Paper & Blood

by Kevin Hearne

  Roxanne growled in frustration, then suggested a course of action. “A wedge, perhaps, allowing the people with iron weapons to get close enough to stab her?”

  This seemed agreeable to everyone. I took point because my cane could clear some space as we advanced; Roxanne took up position on my right and Mei-ling on my left, with Hsin-ye trailing on the left side. Ya-ping was in the center behind me, and Shu-hua took up the rear position on the right.

  We paused only to open the sigils and let the power course through our systems, then we charged down into what might be our deaths.

  We did not exactly surprise them, because the chimeras did see us coming before we hit, but they had little time to react before we plowed into them. As such, we almost made it to Caoránach. But I couldn’t get past a gorilla elephant that seized on my cane with its trunk and tried to rip it out of my grasp. I barely managed to hold on and felt it slipping from my fingers, but I got it to let go with a swift kick to the solar plexus. It trumpeted in rage and staggered back into Caoránach’s flanks, which alerted the Mother of Demons that she was beset from behind. Her massive tail twitched and knocked us all bodily through the air, friend and foe alike, about ten meters back. Our wedge formation was ruined, along with our surprise advantage, and when we got to our feet we had demons streaming toward us to make sure we didn’t get that close again.

  I kicked that gorilla elephant again, this time in the groin, and followed up with a cane to the skull before whipping it sideways to bat a hyena toad out of the air in mid-leap for Ya-ping’s head. I got the feeling that, yes, we could just barely hold our own against them for a little while, but it seemed like Caoránach had sped up her spawning in response to our appearance and more would keep coming and eventually one of us would fall, and then another, overwhelmed with battle weariness and an inexhaustible supply of strange enemies. The thing to do was find a way to exhaust them instead.

  And that was when I remembered sitting in my master’s library, FitzGibbon’s cherry-vanilla pipe smoke swirling in my nostrils, and absorbing the idea that blood magic always exacted a heavy price. I didn’t know what toll it was taking on Caoránach, but I did think I spied a possible weakness—and potentially a solution to our wider problem as well as to my own personal problems.

  Leaning into the Agile Grace, I dodged a couple of chimeras who wanted a piece of me and charged the tail. Roxanne delivered an assist and punched in the neck a truly strange zebra possum that was rushing to intercept me. A giraffe with the head of an alligator was a rather tall barrier, but I leapt straight at it anyway.

  Why did the sigil agent leap over the oilliphéist tail?

  To get to the other side.

  The gator mouth wanted a bite of me, but my cane met it on the cheek, and I used that impact to spin like a top in the air and come down on the far side of the tail, landing briefly on the back of a startled oryx iguana before leaping again, this time toward the oilliphéist’s front end, where she was spawning new horrors every fifteen seconds or so. I was jumping as much for height as for distance, hoping that Caoránach would see me coming and also that the sigils would prevent me from injuring myself whenever I had to come back down. A broken ankle would ruin everything.

  She didn’t see me on either of my first two leaps, her attention having returned to her demon-spawning activities, but the scream of frustration from the hawk-faced horse who just missed taking a bite out of me drew her gaze my way in midair, and she did not like me at all. Her sibilant chanting ceased, and an actual roar from the oilliphéist vibrated the air and smacked me in the face with a wall of breath as foul as one might expect from eating cattle. That froze almost all of the battle and allowed me to land safely and take out the sigil I was hoping would change things in our favor. Before everything refocused and a giant wolf squirrel could scurry over to snap me in two, I took three steps and leapt as mightily as I could toward Caoránach’s face, flicking open the Sigil of Knit Flesh in my left hand and presenting it to her gaze as I traveled.

  Work, damn you, I thought, and tried to keep the sigil pointed at her eye even as I fell back to the earth. She tracked my progress, ocular nerve exposed to the sigil, and I splashed down directly in the clear pool where her demon spawn erupted into their cursed existence.

  I did not want to be there, and she didn’t want that either. She bugled something, and several chimeras converged on me from multiple directions. I did my best to leap over them, away from the oilliphéist, toward the side of the creek that Connor and Nadia were on, while the fight resumed. It took me three leaps to clear away from the worst of the congestion and get to some higher ground, and then I turned to see if I’d had any effect at all. Since I’d vacated her immediate vicinity, Caoránach had gone back to her sibilant chanting to produce new defenders.

  But that talon of hers, accustomed to picking up a fresh payload of syrupy blood to complete the spawning ritual, scraped along her breast and discovered that there was nothing there. The wound had healed. And without that ready supply of blood, the demon spawn she was pumping into the creek were just floating downstream, fragile and defenseless without the blood magic to activate them to full-grown horrors. It took her a few precious seconds to realize what had happened. She had to look down, process that the supply of blood had run dry and that her workflow was totally bollixed up now. She’d have to start over. She rent a new gash in her flesh and then ululated when it closed back up again immediately. The sigil was still in effect, and because of it, she’d have difficulty getting the blood flowing again. And that meant we had a small stretch of time where the demon horde could not replenish itself as fast as we could cut it down, and therefore there was a chance for someone to get to Caoránach.

  The Mother of Demons was hyperaware of this and wasted another few seconds checking her six and swishing her tail again at our party, who were getting too close. But Ya-ping anticipated the move and leapt straight up to avoid it. Though it was not nearly as high as it would have been if she’d been augmented with sigils, it was still enough for her to clear the tail and come down on top of it—with her sai piercing the scales, plunging into the flesh, and sinking in up to the hilt. I heard Ya-ping cry out, because the spines also pierced her in turn, but Caoránach’s eruption of pain followed right afterward and was louder than Mötorhead at the Glasgow Apollo in my youth. Her mojo was totally thrown off now, the poisoning of Iron Gall shaking like a thunderbolt through her body and disrupting the magic of her existence on this plane. But her tail snapped like a rope at a cross-training event, and Ya-ping was sent flying up into the air. Her training asserted itself and she tucked into a somersault and tried to come down feetfirst, but I could see that she hadn’t quite accomplished it and was in danger of landing very awkwardly—perhaps fatally—amongst the rocks.

  The giant wolf squirrel I’d avoided earlier was coming to have another try, so I didn’t get to watch what happened, except that I saw a flash of Shu-hua moving to break her apprentice’s fall. I was in a close fight for my giblets after that, with a creature that matched me for speed and successfully tore through my shirt with its claws before knocking me down. Only my carbon-steel cane in its mouth saved me from getting my throat torn out. It gagged after it bit down on the metal laced with cold iron, and it convulsed as it backed off, allowing me to rise and finish it.

  Looking for Ya-ping, I saw that she had survived her fall and was now advancing with Shu-hua against some more chimeras, while Roxanne, Mei-ling, and Hsin-ye were engaged in similar battles. The crowd of creatures attacking Connor and Nadia behind me and off to my right were thinning, and I resolved to go help them out, just as soon as I finished watching Caoránach die. Monsters like her were exactly the sort of thing sigil agents were supposed to take care of, and I figured it was just as well that my second-guessing about the battle was rendered moot. There was no way she would have negotiated peacefully with us.

  She was bent nearly dou
ble and trying to pull out the sai from her body with her teeth, but a carnivore’s choppers are designed like scissors rather than pliers, and therefore she couldn’t get a decent grasp on the weapon. She had just figured that she could perhaps grasp it with her lips or gums, pressing her mouth firmly around the hilt, when some critical mass of unbinding was reached and she let go to scream her death song.

  I clapped my hands to my ears as she shuddered and crisped into literal tons of ash from her tail up to her head. Much of it fell into the creek to be washed away, but a good portion settled damply on the banks.

  The key to defeating the oilliphéist had not been to destroy her so much as to mend. Admittedly, the destruction had followed hard behind, but by mending, the curse of Caoránach on earth had been dissolved once more. And perhaps, by mending whatever rift there was between myself and whoever had cursed me, I could ease my own burdens. Brighid had suggested to me before that I should end whoever did it, but our meeting did not have to be a fight to the death that I would in all likelihood lose; healing could be stitched together from goodwill, if all parties were willing. I certainly was.

  Connor and Nadia welcomed my aid in dispatching the cluster of demons that beset them, and once we had slain the last of them, we hurried down to see if we could help the others, who were on the opposite side of the creek. They had similarly finished their work and were coming to help us, and we all met on our side of the waterway, splattered in blood and ash and too exhausted to feel elated, though we mustered weak smiles of relief for one another.

  Curiously, the Iron Druid was surveying the ruins of Caoránach and becoming visibly incensed, his face turning red to match the color of his hair. He shook his head, clenched his jaw, and then bellowed, “Ogmaaa! We need to talk.”

  He looked like he might say more, but then his dogs came down the hill, barking merrily at him, and he paused to greet them, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

  Buck called from the stockade, his voice faint with distance. “Should I just wait in here for a bit, ol’ man? Take a nap, maybe?”

  [Damn it, Buck,] I said with my phone, even though I was sure he couldn’t hear it. I was sure, however, that he could get out without any help if he really wanted to.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Connor said, as I began walking around the bend to Buck’s location. A bit of Old Irish and the soil around a couple of the boughs loosened, allowing the dead wood to fall away and give Buck easy egress. The Iron Druid might envy my Sigil of Certain Authority, but his ability to speak to the earth and get it to move on his behalf was beyond impressive.

  “Ah, excellent,” my hob said, emerging from the prison and skipping merrily downstream to join us. “Let’s review, shall we? I was instrumental to our victory; I’ve performed honorable service; and I’m sexy as all the hells. I’ve earned a whole jar of salsa, ol’ man. None o’ that mild shite either. I think I can handle a spoonful of medium. Or that Scotch bonnet stuff ye were flappin’ yer gums about.”

  The other sigil agents and Roxanne remained wary, their eyes on the trees all around, in case something else emerged to attack us. I felt the agility and strength sigils wear out, and all the aches and fragility of age returned to weigh me down.

  Connor called out for Ogma again, and this time a voice replied, rich and sonorous.

  “I am here.”

  We all turned to witness a tall muscular white man, albeit tanned and oiled as if he was ready for a bodybuilding competition, emerge from the bush on the other side of the creek. He wore only a kilt, though without any tartan pattern; it was a dark green with golden oak leaves. He had shaved his head, perhaps to show off the thick golden earrings dangling from his ears or the thicker golden torc around his neck. In his left hand he carried what looked like a rolled-up length of canvas or oilcloth, which was too thin and lumpy to be a bedroll; he clutched on to a length of rope that wrapped around it, keeping it closed. He had no obvious weapon, but perhaps they were in the canvas. And perhaps, like Roxanne, he didn’t really need one.

  “You didn’t have to do any of this,” Connor said, skipping all niceties. “We could have talked. You didn’t have to kill anyone.”

  The god grinned and spread his arms wide in innocence. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Let’s put a cork in that nonsense right now,” a voice with a Maritime Canadian accent said. Gladys Who Has Seen Some Shite abruptly appeared between Connor and me, hands on hips and glaring disapprovingly. She was dressed gorgeously in a golden period outfit remarkably similar to one I recalled seeing Phryne wear in Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and her hair was completely different. It wasn’t grey, for one thing. And she looked about twenty-five years younger.

  A small wrinkle of consternation appeared between Ogma’s eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Gladys Who Has Seen Some Shite, so you’d better think twice about laying a binding down on me.”

  “You’re Gladys? Well.” He raised a hand to cover his heart and bowed his head. “It is an honor to meet you in person.”

  I reviewed the score: The Iron Druid, the Morrigan, and Ogma had all been instantly deferential to my receptionist, as had my hobgoblin.

  Gladys thrust forward her chin and a finger, her tone scolding. “You know the rules. You can’t use bindings to cause direct harm. But you sure caused plenty of indirect harm. You brought Caoránach here and knew she’d do all the harm you needed. People are dead because of you. A lot of people.”

  “No, they’re dead because of Caoránach’s demons. And I did not bring her here.”

  “It’s easy to connect the dots, Ogma. You taught her how to come back and told her where to go, and you didn’t arrange for Caoránach to come back for the peace and goodwill she would bring. You hide behind the letter of the law, but what you’ve done here is plain to see—and I assure you that I saw it all. I was here to bear witness. You still owe the Iron Druid and remain bound by your oath, but I now declare that you owe me as well. Do you wish to argue your indebtedness and protest your innocence, keeping in mind what I have witnessed and what testimony I can bring to bear on your movements?”

  There was a pregnant pause and the forest quieted, waiting for his answer.

  “No,” he finally said.

  Gladys nodded once, curtly. “Wise of you. But let me advise you not to attempt the sort of shenanigans you tried with the Iron Druid. I will not overlook any slight.”

  “I understand. What is it you wish me to do?” he asked.

  “Come see me in Scotland next Monday and we’ll discuss it.” She hooked at thumb at me. “Come to this guy’s office in Glasgow and get proper permission to remain on the plane first.”

  “I will.”

  I cleared my throat to indicate I had something to say and typed, [Gladys, I’m getting the idea that it’s a bit silly of me to employ you as a receptionist. You’re clearly more powerful than anyone here.]

  “Yeah, Gladys, what the bollocks is going on?” Nadia asked. “How the hell did you get down here? Where did you even come from just now?”

  Gladys just chuckled at Nadia and smiled at me. “Nonsense, boss. I like being your receptionist and putting Danish out in the break room. But you’re also right—I’m overqualified, and it’s why I’d rather you didn’t know what I am. Let me just be that kooky Canadian lady who left a whole lot off her CV. That part’s still true, ya know.”

  I just nodded, since I feared that any attempt at a witticism would fail miserably.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to do the honorable thing here, Ogma. Like make sure you completely clean up your mess of traps so no one else gets hurt. And keep your word to the Iron Druid. Since I’ve seen all the shite here I want to see, I’ve a speakeasy to visit in Melbourne and cocktails to drink and flirtations to indulge. Might as well get in some actual vacation time, eh? Nadia, Buck, boss—I’ll see
you in Scotland soon. Ladies,” she said to the other sigil agents and their apprentices, “I know you only by reputation, but it is a sterling one, and I’ve seen nothing to besmirch it. You do yourselves immense credit and I’m honored to meet you in person, however briefly.”

  Shu-hua, Mei-ling, Ya-ping, and Hsin-ye all made thankful noises and gestures, but I could tell they didn’t know what Gladys really was any more than I did. They had noted, however, that if Ogma was being deferential, they should probably do the same.

  My receptionist leaned backward to catch the eye of Roxanne, who was loitering behind everyone else. “And you—remember to come see me if you want to do that thing we talked about earlier.”

  “I will.”

  Satisfied, she finally turned her attention to Connor. “And you, sir. Well. I have watched you, in one way or another, for most of your very long life. I have a message to deliver.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s from Herself.”

  “From Her—? Oh! Yes, I’m ready. Whatever she wants.”

  Gladys Who Has Seen Some Shite stepped forward, put a hand on his cheek, caressed his jaw, and kissed him tenderly, as if she had known him forever and not just met him for the first time. When their lips parted, she leaned her forehead against his, their noses mashed together. Both of them had their eyes closed, feeling rather than seeing. “She loves you,” Gladys said. “And, yes, even now. Especially now, because you are serving her as you should have all along. You have always had your imperfections. That is the essential mortal condition. The number and nature of these imperfections change as you grow and age but ultimately do not matter in themselves. That too is the essence of life, and you are well aware that she unconditionally cherishes all life. You are living yours well, and it is her dearest wish that you continue. I tell you three times.” She opened her eyes. “Is that clear?”