Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(17)

“Atticus, where are you?” he said.

“Toronto. Look, Hal, I need you to get ahold of Leif and ask him for Werner Drasche’s number.”

“What?”

“You can still get in touch with Leif, can’t you?”

“Yes, but who’s this Werner Drasche?”

“Long story. I just need his number right away, okay?”

“Okay, but we’ve been trying to get hold of you regarding something else. Your archdruid wants to start a grove up near Flagstaff, take on six apprentices.”

“Apprentices? Where’d he find them?”

“I found them. They’re the children of pack members, born before their parents were turned.”

“Sounds perfect! Except that things are going to be warming up on the vampire front. You all should look out, take precautions.”

“Were you responsible for this morning’s headlines?”

“Yeah, that was me. Or sort of me. Remember that guy in my shop with the beard who tried to throw a silver knife at you that one time?”

“Oh, yes, that odd rabbi.”

“He’s much more calm now. It was his organization that did all that last night, using information I gave them. I’m moving fast and ambushing them as much as possible, but they’re going to catch up with me eventually. There could be blowback, especially after today, so you guys should watch out.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

A familiar growly voice shouted in the background of the call. Hal said, “Your archdruid says to meet him in Tír na nóg at the Fae Court. He has something for you.”

“All right, I will, but I have things to do here first. Werner Drasche’s number.”

“Call you back soon.”

It was only five minutes of agonizing waiting in the old chapel before Hal called back with Drasche’s number and gave me Leif’s as well for future reference.

“Leif was only too glad to cooperate,” he said. “Said to tell you to carry on, you’re doing well.”

“Gods below, he’s a smug bastard.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“I’ll have to tell you later. Clock’s ticking.”

We rang off and I dialed the number for the arcane lifeleech. He picked up immediately and answered in German. I replied in English.

“Hello, Werner. It’s your favorite Druid.”

“O’Sullivan! Where are you?”

“Probably not that far from you if you’re in Toronto.”

“I am. Your little stunt will not do you any more good. I’ve sent notice that everyone should move.”

“You must be very popular among the vampires right now, what with compromising their security and making them lug their coffins around. And all those staked vampires on the West Coast. Your people will be scrambling around to keep the reports on all those autopsies secret.”

He cursed in German. “That witch in Africa said you’d never return to Toronto!”

Mekera was a tyromancer, not a witch, but Drasche probably would not care about the distinction. “She told you the truth as best she could see it. I’m just unpredictable. We have that in common, Werner. When you killed my friend Kodiak Black, you left a note that said you wanted to talk, yet all you did in Ethiopia was spray bullets at me. That’s uncommon rudeness, Werner, especially when I spared your life the first time we met.”

“You want to talk? We’re talking now.”

“It’s not good enough somehow. Let’s do it in person. I have something to say to your face, and I bet you’re wearing a fabulous ascot today. Meet me in Massey Hall on the corner of Victoria and Shuter in a half hour. I’ll be inside.”

I disconnected before he could reply. Whether he came alone or with a bunch of hired muscle, the people of Toronto would be safe. He couldn’t leech anything from an empty theatre. I ducked my head back into the classroom and saw Gwendolyn still hovering there, a vision in red.

“Everything’s settled. Shall we go?” I extended a hand to her and she floated toward me, something approaching a smile curving the slash of a mouth on her face. We descended the grand staircase together, and the single person we saw on the way froze for a second and then hurried up past us without saying a word. When we stepped outside into the sunlight on the steps where she died, I paused to look at her.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready, Nigel,” she said, though her voice was a faint whisper in the daylight and she looked like someone had gotten too enthusiastic with the transparency slider.

“Excellent. Please don’t trouble yourself about these roads and the strange carriages and clothing people wear. There have been a few changes since you passed. Progress.”

She made no answer, and it was just as well. I had to worry instead about other people troubling themselves about the red apparition floating next to me. Perhaps I would get lucky, I thought, and I’d be the only one who could see her.

That didn’t happen. I was hailed twice on the brisk walk to Massey Hall, once by a pedestrian and once by someone in a car, and asked what was that red smudge next to me.

“What?” I asked. “I don’t see anything.” That got rid of them. They would no doubt make optometrist appointments soon.