Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(71)

When I reach the door, I’m afraid Beau might not take the proper lesson from this. “You were right, Beau,” I say, calling to him. “Granuaile is dead. I’m someone else. Someone you can’t control.” A line from Whitman floats up into my consciousness and I seize on it. “I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me. Bye now, Beau. Shut down Thatcher Oil and Gas and move on.”

Out the door when it opens, Orlaith, I tell her. I take care to turn on the safety, shove the gun in my waistband, and open the door. Orlaith trots out smartly.

The secretary is on the phone, calling for reinforcements, but looks up at our exit.

“Oh. Oh god. She’s here.” The phone drops from her fingers and she raises her hands. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Nobody’s dead. Just don’t move,” I say, closing the door and concentrating on the wood—a paneled composite, I realize, rather than the solid hardwood I was expecting. I’m still not good with binding the unseen, so I forget the lock and perform a different binding instead, fusing the wood of the door to the jamb. Beau and his minions will have to be hacked out of there to get out. My hand is still on the doorknob and someone tries to open it from the other side as I work. I maintain my hold on the knob until I complete my binding, and then he can rattle the doorknob all he wants after that.

“Call 911!” the guard shouts from behind the door. “We need an ambulance!” Binding complete, I let go of the door and turn to the secretary.

“Did you hear that?”

She nods at me, eyes huge like hardboiled eggs.

“Well, better get on it, then. Tell them to bring something to hack through the door.”

I head for the stairwell, ruling out the elevator as a death trap. The secretary watches me go until I’m past her desk, then she grabs for her phone.

Move down these as fast as you can manage, Orlaith, I tell her as I open the door. But stay in contact with my hand. As soon as it clicks shut behind us, I speak the binding that will turn us invisible again, drawing on a dwindling reserve of energy. I’m still somewhat stiff from my encounter with Weles, despite my opportunities to heal, so I can’t move as quickly as I would like. After a few flights down we hear the door above slam open and boots clomping after us. Additional security must have arrived via the elevator only to be told by the secretary that we went downstairs. On the third-floor landing, I hear a door open below and hold up, telling Orlaith to stop.

Squish yourself against the wall right here, away from the banister, I tell her. More boots pound upstairs and soon three black-clad security guards round the banister, stick to the rail, and hurry right past us on the landing, soon to meet the other guys coming down. I wait for them to round the next flight before giving Orlaith the all-clear. Let’s keep going down, but try to go quietly.

<My toenails click,> Orlaith mourns.

I think it will be okay. Their boots are loud. Plus they’re shouting at one another now, wondering where we are.

We sneak out without incident after that, I toss Beau’s gun into a public trash can—the kind with a lid on it, so people can’t see it in there—and I keep a hand on the back of Orlaith’s neck to guide her a couple of blocks away, out of the immediate vicinity of the building and security cameras. The invisibility melts away in an alleyway before I can dispel it, the energy completely drained from the silver reservoir of Scáthmhaide, and then, as sirens wail on their way to aid my stepfather, I shudder from the adrenaline comedown and wonder what I should be feeling.

I sink to my knees and wrap my arms around Orlaith’s neck. “This is so strange,” I tell her. “I feel terrible and awesome at the same time. Pretty sure that’s wrong.”

<Why?>

“I’m supposed to feel just terrible for utterly failing to be a good person up there.”

<You’re a good person! The best person.>

“But I didn’t need to be violent. Even when he pulled that gun, I could have used Druidry instead of my weapon. Thrashing him felt good, but still I’m horrified at my lack of control. Thank you for stopping me from doing anything more.” The fact that he needed an ambulance was bad enough.

<You’re welcome. Maybe it was a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes. That one time I chewed up your slippers was a mistake. It was fun to chew them, but once I knew it was wrong I didn’t do it again.>

That makes me laugh. “You have a point there.” I think, not for the first time, that Oberon and Orlaith are far more emotionally stable than humans. Hounds have much to teach us, as do all the creatures of the earth. I’ve made my share of mistakes, but thank all the gods that I have yet to regret choosing to become a Druid. I get to my feet and dust off my knees. “Okay, back to the park, and then we shift out of here.”

We might be observed by traffic cameras on the way, and authorities might trace my path later, but there is no helping it. I have nothing left to keep us camouflaged across the city.

During the jog to the park, I continue to ping back and forth between elation and guilt. I’d undeniably done a good thing for Gaia by shutting down the operations of TO & G, but in hindsight my visit with Beau was definitely a mistake. He doesn’t feel remorse over what he’s done. He doesn’t see that I’m right, only that I can punch him whenever I want and get away with it—and that I can make leather shoes stick to his upholstery. Maybe my leaving that binding in place, along with sealing his office door, will be a nice reminder that I’m not playing by the rules he’s used to. That might be the only thing that gets through to him, short of driving his company bankrupt. I do hope that he decides to get out of oil without further prompting, but it’s more likely that I will have to slowly choke his company to death. And no one should doubt that I will do it, with purpose and vigor and justice for Gaia.