Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(55)
“I am volunteering freely and expecting no favors in return, Siodhachan. It’s done.”
I nodded acknowledgment, realizing that I’d have to find myself a lucrative job very soon. I’d never been much of a get-rich-quick sort of guy; a long life had allowed me the luxury of getting rich slowly through investments. I could raid the store of rare books I had buried years ago by the Salt River in Arizona as a temporary solution. Auction off a few of those and I could live comfortably for a while and maybe pay down a fraction of the debt I owed them. But even if I sold everything—a troublesome prospect since some of them were genuinely dangerous tomes—I doubted I would be able to pay their bill in full.
Since lingering would only expose me to the stares of unpaid mercenaries, I took my leave and shifted back to Flagstaff outside Sam and Ty’s house, wondering how I could possibly keep the war going in the short term. The Hammers of God were a welcome addition to the cause but not nearly as efficient as the yewmen. They would not be able to ignore the bullets of thralls, for example, who protected older vampires during the daytime. And the vampires could replenish their numbers faster than we could slay them by turning new victims. Without a much greater advantage, it would be a war of attrition that we had little hope of winning.
Oberon was stretched out in the grass near the house and saw me shift in. He bounded over to see me, excited to share some news. <Atticus, guess what? I heard Sam and Ty talking about the citrus air freshener Hal keeps in his car, and they think it’s stinky too!>
“Sweet vindication, eh?” I said, petting him on the neck.
<Yeah. Hey, your face looks like you’re trapped at an emo concert. What’s wrong?> Oberon asked.
“It’s a math problem,” I replied, leaving out the exhaustion and the beating I’d suffered.
<Oh. I can’t help with that. If you need something peed on, though, or a cat’s day ruined, I’m your hound. Or maybe you have a sausage on you that you’d like to get rid of?>
“No, sorry. I’m worried that there’s no solution to the vampire problem. There are many more of them than there are of us. Thousands more.”
<Thousands is more than millions, right?>
“No, it’s the other way around.”
<Well, are they all mad at you or is it just the one guy you told me about—Theo Phillip?>
“You mean Theophilus?”
<That’s the one. It’s just him who’s really after you, right? But the other vampires all do what he says. So what if you challenge him to a duel, like Julie d’Aubigny would? Then when you defeat him you can tell all the other vampires to drop dead, heh heh.>
“That’s … actually a good point.” I hadn’t heard of any specific vampires who wished to end the Druids other than Theophilus. If I could eliminate him—which was the endgame anyway—perhaps the rest of the vampires would redirect their attention to internal power struggles and leave the world’s three Druids alone.
<Of course it is! We don’t have to walk into Mordor. We can hop on the eagles and fly directly to Mount Doom!>
“The question is how I get to the eagles—or, rather, take the obvious shortcut you’re implying. I don’t even know where he is, and since he’s technically dead I can’t target him with divination. I know he must be moving around, and I figured he’d eventually come after me in person when he felt threatened enough. I was hoping the yewmen would either get lucky or goad him into the open, but that’s not going to happen now.”
<Well, who might know where to find him?>
“Maybe Leif does. I need a phone.” Hal had given me Leif’s number, but I had entered it into my phone in Toronto rather than memorize it, and that phone was still there, left behind when Owen kidnapped me from my hospital bed. I could call Hal again, however. “Come on, Oberon. Let’s go inside. Your advice was worthy of a snack.”
<Yes! You know, Atticus, I’ve been thinking that I should have a surname, and now that you bring it up, I think Snackworthy would be an honorable family name for a hound. What do you think?>
“Oberon Snackworthy, eh?”
<It sounds noble, doesn’t it?> When I didn’t answer right away, he said, <What? Is it too much?>
I knocked on the door before entering and shouted a greeting into the house, announcing myself.
“Yeah! Come on in!” a voice called, and Ty appeared shortly afterward. He was about to cook up a lunch of bison burgers, so that would serve instead of a snack for Oberon, and he loaned me his phone so that I could call Hal. But in looking through his contacts under H, I saw Helgarson there.
“Ty, you know Leif Helgarson?”
“Yeah. Not well, more like acquaintances. He was the vampire boss of Arizona, so he knew all the pack leaders and seconds. As a courtesy, he’d call to inform us when he was moving through our territory.”
“Is this number for him current?”
“Should be. Updated it when Hal was here and you called.”
“Fantastic.” The burgers were already in the pan and frying up by the time I got a call placed to my former attorney. He picked up on the second ring, which told me he was probably in the other hemisphere at the moment—where it was nighttime. His dry, cultured voice sounded amused.
“Hello, Ty,” he said, responding to the caller ID on his phone.