“We only put assholes there, until I could figure out a way to get ’em out safely.”
“Oh, so you can get them out?”
“Wait. Are you saying you killed a bunch of people to experiment?” Granuaile asked at the same time, a hint of outrage in her tone. Goibhniu answered her rather than me.
“Well, yeah, but, like I said, they were assholes. Vikings, mostly, what were going around raping and pillaging the Irish coast back then. But, come to think of it, we’re still putting assholes there. Only now we can get ’em out without killing ’em. Mostly.”
“What do you mean, mostly?” I asked.
Goibhniu shrugged. “It’s a tricky business. Have you been out there and seen the rig I set up?”
Thinking of the bizarre machinery erected over the island, I nodded.
“Well, I can snatch ’em out with that. The time bubble has a low ceiling. We sweep what amounts to an ultra-soft mattress in behind ’em and then scoop ’em up. Thing is, you’re practically guaranteed to break their legs, because we hit them first to make ’em fall backward and usually they have their legs locked up. Sometimes we get additional breakage, but it’s hardly ever fatal anymore.”
“Can you get someone out for me?”
“Who?”
I shot a glance at Granuaile, who was listening intently. “I’d rather not say,” I replied, “but he was left there by the Morrigan.”
Goibhniu’s eyes rounded. “She said someone would come asking about that someday, but I never thought it would happen now. And I certainly didn’t think it would be you.”
“Do you know the person I’m talking about?”
“No, I don’t. She only told me that she left someone there and that far off in the future somebody—not her—would ask to get ’im out. She paid me in stupid huge pots of gold to get this guy off the island and make sure he healed up all right.”
“But you don’t know who it is?”
“Nope. She said whoever asked about it would identify him.”
That gave me pause. Considering how long ago she must have put that man on the island, she had been flirting with the idea of her own death for a very long time. Or she had divined some purpose for him far beyond his own era.
“All right, I need you to go around to the north side and look for an old man in winter clothes pointing at the shore in mid-shout. Can’t miss him. Epic eyebrows. That’s the guy.”
“Done,” Goibhniu said. “Or it will be in a couple of weeks. Takes that long.”
“Good enough,” I said. “What news from the yewmen?”
“Ah! I’m thinkin’ we need another beer for that. This is good.” He collected our glasses and went back to the tap and checked on Oberon, who had fallen asleep behind the bar after wolfing down his lamb stew.
“You heard what they did the first night, right?” the god of brewing said as he deposited the old glasses in the sink and fetched some fresh ones. “Took out every vampire in Rome. It was a sort of cooperative enterprise from several different pods. They split up from there and took a day to find new targets. Meantime, the rest of the world’s vampires wake up at night and some of them realize that they’re hearing nothing from their leaders. A few go to find out what’s happened, and then it’s chaos. Lots of different reactions. Some are battening down the hatches and increasing security until they know more. Some are sending minions to Rome to seize the city for them and take control. Others are claiming that fighting over Rome is a moot point, as it’s no longer the center of vampiric power—which is a fair point—and then they claim that their city should be the new capital, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Huh. Which cities?”
“Istanbul, Las Vegas, and Paris are the names I’ve heard.” I’d half expected to hear Thessalonika in there, which would mean Theophilus was making a play, but then it made sense that he would let others step forward. He was the sort of leader who moved in the shadows, safely out of reach. In that he was very similar to his mysterious counterpart amongst the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Goibhniu brought over our draughts, and I noticed it was a different beer than the first. “This is my Ballyshannon Blond Ale,” he said.
We clinked glasses and took an appreciative sip. “Did the yewmen get any more after Rome?” I asked.
“Oh, aye,” Goibhniu said, nodding. “They’ve been making hits just about every other day, spreading throughout Italy. It’s driving the bloodsuckers crazy. They’re upgrading their daytime security and hissing at one another, and I’m over here eatin’ popcorn and laughin’ me ass off.”
“So what’s the count?”
“They’re able to hit around twenty to thirty a night, but that’s only every other day. So right now we’re at a hundred sixty-two vampires who are finally dead for real.”
That was a fraction of the world’s vampires, but, so far as I knew, they hadn’t ever suffered a loss like this in my lifetime. And it came in territory they’d long considered safe, to vampires who were amongst the most powerful of their kind.
“That’s quite a bit of bounty to be paid. Can I bring you that money plus an estimate for more when I pick up my man from Zealot Island?”
“Sure, that would be grand. Want to see the heads or shall I destroy them?”
“Destroy them. There’s really only one I’m interested in getting at the moment, but I doubt he’ll be in Italy. He’ll be one of the lads sending in minions.”
Goibhniu frowned. “Who’s this?”
“The name’s Theophilus. He’s the one who all but wiped out the Druids back in the old days. It was his idea to use the Roman legions. His organization.”
A spark of genuine anger flashed in the eyes of a god whose good nature was rarely disturbed. “I didn’t know that. When did you discover this?”
“Not long ago. While I was binding her,” I said, nodding my head toward Granuaile. “He’s after us again. That’s why I wanted to push back against the vampires now. Keep him busy. But it would be even better if we could take him out. I think he’s more powerful than he lets on.”
“Hmm.” Goibhniu tapped his glass in contemplation and peered through slitted eyes at me. “You know, there’s a hundred more yewmen at the Morrigan’s Fen with nothing to do.”
Granuaile saw what he meant immediately. “You think we could recruit them to join in?”
“Quite possibly. Say that I can. Where should I send them?”
“Break them up into four pods,” I said. “Send one each to those three cities you mentioned and one to Thessalonika. Free range after that.”
“Hell yeah,” Granuaile said.
Her keenness for the idea surprised me. “Aren’t you concerned about the collateral damage to their thralls? I thought this was the kind of thing you found distasteful. Immoral.”
“Normally it would be. But I’ve had time to consider. Time to be hunted, I should say. I suppose my view grew darker after you died, Atticus—”
“Hold on,” Goibhniu interjected. “You died?”
“Long story,” I waved a hand to dismiss it and let Granuaile finish.
“When the decision is either your life or theirs, it ceases to be complicated. There are issues of dignity and justice to consider, but when it comes to vampires and their thralls, I think I can put that aside. Any one of them would kill me without hesitation, and it’s naïve to think that they’ll change their minds and wish me well someday if I just leave them alone. Those thralls not only are in the business of defending monsters but wish to become monsters themselves. I want to protect life, and they want to eat it. It’s not as if we have a difference of opinion on politics or religion, where violence would be an unacceptable solution. Vampires want to end me. Since abandoning the planet isn’t an option, my only choice is to end them first.”