Staked
Page 40“Hello, Ty,” he said, responding to the caller ID on his phone.
“This isn’t Ty. It’s Atticus.”
“Ah, my favorite Druid. What a pleasure to hear from you.”
I was in no mood to exchange pleasant banter with him and could no longer conceive of a time when I would be. “Where are you now, Leif?”
“Why do you ask? Is it time to relieve me of the burden of undeath?”
“Not yet. More interested in whether you are with Theophilus.”
“Oh, no, I am cast out now. A Lucifer in the veritable heaven of vampirism.”
“Excessive pride led to the original fall, I believe. That sounds about right. I hope it wasn’t anything I did.”
“It was, but I assure you that I am content with my place. I’m still on the coast of Normandy, near where we last met, sipping from the wine-infused blood of the French. I like to drink from the people who drink pinot noirs best. Delicious bouquet.”
“I’m happy for you. But since you are so content and unfettered by obligation, you should have no problem telling me where to find Theophilus.”
“Only the problem of uncertainty. He does not keep me apprised of his movements now that I am out of favor.”
“Give me a guess, or tell me who can point me to him.”
“I am truly severed from reliable associates, alas. My best guess is that you will find him in Prague at the moment.”
“The Grand Hotel Bohemia is his favorite. Heavy curtains on the windows and scrupulous attention to guest privacy.”
“This had better not be a setup, Leif.”
“It is, as I said, only a guess. Act on it or not, as your conscience dictates.”
Oh, I would act on it, all right. I’d leave Fragarach with Ty and Sam and take the new stake with me and act on it with gusto.
“Enjoy your pinot blood,” I said, and ended the call with my thumb.
CHAPTER 15
It’s been too long since I’ve had any sleep. Greta wouldn’t let me until she was sure I’d handled the concussion, so it’s dark by the time me vision and thoughts clear up. She takes me to one o’ those hospitals like Siodhachan was in and runs me through all these machines that can take pictures o’ your insides without cutting through the outside. By that time I’d had enough help from Gaia to set me brain right, so the doctor says, nope, Mr. Kennedy is not concussed, but that left shoulder is a mite dodgy, innit?
He introduces himself as Dr. Sudarga, and he smells like he’s fond of vanilla soap. Greta tells me later that his name indicates he’s from a place called Indonesia, or anyway his family was generations ago. He shows me X-rays and points out all the fractures and muscle tears and whatnot, and I think it’s pretty helpful. Seeing the image gives me focus on what to fix, and that will make me healing more efficient.
“Great,” I says. “I’ll get right on that.”
“I beg your pardon? How are you getting on it?”
Apparently I’ve said the wrong fecking thing, and Greta hurries to explain. “He means he’ll rest and follow your instructions to the letter.”
“Not if it includes taking drugs,” I says, and Greta sighs and puts her face in her hand. I get the idea that I’m supposed to do whatever Dr. Sudarga says. His eyes shift back and forth between me and Greta.
“Try it and I’ll immobilize you, lad.”
“Owen!” Greta exclaims.
“What? We don’t need instructions or anything else.” I do understand that I’ve been rude somehow, so I turn to the doctor and try to let him down easy. “Dr. Sudarga, thank ye kindly for showing me that picture of me bones, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. All I want now is a shot of whiskey and a bed.”
“If we don’t immobilize that shoulder, your muscles might not reattach correctly and you could be looking at permanent damage. It’s likely you’ll need surgery.”
“It’s not likely at all. I told you I’m on it and it’ll heal up just fine.”
He blinks and looks at Greta. “If he leaves without treatment, I’m not responsible.”
This is such an obvious statement that I don’t know why he wastes breath on it.
“May harmony find ye,” I says, and I leave the room. I hear Greta apologizing to him, which I don’t think is necessary, and I get a fine long lecture afterward about how strange behavior like that is going to get written down and remembered and maybe invite official scrutiny. The better thing to do would have been to let him put me in a sling and then take it off as soon as we left.
“If we never go see a doctor again, then we don’t have to pretend like that,” I says. “Look, it’s fecking dawn already. We were there all night to find out that I’m not concussed and my shoulder’s rubbish, which I already knew when I went in.”
“I wanted to confirm your head was all right, and that was the only way to do it. The Tempe Pack has a doctor in it and he knows about our unusual healing. With everyone else we have to make allowances.”
“Maybe they can allow me to take care of meself,” I grumble.
“So ornery! If you hadn’t already had your ass kicked, I’d kick it for you.”
“You have the apprentices to teach this morning.”
“Aye, but I don’t think it’s safe to roam around the property yet until I shut down that troll’s path to me Grove. Will ye take a walk with me into the woods to look for it after I focus a bit on me shoulder?”
“Sure.”
Once we’re back at the house I take time to reconnect with the earth, bind those tiny fractures together, and make sure the muscles are attached properly. They’ll need time to rebuild before I can use the arm, but once I’m satisfied that the foundation is set, I use that trick Siodhachan taught me to ease the pain and let the healing continue on its own as I walk. I slip me knuckles on as a precaution. No telling what we might find up there in the ponderosa pines.
We don’t have many evergreens in Ireland, and the smell is still something new to me nose. I like this forest and the crunch of the needles underfoot, the skittering noise of a kicked pinecone, and the chattering of squirrels. Greta’s walking on me right side, her breath steaming the air, and it’s a bracing winter morn—or near enough. It’ll be solstice before we know it. She grins at me and feels lovey enough to grab me hand and squeeze it.
“Feeling better?” she asks.
“A bit,” I have to admit. “Trees are always the cure for your modern bollocks.”
“How do we find where the troll arrived?”
“We can either track it by smell, because by all the drunken gods that lad had a powerful scent, or I might get lucky and be able to spot the path in the magical spectrum.”
“Smell would probably be faster,” she says.
“Aye. When we find where the trail ends, that’s where he emerged, and then I can either untether the tree or figure how to destroy the Old Way.”