Free Hexed by Kevin Hearne Page A

out by Tony Cabin needs my attention. It won’t come back for centuries without my help. « Aenghus Óg had killed many square miles of the earth by opening his portal to hell, and while he would be paying for it by spending eternity burning there, the land was still barren and cried out for aid.
    » Oh, yeah, absolutely. Won’t you need a car for that, though? «
    » Nope. You get to drive me, so you’ll be gone more often too. «
    » Okay, now it makes sense. «
    » That’s what senseis do. While I’m gone and it’s dead in there, work on your Latin, using that software I bought you. «
    After ringing off with Granuaile, it was time to rummage around in my garage. It held all sorts of things instead of a car—shuriken, sai, a couple of shields, fishing tackle, and plenty of gardening tools. It was also where I stored my bow, a modern compound number with ridiculous pull on it. I couldn’t draw it without magically boosting my strength; I figured it should give the demon something to howl about. I also found a quiver full of carbon steel arrows and set them next to my bow near the front door.
    With an hour to kill before Coyote was due to arrive, I jogged up Roosevelt Street with Oberon to visit the widow MacDonagh and pay some attention to her lawn.
    It was only nine in the morning, but she was already out on her porch sipping a glass of Tullamore Dew on the rocks and reading a hard-boiled mystery novel. Her weathered face split into a wide smile when she saw Oberon and me trotting up her driveway.
    » Ah, me dear lad Atticus! « she cried, setting down her novel but not her glass. » Yer a fine bloom o’ spring on a cloudy fall day, an’ that’s no lie. «
    I chuckled at her poetic greeting. » Good mornin’, Mrs. MacDonagh. You could lift a lonely man’s heart from fifty leagues away. «
    » Tish! I’ll have to be bakin’ ye some brownies for that spot o’ blarney there. ’Tis yerself that’s good for the heart. Come here and give us a hug. «
    She rose from her rocking chair, glass in hand, and opened her arms to me. She was wearing a white cotton dress printed with a blue floral pattern, and a navy shawl was draped about her shoulders; it was finally getting chilly in Tempe, and it looked as if a cold rain would soon fall to renew the desert. She patted my back as we embraced briefly and she said, » I can’t imagine such a handsome lad as yerself bein’ lonely fer any reason, but it’s God’s truth that I’m that happy to see ye whenever ye stop by—Oh, hello, Oberon! That’s a colorful bit o’ clothing yer wearing. « She scratched behind his ears, and Oberon’s tail thumped against her porch rails. » Ah, yer a good hound, aren’t ye? «
    › Tell her I’m a Peace Dawg, but I think her cats are closely allied with the Man. I’m going to stick it to them. ‹
    » Can I get ye somethin’ cold to drink, Atticus? A finger o’ the Irish, perhaps? «
    » Oh, no, thank you. I must be off soon enough to fight some hellspawn, and I can’t be impaired in the slightest. « The widow had abruptly learned that I was a Druid shortly after she learned that werewolves weren’t just the stuff of legend. When most people are confronted with a paradigm shift like that, their clutch burns out and they need a new mental transmission. The widow, however, had hardly lost any speed, taking it all in stride and even mothering me a bit when I showed her my missing ear. She’d given me a tube of smelly ointment from Walgreens, unaware that I could make much better for myself from scratch.
    » Ah, fighting more demons, are ye? Well, won’t Father Howard be pleased to hear that? « she chuckled. She moved back to her rocking chair and invited me to take a seat next to her.
    » Father Howard? « I frowned. » You’ve told your priest I’m a Druid? «
    » Tish, I’m still not that daft, me boy. And even if I were, it’s not like he’d be believin’ me. To him I’m no more’n that saucy Katie MacDonagh