twenty-nine
THE CLICHÉ FOR DUELS IS THAT THEY’RE HELD AT dawn, or thereabouts. The duel between Lugh and Dougal, however, was to be held at nine o’clock on Saturday night. There were several reasons for the late start, none of them being my reluctance to get up at oh-dark-thirty. The first was that Dougal’s minions needed time to do a thorough check of the location to make sure Lugh didn’t have an army of accomplices tucked away somewhere ready to charge the moment Dougal appeared. The second was that it would take some time to build the pyre on which the loser of the duel would be burned. The most important reason, though, was that we wanted to minimize the risk that a prospective buyer might want to view the property and stumble upon the duel. From the looks of the place, buyers weren’t exactly beating down the door to snatch it up, but it was safer not to trust to luck.
Which meant getting up at oh-dark-thirty anyway, because Saul needed to be in hiding before there was a chance of a buyer or real estate agent stopping by, and Raphael insisted we accompany Saul so we could confirm he was well hidden. The sun was just rising when we arrived at the farm. We drove past it and parked about a mile away, then came at it on foot from an oblique angle. It was still dark enough that we could cross open fields without being spotted, and we got to the woods without seeing—or, hopefully, being seen by—anyone. We sent Saul into the treetops once more, this time with a highpowered rifle slung over his shoulder, a canteen on his belt, and pockets full of granola bars and trail mix. He had dressed in army-surplus chic, and his face looked pretty damn awful beneath a thick layer of camouflage makeup.
We spent a good half hour trying to find Saul after he had hidden, but none of us spotted him. Lucky that we were putting on this little shindig in the summer, with all those leaves for cover.
By the time we left, there were people moving around in the vicinity of the barn. They had a couple of dogs and a metal detector, and we figured they were Dougal’s people, checking for booby traps. They gave no sign of having seen us, their attentions much more focused on the search for potential bombs.
After getting Saul situated, the rest of us drove back to the city. We had already determined that Adam and Dominic would accompany Lugh to the duel, leaving William locked up in their guest room. Obviously, the lock wouldn’t hold him if he really wanted to get out, but Adam and Dom were going to neglect to mention that they were leaving the house, and William was too much of a coward to attempt an escape when he might get caught. Raphael, residing in Andy’s body, would remain at my place with Barbie and Brian and me. The three of them would form the “circle” around me as I awaited the signal that Lugh was in trouble and I needed to summon him. The demons all assured me that three people were enough to form the circle needed for the ritual—though it looked more like a triangle to my untrained eyes—and I had no choice but to believe them.
Adam and Dom went back to their place—I suspected so they could have a final frolic, just in case one or both of them didn’t come back—but they would be back to pick up Lugh in plenty of time to reach the dueling ground. Raphael, too, went home for a while, which was probably a good thing, since the tension level in my apartment was high enough as it was.
I spent about an hour in the late afternoon practicing the incantation. I had no trouble with the Latin—
though I wasn’t sure how well I’d do under stress—but I was really worried about Lugh’s True Name. To say it was a mouthful was an understatement. I counted twenty-six syllables that sounded like one nonsense sound after another. Lugh said it translated roughly into “he who shines in the darkness,”
which seemed too simple for twenty-six frickin’ syllables.
“What language is this?” I complained to Lugh as I stumbled over it for the umpteenth time. “Please tell me it’s dead; otherwise I’ll have to go kill it.”
I heard his soft chuckle inside my head. If he was at all concerned that he might find himself burning at the stake in a few hours’ time, it didn’t show.
It’s how we express our own native language with human mouths, so I’m afraid the language is not dead. Luckily, you only have to learn this one phrase.
Even when I learned it, I was terrified that I would muff it under pressure. I remembered the painful efforts Jonathan had made to summon William, and how very long they had taken.
You’re not Jonathan, Lugh assured me. You’ll do fine. But let us hope you don’t have to do any summoning after all.
Yeah, I sure as hell hoped that!
Adam and Dom were due to pick Lugh up at seven-thirty. Raphael—for once showing up on time—
arrived promptly at seven. At seven-fifteen, I let Lugh take control so he could move into Tommy Brewster. Raphael hadn’t transferred into Andy yet, although Andy was holding out his hand, his face as set and hard as a soldier going into battle.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Lugh asked. He sounded impatient to get going.
Raphael heaved a sigh, which didn’t seem to lessen the tension in his face or posture any. But instead of reaching for Andy’s hand, he drew the Taser that was meant to be Lugh’s weapon for the duel.
None of us had a chance to react in time. Not even Lugh.
The Taser made its trademark pop, and the probes hit Lugh firmly in the chest and belly. He collapsed to the floor, though even in his surprise, he acted quickly enough to block me from feeling more than a fraction of a second of the pain.
Brian and Barbie both gasped. Brian took a step toward me, and Barbie drew a gun from a holster I hadn’t realized she was wearing. Unfortunately, Raphael had a gun in addition to the Taser. I didn’t want to know where he’d gotten it. Holding the Taser—its probes still attached to my body—in his left hand, he menaced the others with the gun.
“I don’t want to shoot anyone,” Raphael said, his jaw set grimly, “but I will if I have to.” A faint sheen of sweat glowed on his brow.
Brian gave him a murderous look, but the only person in the room at the moment who could offer Raphael any threat was Barbie. And even her threat was minuscule, considering how little a bullet would harm him.
“Put the gun down, Barbara,” he said. “Lugh would have been the only one here who could stop me, and he’ll be out of commission for a while.”
“Stop you from what?” Brian asked, outraged.
“From going to the duel in Lugh’s place.”
Lugh couldn’t move a single muscle in my body, but I heard his howl of protest in my head. Raphael came to loom over the two of us. His face was paler than usual. He still held the gun out, though he wasn’t pointing it at anyone in particular. He ejected the cartridge from the Taser and stuck the Taser into the waistband of his pants.
“You said once before that there was no foolproof plan to defeat Dougal,” Raphael said. “But there is.”
He reached up with one hand and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just enough to show us that he had something—a large flask-shaped bottle—stuck to his chest with adhesive tape.
“This bottle is full of napalm,” he said, and once again I heard Lugh’s wail of protest in my head as we both guessed what Raphael was planning to do. I sensed Lugh trying to transfer me back into control, since I would be less debilitated by the effects of the Taser than he was, but it didn’t seem to be working. Perhaps the electricity was mucking with that ability as well as all his others.
“Dougal’s minions will examine my aura and think I’m you. Dougal will know the difference when we check each other’s auras, but by the time he realizes who I am, it will be too late.” He pulled a miniature lighter out of his pocket, then palmed it so it looked like his hand was empty. “I’ll break the glass and light it, then I’ll grab Dougal. His followers may try to put the fire out, but fires fueled by napalm are really hard to kill.” His eyes glimmered with a hint of tears, and I noticed a slight tremor in the hand that held the gun. Raphael was scared shitless, and I couldn’t come close to blaming him.