Staked: The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Eight by Kevin Hearne

Author:Kevin Hearne [Hearne, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780345548511
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2016-01-25T23:00:00+00:00

When Brighid and I returned to the Fae Court in Tír na nÓg—she looking regal and I looking every bit as injured as I was—we had a surprise delegation of yewmen waiting for us. It was a large one: a hundred or more. They’re creepy things, as one might expect from creatures spawned by the Morrigan, and devoid of any sense of humor or indeed most human emotions except for greed and bloodlust. They were highly effective mercenaries against the vampires—they had no blood to suck and could not be charmed, and bullets that might be fired at them by thralls were mere annoyances. They were perfect vampire hunters, actually, except for the high price tag on their services.

They had come to inform me that I had overdue bills to pay. The yewmen didn’t have any vocal cords, however, so they had to communicate via a spokesfaery. They must have written down in advance what they wished to say. Or used sign language or played charades. I really didn’t know.

“We have staked and beheaded many vampires for you, Druid,” their spokesfaery said in answer to my greeting. Her high, reedy voice, similar to a hamster on helium, didn’t match the grim visages of the yewmen. “And at first you paid through Goibhniu. But now Goibhniu is dead. We have not been paid the bounty on six hundred and eighty-three vampires. We will not kill any more until you pay in full.”

“I, uh, yyyyyeah. About that. The vampires have managed to degrade my ability to pay.”

The faery repeated, “We will not kill any more until you pay in full.” She must have exhausted her scripted speeches.

“Got it.” I gave them a thumbs-up. “I’ll work on that. When I have the money, who should I contact?”

“Me,” Brighid said, injecting herself into the conversation. “You will pay me.” She looked at the yewmen. “I will be his guarantor. I expect that will be acceptable.”

“Brighid, you don’t need to do that, I haven’t asked—”

“I am volunteering freely and expecting no favors in return, Siodhachan. It’s done.”

I nodded acknowledgment, realizing that I’d have to find myself a lucrative job very soon. I’d never been much of a get-rich-quick sort of guy; a long life had allowed me the luxury of getting rich slowly through investments. I could raid the store of rare books I had buried years ago by the Salt River in Arizona as a temporary solution. Auction off a few of those and I could live comfortably for a while and maybe pay down a fraction of the debt I owed them. But even if I sold everything—a troublesome prospect since some of them were genuinely dangerous tomes—I doubted I would be able to pay their bill in full.

Since lingering would only expose me to the stares of unpaid mercenaries, I took my leave and shifted back to Flagstaff outside Sam and Ty’s house, wondering how I could possibly keep the war going in the short term. The Hammers of God were a welcome addition to the cause but not nearly as efficient as the yewmen.

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