Sullivan Animal Hospital, Boulder, Colorado
I WAS WORKING ON a dog hit by a car when Felicity called and left a message. After I fixed him up, I returned her call.
“We got lots for your hard-earned money,” she said. “I can promise you’ll want to hear the details.”
“You’re damned right I do,” I said.
“How about we meet you back at the same place tonight. It’s nice and quiet there on Tuesdays.”
By six, I was waiting at the same table when Felicity and Juan walked in. Felicity was beaming, far happier than I had ever seen her before.
“Okay,” I said, “I can tell you have good news. Am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
“It’s better than good,” Felicity laughed. “I won’t hold you in suspense for long, but I’m thirsty.” She flagged our waitress down and ordered a bottle of the best champagne the bar had.
“Anyway,” Felicity said, “the short version is Stevie says the bomb maker is an old Sicilian living in New Jersey. The man made his reputation working for the mob before they all went to prison.”
Her eyes gleamed, but I was skeptical. “You’re saying he’s now working for somebody else, and they found him in the mafia’s version of the yellow pages?”
She shrugged. “Stevie has a photo of the bomb he surreptitiously took while he was helping to place it in Hudson’s trunk. Even better, he knows the phone number of the phone that blew up with the device. The cops haven’t released that number, so if Stevie really knows it, that fact should validate his story. He also claims that you were the more important target that day.”
I felt shocked. “He knows the name of the bomber and how to reach him?”
“She tapped her notebook. “Got it right here.”
I still hadn’t gotten past the idea that the bomber was after me. “How does this snitch know I was a target?”
“The most important intended victim,” Juan said. “The bomber had to give back three-quarters of his fee because he failed to kill you.”
And I’d thought I was just an unlucky bystander? “Are you sure about all this information?” I asked. “He may have given you a wrong number in exchange for the money. We can’t verify the truth until we talk to the cops.”
“I probed his mind for truthfulness,” Felicity said.
Before I could say anything else, the waitress brought the champagne and three glasses. I toasted Felicity and Juan.
“Holy shit,” I said. “What do we do now?”
“We basically have to confront the bomber and find out who hired him.”
“What if the bomber won’t tell you who he was working for?” I asked.
Juan looked at Felicity, too.
“If I can get into the same room with him,” she said, “I can read his mind. He won’t know I’m probing his memory.”
-o-o-o-
Wednesday, May 22nd
Sullivan’s Animal Hospital, Boulder, Colorado
AFTER EXERCISING AND THEN training with Tess and Don, I headed to the hospital to work. Midmorning, Diana called.
“I just heard from Norbek. They’re thrilled to set up a fight between you and Sitka in return for releasing seventeen slaves, those being all the magical slaves in Colorado now. The fight will take place Saturday morning.”
“Sounds perfect,” I said. “If I’m not ready by then, I never will be.”
I returned to work and ignored my queasy stomach.
-o-o-o-
Brigid’s community Ranch, Boulder County, Colorado
AFTER DINNER, I RAN for an hour along the trails at the ranch. As usual, Hercules and the wolves ran with me, and Christina rode the horse. Then I spent another hour weightlifting with Laura. During the fall, I’d been able to keep in shape by farming, but this time of year the land lay fallow.
Laura and I were laughing at a joke someone had told us in the exercise room when our Supreme Leader entered.
She said, “Hey, I have news about Hudson murder. Nicky just called. Felicity and Juan managed to track down the whereabouts of the bomber, and she hopes to talk to him tomorrow.”
I smiled. “Hopefully, Felicity will learn who paid the bomb maker soon. Make sure to tell Nicky to give her a raise.”
Diana nodded and started talking about how Nicky called me his cross to bear, but I only lent her half an ear. My own problems were as big as anybody’s, and Nicky didn’t have to face Sitka in a few days.
“I also made progress on another issue,” Diana said. “I spoke to Sorcha Leòideach. I first tried to be friendly and open, but as soon as she heard your name, she cut me off. “In fact, she said, ‘I do not cooperate with Cunningham on anything.”
“Fuck her, then,” I replied. “What a rude, stuck-up Brit.”
Diana paused for a moment before saying. “My thoughts, exactly, but Gill swallowed his distaste of her for a reason. She has the best understanding of Holar magic available today. And it’s his considered wish that you should work with her.”
I owed Diana a huge amount, and I’d always trusted her advice. It was time to swallow my anger. “What should I do now?”
“I wasn’t comfortable mentioning the book. I think the better approach is that you should talk to Fred. He probably knows her. Get his opinion, and if he thinks she’s worth the inevitable frustration, ask him to make the contact.”
-o-o-o-
Thursday, May 23rd
EARLY IN THE MORNING, Don Blake and I trained out on the patio. I explained to him the separation that Gill had suggested between the emotional and logical parts of my mind.
“Good idea,” Don said. “What part of your head are you in now?”
“The angry part.”
“What if you were to try fighting cool?” he asked. “Could you think of it as another form of meditation? That’s how the great Asian masters practice karate. They don’t fight an opponent as much as they seek to improve themselves. Buddhist monks love the craft.”
I’d always fought angry, just something about the experience invariably riled me up. Probably because I’d always hated fighting, and I still did. Most people probably hated being put in a position where they had to use force. It wasn’t civilized. But nothing concerning sorcerers was good or right.
“Give me a minute to switch my head around,” I said. It took me several minutes to calm down and get myself into a meditative frame of mind. “Ready.”
At first, I simply went through the motions of each karate move. My focus was inside my head, trying to make my form perfect rather than to hurt anyone. Don must’ve noticed that my blows were pitiful, but he didn’t complain.
This is more like dancing than fighting. After I realized that, it became easier. I let my body relax and all my past repetition of the forms help me to move through them more naturally.
“Now you’re starting to get the hang of it,” Don said. “This is just you focusing on your own body and what it can do.”
Because I wasn’t riled up, I could concentrate better. The inner speech in my head died down, and I noticed lots of little details about how parts of my body felt at each instant.
“Time to push yourself harder,” Don said. “Nothing dramatic, but now that you feel your motions, exert yourself a little more each time.”
I was still new at this, but I could pick out tiny instants when a conscious effort to use my muscles more made a big difference. Mostly I tried to let my body flow smoothly until right before I hit Don’s body with mine. Then I put more oomph into the blow.
“Now you’re getting it,” he said. “We’ll have to stop for a moment for me to put on padding. You’re turning into one strong son of a bitch.”
At least I seem to be on the right track. Instead of patting myself on the back, though, I focused on the key moments in instants when I could make my blows stronger.
After one roundhouse kick, Don staggered backwards. Despite having padding around his torso, he held his right side.
“I think you cracked o
ne of my ribs.” He checked his watch. “We’ve been at this for two hours. This is a good time to stop.”
I’d been in a trancelike state, and it took me a moment to realize what he’d said. “Wow, your idea was terrific. My practice felt much better. Were my hits as strong as before?”
“Actually, they’re stronger today. All your anger was interfering with your ability to use your body effectively.”
I thought about that for a moment. “But, to use attack magic, I’ll have to be pissed, right?”
“Sure,” he said. “You can’t always fight cool, but when you’re using physical force instead of magic, the more mindful approach seems to work better.”
Chapter 15
AFTER DON LEFT, I called Fred and explained what Gill had told me about Leòideach.
He sighed. “I hate personality conflicts more than anything. As I think I told you in our first meeting, we wanted to include her in the project from the beginning. I doubt she could’ve translated the book any faster, but now that we’re past that obstacle, she’ll understand better than anyone what it means.”
“You’ll call her?”
He responded with a nervous laugh. “She’ll be thrilled about the discovery of a new work concerning Holar but probably furious to find out who she has to collaborate with. The woman has a reputation for being blunt, which is probably why she clashed with Gill all the time. If she gets too nasty, I’m hanging up on her.”
I couldn’t blame him. I hated personality clashes, too, and I’d have to work with her closely. “Use your best judgment. If’s she’s too much of a headache, drop her.”
We hung up, I went outside to run with the critters. Usually, after an intense karate session, my muscles were screaming at me, but not this time. I tried to stay in the same cool part of my mind and run with focus.
The wolves, including Washta, loped alongside me, barely breathing hard. Hercules kept up with no problem, but after three miles today, he began to lag. Maybe that was because I was running faster. He couldn’t trot today.
I took him back to the pasture he favored, and the wolves and I kept chugging along until I was beat, and Washta was finally breathing hard. He could’ve probably kept going for hours, but at least today I gave the five of them a workout.
-o-o-o-
AT LUNCHTIME, I MET Laura, Tess, and Christina and told them about my training breakthrough with Don.
“That’s fascinating,” Tess said as she ate a BLT. “I’ll have to try training cool myself.”
“What I don’t understand,” Laura said, “is why your muscles would react any differently whether you’re calm or pissed.”
We talked that over for a while, and then I asked about going to Rocky Mountain National Park over the weekend.
None of the three of them would answer. “What’s wrong?”
Tess put down the French fries she was about to chew. Maybe you should just focus on dealing with Sitka for now. After you kick his ass, we will be happy to celebrate any way you want.”
“Good point,” I said. “That needs to be my focus for the next few days.”
I was feeling more confident about my chances against the asshole, but obviously, the folks around me were worried. Not that anyone had said as much. In fact, I realized, few people in the clan had talked to me since we got back from the Grand Canyon, other than to say hello.
So, I asked them. “Why are only my closest friends chatting with me anymore? Have I done something to upset everyone?”
“You’ve changed.” Laura shrugged.
I started to respond, but she held up her hand. “Not in a bad way, not like Tess and I used to think would happen. Your head hasn’t swollen.”
I tamped down my frustration. “How could my ego grow when I barely win most of my fights. Basically, I keep getting lucky. That can’t last.”
Tess shook her head. “Napoleon is famous for saying, ‘I’d rather have lucky generals than good ones.’ He knew a thing or two about winning battles.”
Laura gave me a one-armed hug. “Great warriors have always stood alone, darling. A few people here have told me you’re the Chosen One, and they’re afraid to get too close. That’s all bullshit. I will stand by your side, but I can’t understand how you can keep fighting. These days, training consumes most of your time. Were all grateful that you work hard to protect us, but great leaders always stand apart from those they defend.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I couldn’t eat the rest of my sandwich.
“I’m the same big galumph who showed up here in early September, fresh off the farm.”
The three of them looked at me as though I’d grown a second set of ears.
Tess reached across the table and patted my hand. “No, you’re definitely not. Your teeth were practically chattering when I first met you, and you were incredibly self-conscious. Now you’re a seasoned warrior ready to take on one of the most dangerous sorcerers in the world.”
“Old Ian O’Rourke would’ve been crushed by Sitka within seconds,” Laura said, “but I think you have a great chance of stomping his ass.”
I thought about what they’d said but wasn’t buying it. “Remember, I’m not doing this for everybody. You have the sanctuary, and you’re safe. My main goal is to rid this world of Raul Escobar, and the easiest way for me to finish him off is to take out Sitka first.”
Tess snickered. “You don’t see yourself, do you? If all you wanted to do would be to kill Escobar, you’d cheat. You’d find the same guy who shot Sheriff Cantor and have him shoot Escobar. You’d be cheating magic, but it would be a hell of a lot easier than training for months to win the right way.”
She had a point. I’d never even considered talking to grandpa to find out who killed Cantor. Escobar deserved the same gruesome death, and it didn’t really matter whether I did it or someone else. Maybe I’d gone about this the wrong way for months.
After a moment’s thought, I realized I wanted to handle Escobar myself. I wanted his blood on my hands, and I wanted his dying eyes to see who’d brought him down. That wasn’t noble. It was bloodlust, vengeance, pure and simple. And I was going to get it or die trying.
-o-o-o-
AFTER LUNCH, I HEADED to Holly’s hospital to do the work I truly loved. The fighting was necessary, but healing was why the gods put me on earth. It soothed my soul the same way that communing with ancient trees did.
I healed a quarter horse with a broken leg that otherwise would’ve been euthanized, and saving his life was satisfying. He would lead a productive life for years to come.
Before I could turn to another patient, Felicity dropped by the hospital. Obviously, she’d returned from New Jersey.
“Got a few minutes?” she asked me in the lobby.
“Sure, I always have time for my favorite lawyer.”
I took her back to my office and closed the door. After she sat in front of my desk, she said, “I’ve got good news and bad. Which do you want first?”
I sat next to her. “I’m a glutton for punishment. What’s the bad news?”
She laughed. “Me too. You’d make a great lawyer. The bad news is that Rosario Crocetta is dead. He supposedly hung himself after Juan and I met him.”
I wasn’t going to weep because someone had killed the guy who’d tried to kill me, but he’d had one bit of information I dearly wanted to know. “We’ll never know the name of the person who hired him?”
“Wrong. That’s the good news. He didn’t say a word when we confronted him, but I read his mind. The person who hired him to kill both Hudson and you was Mark Fletcher.”
The name rang a distant bell. “Way to go, girl.”
She patted my arm. “I get all woozy when you say sweet things in my ear. Too bad, you’re married.”
“Very happily married. He’s a slayer?”
“Right, a guy you really don’t want to know. He’s the head of the US slayers’ council, a powerful sorcerer who works out of New York City.”
She sighed. “I doubt Fletcher cared a whit about whether Sidney lived or died. You, on the other hand, are becoming a royal pain in their collective asses. And if you beat Sitka on Saturday, I’ve got to believe Fletcher is going to come after you hard. That’s why I came here right away. To warn you about him.”
The battles never seemed to end. “I’ll worry about him when the time comes. For now, I’m completely focused on Sitka. Then Escobar, and only after him, maybe I’ll be ready to go back to Oklahoma and deal with the assholes who want to try me for murdering Cantor.”
“I hope you meant that you plan to stand trial, rather than get rid of any particular prosecuting attorneys.”
I hadn’t intended to attack the lawyers. “Of course, counsellor, I meant I intend to go back to my home state and let the justice system work its will upon me. After you and Nicky win that case for me, I’ll be able to go wherever and whenever I please, including New York City if necessary.”
-o-o-o-
Friday, May 24th
I WAS SLOWLY DISCOVERING that the human body can only take a certain amount of punishment before training became counterproductive. For me, that meant I could only spend a half a day running, lifting weights, practicing karate with Don, and trading attack spells with Tess. After a lunch with my wife and stepdaughter, I headed into town to work at the hospital.
Once I got back to the ranch that evening, I was beat. It didn’t help that I’d lost another fight with cancer. This time, a twelve-year-old Maine Coon cat succumbed to colon cancer. That was a particularly nasty way to go, but I’d soothed the animal repeatedly since returning from the Grand Canyon.
Laura, Christina, and I were watching an animated movie about jungle critters when Fred called. I moved upstairs to the bedroom to talk to him without disturbing my family.
“Good news,” he said. “She’s willing to come to Boulder to see the book and meet a lowlife like you. She’s a bit miffed at how I sucked her into the project before mentioning you, but she’s thrilled to read a translation of a possible book written by the great magician himself.”
Vengeance (The Sorcerers' Scourge Series Book 3) Page 14