Free Tricked by Kevin Hearne Page B

vessel, see? So she sent her son, Monster Slayer, to help us out, a onetime limited engagement. « So that had been a god inside him. An aptly named one.
    Granuaile’s footsteps approached from the south. » I’m assuming it’s safe now? Ugh, « she said, looking at the headless corpses. » What are those things? «
    » They’re sort of like zombies on Red Bull with a little bit of ghost mixed in, « I said.
    Frank moaned and his eyes snapped open. Then he closed them again and raised a hand to his head, saying something in Navajo that made Coyote laugh. He must have a killer headache. Coyote helped him up to a sitting position and patted him companionably on the back.
    » All right, Mr. Collins, « Coyote said. » It’s your turn. Who was that lady? «
    » Yeah, « Frank said. » I nearly crapped my pants. «
    » That was Hel, « I said, » the Norse goddess of death. «
    Frank turned to Coyote to see if he was buying it. » He’s not bullshitting? «
    » Naw, this guy don’t usually tell stretchers about gods, « he answered. Then he asked me, » What did she want with you? «
    » She, um, wanted my help, I guess. «
    » Help with what? « Granuaile said, her lip curled. » Personal hygiene? «
    » Um … destroying the world. « I tossed Moralltach aside and sat down heavily in the red dust next to Frank, executing a double face-palm. Saying that out loud took quite a bit out of me. What had I done when figures like Hel approached me as a potential ally? My primary reason for going through with the Asgard trip had been to preserve my honor by keeping my word. But I saw no honor in an unstained name now. If Ragnarok began because of me, no one would remember or care that I followed through on my promises. There would be no kind historians to write apologetics for me.
    Usually I try to suppress any emotions that savor of regret, because they are invariably aperitifs to a main course of depression, and for the long-lived, that’s a recipe for suicide. But that doesn’t mean they can’t sneak up on me sometimes.
    And, like, gang-tackle me.
    I felt a slight spell of vertigo as the enormity of what I’d done hit me. I wept silently behind my hands for Mrs. MacDonagh, for Leif, for Gunnar, for Väinämöinen, for the Norse, and for the untold suffering to come because of my bad decisions. Druids were supposed to be forces of preservation, not destruction, and I could not dance around the fact that my stupid pride had turned me into a misbegotten cockwaffle.
    Granuaile squatted down next to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. » Well, clearly she didn’t like what you had to say about that, « she said.
    » Just checkin’ here, « Frank said, his voice thick. » Geologists don’t normally get invited to help destroy the world, do they? «
    Behind my hands, I shook my head. » No, « I said. » No, they don’t. « I pressed my tears away with my palms and then dropped them to my lap. » But don’t ask me who or what I really am right now. I’m supposed to be dead. «
    » Well, it seems to be a day for dead people to be walkin’ around, « Frank said. » And disintegratin’. « He pointed over to the draugr bodies, which were turning into ash and mixing with the dust of the plateau.
    » What was the deal with that freaky knife she had? « Coyote wondered aloud.
    » It’s called Famine. She said the next thing she cut with it wouldn’t rest until it had eaten me. «
    » Ew, « Granuaile said.
    Oberon tried to cheer me up. › I’m going to give her a point for originality. » Druid: It’s what’s for dinner! « But then I’m going to take away three million points for how she smelled. ‹
    Frank Chischilly narrowed his eyes. » Did she say if it works on only one thing or on as many things as she cuts with it? «
    » That’s a pretty specific question. Why do you ask? «
    » Because there’s a couple of skinwalkers livin’ north of here. She’s headed right for ’em. «
    › What’s a skinwalker?