Though I’d already determined it would be unwise, I asked anyway to see what Odin would say: Can’t we just take the Eurostar train underneath the channel and avoid all that?
<You can try. If you think you can sneak past the sentries they have at the station and wish to trap yourself in a metal container with plenty of innocent people, and if you wish to break the rules of engagement that prevent them from flying down in front of your current location, by all means, go right ahead.>
He knew very well I wouldn’t do that. What about Artemis and Diana? Any word on them?
<They are back in Olympus, breaking in their new bodies, awaiting yet another set of chariots to be made. They will not be on the trail again for some time.>
I breathed a private sigh of relief—and not just for the extra time. I was glad Diana hadn’t died a true death, for if she had, there would have been no possibility of a negotiated peace between us.
Odin added, < I found your treatment of their heads to be amusing.>
Yes, well, I’m sure they found it less so. Listen, Odin, I need a favor if you can manage it. Get word to Manannan Mac Lir of the Tuatha Dé Danann what’s been happening—and Flidais too, I guess. We need some Irish help to get across the channel, because we don’t have anything that can skate us past Poseidon and Neptune, and we’ll probably need Flidais to help us in the UK after that.
The raven squawked at me, and Odin’s voice said, <I am not your errand boy.>
I know, and I said it’s a favor. I sensed that Odin wasn’t opposed to helping me, but I’d failed to throw a sufficient sop to his ego first. Thanks to a meal I once shared with Odin and Frigg, I remembered that the Norse diet in Valhalla was quite restricted and unvarying, and Odin might be tempted with gustatory delights. In thanks for which, I’ll send you some Irish whiskey too, plus some Girl Scout Cookies. He could no doubt secure such items on his own if he truly wanted them, but things always taste better when they have the added flavor of contraband.
<Oh, well, if we are exchanging services, that’s entirely different. I want a gross of those Samoas I overheard you mentioning to the witches in Poland and a case of Redbreast. And I mean the fifteen-year-old stuff. Not negotiable.>
Done. As long as Manannan shows up and we survive.
<I will do my utmost to ensure he appears. A question before I go: Do you know anything about the vampire situation?>
What vampire situation?
<Rome is in an uproar. Or, rather, I should say the rest of the world is—Rome itself is now silent. Twenty-seven vampires, all of them quite old and part of the vampires’ power structure, were slain yesterday during daylight, their heads missing.>
I frowned. Only vampires? Didn’t they have human bodyguards?
<Thralls, yes. Also dead. Their deaths are not causing the uproar.>
“Interesting.”
<You know nothing about it?>
I knew all about it. I’d asked Goibhniu to arrange the whole enterprise the last time we were in Tír na nÓg. The idea was to put a bounty on vampire heads, starting with the heart of their power in Rome, and let all the pods of mercenary yewmen know. I couldn’t have known it would work so well or that they’d coordinate and take out every vampire in the city, but I’d hoped for a significant disruption to the vampire chain of command. This sounded like a complete decapitation of their leaders—literally—and it might explain why we hadn’t seen any more vampires since the Polish border, as well as why Leif might be too busy to deliver his own messages. Odin didn’t need to know that, however. There was no telling who else he was talking to, and I didn’t need to have the mysterious puppet master in Tír na nÓg hearing about it and letting the vampires know that I was paying for their heads.
Nope, I said, not a thing beyond what you’ve told me. It certainly brings me joy to hear it, though.
<They were looking for you, weren’t they? This should ensure that they remain preoccupied with their internal affairs for the near future, which coincidentally benefits you, doesn’t it?>
It’s a happy coincidence, I agreed. Theophilus struck me as the sort who preferred to rule from the shadows and not get directly involved, but I bet he would either be required to rule himself now or expend all his efforts in putting some puppets in charge. One of those might be Leif. And I’m sure Leif would be figuring out how to turn the situation to his advantage, as would every other vampire.
<Yesss,> Odin said, Hugin’s head cocking to the side and managing to convey that Odin didn’t think it was a coincidence at all. <Well. I’m off to find your sea god. You can leave the cookies and whiskey at the drop point in Colorado.>
Many thanks, Odin.
<I am grateful to you for the entertainment. The Einherjar are betting heavily on the outcome, and your return from the dead caused settled bets to become unsettled. The fights that have broken out have been inspired. How did you manage to come back from a bullet to the head, by the way?>
I shrugged as if it were nothing. He didn’t need to know that. How are the odds?
<In your favor now,> Odin replied. <But they’re betting the woman and the dog don’t make it. Three to one against.>
I broke the connection before I said something unforgivably rude.
Chapter 17
We arrived in Calais, France, around one in the afternoon. Timing and mental exhaustion required an interlude. We needed to give Odin time to find Manannan Mac Lir, and we had a comfortable lead on the huntresses, so we could afford to relax—or at least, not run—and have a decent meal before crossing the channel at night. We snuck into a clothier to grab some duds and walked out looking at least civilized if not fashionable. We also lifted six leather belts for later use. I took note of the name to make sure the establishment got paid later for what we took. Not trusting ourselves to nap briefly, we chose to remain awake and explore the city for a few hours. I kept my eyes peeled for possible enemies but tried to conceal my paranoia. We all studiously avoided talking of the immediate past or the future; we were both desperate, I think, for a thin slice of normalcy. I taught Granuaile a few French words here and there and taught Oberon that the food he wanted was called saucisse. We pulled off another meat heist in a café, but the food was rather pedestrian in Oberon’s view compared to what he’d had in Poland. It took the edge off our hunger until we could enjoy something later, however.
After sundown we walked to a spot near the channel and found a likely looking place to have dinner, called Le Grand Bleu. Before walking in, I asked Granuaile and Oberon to wait while I made arrangements. Casting camouflage on myself, I borrowed a cell phone from the purse of an unsuspecting teenager to call my attorney, Hal Hauk, back in Arizona. I walked a short distance behind her as I called; she missed the phone a bit quicker than I had hoped, due to an addictive need to check for texts or something every few minutes. Her cursing in French was entertaining, but I couldn’t appreciate its fluency once Hal answered his cell phone.
“Whoever you are, it’s four in the morning here,” he said without preamble. “This had better be good.”
“Hi, Hal!” I said, sounding as cheerful as possible. “It’s me, Atticus. On the run in France without ID or money. Need the money right away. Know anybody in Calais?”
Hal groaned. “You’re going to give me a headache, aren’t you?” his gruff voice rumbled.