Free Three Slices by Chuck Wendig, Kevin Hearne, Delilah S. Dawson
Tags: General Fiction
around a mouthful. I nodded agreement, and we began walking.
All right, Oberon, why do you want to stay here so badly?
Do you see my eyes rolling at you right now?
Apples are only one ingredient. Where do you expect to get the finest chicken for this?
Oberon, that’s not a real chicken. Monty Python made that up.
You’re going to lose interest in this as soon as I give you another bath.
He had a point. Okay, taste test incoming. I plucked an apple for him and lobbed it in his direction. He snatched it out of the air and began his awkward chewing.
I’m sorry, buddy, we have to go to Toronto after a quick stop at the cabin.
As soon as we can.
“Mm,” Mekera said, finishing her apple and tossing the core. “So—just to review—who knows I’m here?”
“Just me, and soon, Manannan Mac Lir. It’s like a paradise made of privacy and vitamin C. But look, Mekera—”
The tyromancer affected a look of concern. “You said you should be going, right?”
“Ah. I’m trampling on your solitude already?”
She beamed at me, pleased I had figured it out so quickly. I think that once she saw me confirm the apples were safe, she was ready for me to go, and had endured me just long enough to finish. “Thanks for the walk. See you when you’ve rid the world of vampires, Siodhachan.”
“May harmony find you, Mekera.” I sincerely hoped it would.
“You know what?” A slow smile spread on her face as she looked around her. “It might. I’m grateful to you for the talk. I’m not ready to deal with the world’s cruelties yet, but I’m willing to think about it now.”
“Good enough.”
Oberon and I shifted to our cabin in Colorado, where someone had left a once-sizeable fire burning down by the creek and then smothered it with a layer of dirt. Granuaile and Orlaith were nowhere to be found, but the elemental informed me they were in Asgard in the company of Odin, trying to remove Loki’s mark.
“Well, I guess I can’t avoid it any longer, Oberon,” I said, after showering and changing into something that wasn’t caked with mud. “I have to go back to Toronto as Nigel.”
“You don’t. But I don’t want a protracted war either, and being Nigel for a while is the best way I can think of to keep it short.”
I scratched my friend behind the ears. “That’s all the war I ever want you to see.”
To be continued in Staked , book 8 of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Read more by Kevin Hearne
1.
I SHOOT my cuffs, step into the dining car, and play my favorite game: Who should I kill?
Not that I’m going to kill anyone. I’m not allowed to—and it would be bad manners. So, I just smile my sharp smile and nod my polite nods and cut through the crowd of placid
All right, Oberon, why do you want to stay here so badly?
Do you see my eyes rolling at you right now?
Apples are only one ingredient. Where do you expect to get the finest chicken for this?
Oberon, that’s not a real chicken. Monty Python made that up.
You’re going to lose interest in this as soon as I give you another bath.
He had a point. Okay, taste test incoming. I plucked an apple for him and lobbed it in his direction. He snatched it out of the air and began his awkward chewing.
I’m sorry, buddy, we have to go to Toronto after a quick stop at the cabin.
As soon as we can.
“Mm,” Mekera said, finishing her apple and tossing the core. “So—just to review—who knows I’m here?”
“Just me, and soon, Manannan Mac Lir. It’s like a paradise made of privacy and vitamin C. But look, Mekera—”
The tyromancer affected a look of concern. “You said you should be going, right?”
“Ah. I’m trampling on your solitude already?”
She beamed at me, pleased I had figured it out so quickly. I think that once she saw me confirm the apples were safe, she was ready for me to go, and had endured me just long enough to finish. “Thanks for the walk. See you when you’ve rid the world of vampires, Siodhachan.”
“May harmony find you, Mekera.” I sincerely hoped it would.
“You know what?” A slow smile spread on her face as she looked around her. “It might. I’m grateful to you for the talk. I’m not ready to deal with the world’s cruelties yet, but I’m willing to think about it now.”
“Good enough.”
Oberon and I shifted to our cabin in Colorado, where someone had left a once-sizeable fire burning down by the creek and then smothered it with a layer of dirt. Granuaile and Orlaith were nowhere to be found, but the elemental informed me they were in Asgard in the company of Odin, trying to remove Loki’s mark.
“Well, I guess I can’t avoid it any longer, Oberon,” I said, after showering and changing into something that wasn’t caked with mud. “I have to go back to Toronto as Nigel.”
“You don’t. But I don’t want a protracted war either, and being Nigel for a while is the best way I can think of to keep it short.”
I scratched my friend behind the ears. “That’s all the war I ever want you to see.”
To be continued in Staked , book 8 of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Read more by Kevin Hearne
1.
I SHOOT my cuffs, step into the dining car, and play my favorite game: Who should I kill?
Not that I’m going to kill anyone. I’m not allowed to—and it would be bad manners. So, I just smile my sharp smile and nod my polite nods and cut through the crowd of placid
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