures me. “It’s just their parents who are different.”

“Once they’re bound, you know, they can’t ever be affected by a bite. Gaia won’t let them turn into werewolves. It’s why I can spar with ye without fear.”

“That’s a definite plus as far as we’re concerned,” Greta says.

“They’ll be vulnerable until then, mind.”

“We understand. Strict safety measures will be in effect. They already are.”

“Well, then,” I says, “I’m not opposed.” Smiles break out and I hold up a hand to stop them. “But don’t get too excited and don’t do anything yet. We don’t want to start something like this if Siodhachan is going to come along and cock it all up. I haven’t heard from him or Granuaile in a while, and I should make sure they know to leave me alone from now on.”