Oh, no. Oberon, stay with me—
My hound flinched and stepped back from the tree, and I couldn’t shift him away without that contact. Something changed in his eyes as his lips curled back from his teeth, his ears flattened, and he growled at me.
Oberon? Oberon, answer me. It’s Atticus.
He didn’t reply. I was getting nothing from him. The iron talisman around his neck hadn’t been powerful enough to stop the frenzy of Bacchus; if I wanted him truly protected I’d have to bind his aura to it like I had mine. The muscles bunched in his hind legs and my heart sank.
Oberon, no!
He leapt at my throat. I was able to sidestep, and we collided broadside as he passed. I scrambled for the tree in the few seconds I would have while he landed and turned to attack again.
Damn it, Oberon! I began to mentally shout his favorite words to him in hopes that it would shake him loose from the thrall of Bacchus. Sausage! Poodles! Snacks! Treats! Barbecue!
None of it helped. He bounded after me and I put the tree between us, which would slow him down a little bit but wouldn’t keep me free of his teeth for more than an extra second or two. Zeus must have thrown Flidais our way, because she landed behind me with a shriek and crunch of leaves. When she got to her feet she’d probably come after me, being the nearest thing she could kill, or else she’d attack Oberon and wouldn’t restrain herself. Bacchus had made a bollocks of everything, and Jupiter still hadn’t been able to get him to shut up.
Taking what I considered an acceptable risk, I squatted down next to the tree so that my right side was protected against the trunk, and held up my left forearm crosswise just below my chin. I didn’t have long to wait before Oberon barreled into me, taking my arm into his mouth in the instinctive strike at the throat and laying me out flat. His teeth sank deep, and he tore into it, shaking his head in an attempt to move the arm out of the way. In a moment he’d let go and dive in for the kill. I numbed the pain in my arm to keep my head clear.
I put my right hand on the trunk of the tree and found the tether to Tír na nÓg. Tearing my own forearm in the process, I yanked Oberon’s head toward the trunk so that he’d have contact with it—he certainly had contact with me already. I heard Flidais approaching, so far gone that she was not merely letting loose with a battle cry but actually ululating.
When Oberon’s muzzle hit the tree I shifted us to Tír na nÓg, leaving Flidais and Perun to the dubious mercy of the Olympians. I noticed the quiet first—the Fae plane lacked screaming gods. I resumed talking to Oberon on the theory that his thrall to Bacchus would be severed with the plane shift. When I’d kicked Bacchus into the portal that sent him to the Time Islands, all of his Bacchants came back to themselves after I closed it.
Oberon, stop! It’s Atticus! Oberon, no!
His eyes cleared and he went still. <Atticus?>
I smiled in relief. Yeah, it’s me. You can let go now.
<What? Gahh!> He unlocked his jaws and my bloody arm flopped down. <What happened? You’re bleeding! Great big bears, did I do that?>
Yes, but it’s okay, it’s not your fault. Bacchus drove you mad.
<But I attacked you?>
Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll be fine. I’m already healing.
Oberon began to hack and spit as best as he could. <I have to get this out of my mouth. Is there water nearby?>
We can shift there. I took him to the river of Time Islands first so that he could rinse out. He kept apologizing to me the whole time, and I did my best to soothe and reassure him. I closed up the skin on my arm quickly and showed him it was all fine, even though it would take longer to rebuild the muscle underneath.
I hoped Flidais and Perun wouldn’t be killed by the Olympians in their fit of madness—and I hoped they wouldn’t kill each other. As long as they survived, however, I would think that had gone very well. Both Zeus and Jupiter now had reason to believe me, Jupiter owed me one, because he’d said he could control Bacchus and then couldn’t, and I could now shift anywhere I wished. It didn’t really matter if Bacchus never swore to leave me alone; without the help of the other Olympians, he’d never catch me.
Of course, I was rather saddened that Herne had to pay such a steep price in all of this. I wondered if there was any way I could possibly make it up to him. Perhaps Manannan Mac Lir could do something for him.
Shifting closer to the center of Tír na nÓg, we found Granuaile in Goibhniu’s shop, resting on a cot. The arrow had been removed, the wound bandaged, and she was staring at the ceiling, concentrating on her healing process.
Without saying hello, I affected a casual manner, as if I’d done nothing more than wait in line at the bank, and said, “Well, I made it out of there.”
Her face lit up when she saw me, which served as a reminder of how very lucky I was.
“Atticus! Good. Now I can stop worrying.”
“Not quite yet. Thanks to Bacchus, Flidais and Perun have gone a bit crazy, and we should probably lie low for a while. We need to go somewhere far away where you can heal properly. Preferably a Pacific island or somewhere in the New World. Someplace without an Old Way to get there. Any suggestions?”
Her eyes rolled back up to the ceiling as she considered, then fixed back on me. “How about Japan?” she said. “I’ve never been there but I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Done.”
<Are we going to get some authentic Kobe beef? I heard all the stuff in America that’s labeled Kobe isn’t the real thing.>
We might. You never know.
“Where’s Goibhniu?” I asked, looking around the shop.
“He ducked out shortly after removing the arrow. He hadn’t heard yet about the Morrigan dying and seemed pretty upset when I told him.”
“Oh. That’s understandable.”
Something in my tone caused Granuaile to examine my face with concern. “You need to talk about it, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said solemnly. “I do. We will once we get ourselves settled in Japan.” The practicalities of making that happen suddenly made me laugh. “Hal is going to shit an ostrich when I call him from Tokyo. But first I’m going to dash back to the cabin and get some clothes and things for us, all right? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I planted a kiss on her forehead and another on the top of Oberon’s, then left Goibhniu’s taproom to shift somewhere else entirely. I intended to go to the cabin as I’d said, but I needed to make a detour first.
Chapter 29
Lord Grundlebeard was overdue for a visit. He was my best lead on finding out who had orchestrated my hunting and attempted assassination. But I didn’t know his real name, and if I asked about him in Tír na nÓg he might hear of it before I could get to him. A better gamble, I decided, would be to seek out Midhir. Either he was the man behind it all anyway or he could tell me where to find Grundlebeard.
If Midhir truly was the mastermind, then I didn’t want Oberon and Granuaile along; neither of them had the magical defenses I had, and Midhir truly was the sort of magician who could turn someone into a newt. They’d be safe with Goibhniu.
Instead of shifting to our cabin in Colorado, I shifted to Brí Léith in Ireland, the old síd of Midhir. It’s near the modern wee village of Ardagh in County Longford. Some people call such hills “faery mounds” today, and some may even harbor a genuine superstition about them but don’t understand their true function: Every single síd of the Tuatha Dé Danann is an Old Way to Tír na nÓg. In fact, they are the oldest of the Old Ways.