“Stick with the facts in the crime,” the judge said.
“Right. So, I’m watching these deer, and I hear metal crashing against metal back where I’d parked. I ran back to my pickup, slipping and falling a couple of times. I heard more crashes. When I got back there, the tow truck had pushed back my pickup about twenty feet in the mud and snow. I got there just in time, because the idiot was about to drive away. When he saw me, he apologized. I asked the driver why he’d hit my truck, and he said he needed to leave right away or he’d lose his job. I told him he had to pay to fix my vehicle, and he said okay. He was about to put my car on his tow truck to take it to a body shop when the cops arrived.”
“Did you get into an argument?” the judge asked. “The sheriff’s deputies seem to think you two had been fighting.”
The rest of my story had been more or less true, but now I full-on perjured myself. “Nope. He must’ve fallen on the slippery ground, too. Because he agreed right away to fix my pickup, I was satisfied.”
Eastwood snorted and handed his clerk a photo of my truck. The clerk gave it to me. In the picture, the front of the pickup looked like I had driven it at full speed into the side of a cliff.
“Are you telling me you weren’t mad enough to rip his head off?”
“Your Honor,” Felicity began, but the judge held up a hand to cut her off.
I couldn’t admit that we’d fought, because that would be a violation of my bail agreement.
“I might’ve sworn at him a bit, but he agreed to fix the pickup right away. I’d caught him red-handed, and I’d memorized the truck’s license number. I also clearly saw the driver. He knew he couldn’t drive off without getting into more trouble.”
Eastwood badgered me for another few minutes, but I stuck to my lying ass story. Then I thought he was done.
Instead, he said, “Going back to France for a minute, I still can’t get over how much you look like the man in that photograph.”
I spewed another lie. “You think so? I just don’t see it.”
“Do you know anybody in France?”
“No.”
Eastwood scowled. “Have you ever been there?”
“No.”
“Mr. O’Rourke,” the judge continued, “the French police are extremely helpful, and they have cameras everywhere. No Bill of Rights there, son. It’s only a matter of time before they find another photograph of that person.”
I tried to keep my face neutral, but Felicity cringed slightly. She must’ve seen some reaction on my face. I wasn’t much of an actor, but until the French cops found better proof, I had to stick with my story.
“It wasn’t me.”
“Dismissed.” The judge waved me away like a pesky fly.
I stood and left the courtroom immediately.
Felicity, Laura, and Tess huddled with me in the corridor outside.
I groaned. “I was there a month. The gendarmes are bound to find more pictures of me eventually.”
Felicity shrugged. “Don’t let these legal issues distract you. You need to keep getting stronger. The sorcerers are the big threat, not horny old Eastwood.”
She was no doubt right about that, so I nodded.
“As for your new slave,” she said, “hang tight for bit. The judge should set a low bail, and after he’s been processed, you can take him home to add to your collection. I wish had a few to help me keep up with work.”
“If you want him,” I said, “I’m happy to tell him to help you.”
“I need a lawyer slave. If you beat a sorcerer-lawyer, call me right away.” Then she shook hands all around and headed back to her office.
-o-o-o-
Tuesday, December 10th
Brigid’s Community Ranch, Boulder County, Colorado
THERE WAS NO ARTICLE by Paxil today, so the case must’ve been too insignificant for the paper to mention. It was a sunny morning, and, after breakfast, I decided to spend more time with Lazarus. Since he’d invited himself into my life, I’d spent as much time outdoors as I could so we’d could be together, usually on a hike or a horseback ride. He would fly above me. As long as he stayed within a few hundred yards, I could read his thoughts, and I’d get a bird’s eye view of wherever I went. His perspective dramatically improved my enjoyment of the great outdoors.
It was a particularly fine day, so I decided to put myself into Lazarus’s mind. He normally nested in the barn near the roof’s crown. Herman had fashioned a small opening and nesting platform so Lazarus could get into the barn far above the other animals. Some of the rooms down below were heated, and a little of that warmth rose to make Lazarus’s aerie more comfortable than outside, particularly on the cold winter nights.
As I walked outside, I could sense Lazarus in his nest, and I beckoned him to come down. When he did, I melted into him, and we flew off, soaring up into the frigid morning air. Thank the gods, I’d never suffered from vertigo, but at that moment, it was a near thing.
Birds look so relaxed when they soar, but we used up a huge amount of energy climbing to a thousand feet above the ground. There, we opened our wings wider and floated in and out of the clouds. With a wing span of seven feet from tip to tip, I felt like I was riding in a small airplane. A very small airplane with no windows or outer shell.
This was a fine life. Because of our size, no other birds would attack us. We were vulnerable on the ground, but even there, our claws and beak were deadly weapons. In fact, our only chance of being hurt was because of humans, either from getting shot or running into power lines.
While we were soaring, we took in an amazing view of Colorado’s Front Range. An eagle’s eyesight is five times better than a human’s, and eagles have better color vision, too. The peaks twenty miles away at the Continental Divide had never looked so vivid. Best of all, objects straight ahead were magnified, so we could spot rabbits hopping over the snow a thousand feet below. It was like being Superman.
Soaring was effortless. If we decided to change direction, tiny movements of our wing tips and tail feathers made that easy. Within a few minutes, we approached the Indian Peaks Wilderness to the west. Below, the Brainard Lake area, which I loved dearly, was socked in with huge drifts of snow. Both Brainard Lake and Lake Isabelle were frozen over and covered with white. They appeared to be large, flat meadows.
Even the land around the ranch, which was nothing remarkable by Colorado standards, looked idyllic from a distance. I needed to do this more often.
As we returned to the ranch, we noticed someone moving below, weaving through the pines along the western border fence. It sure looked like someone was trying to find a way in.
An object sparkled in the sunlight. He was carrying an assault rifle. This guy was definitely trouble.
We immediately returned to the barn, dropping like a stone. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. The ground rushed up at us at an ever-increasing rate, and Lazarus might’ve been used to it, but I sure wasn’t. I knew eagles could dive at two hundred miles an hour, but it was a far different thing to experience in person. Nothing separated me from air rushing past at speeds faster than the most powerful hurricanes.
Lazarus flared his wings gently at first and then spread them wide to drop like a feather onto the path in front of the barn’s main office. I thanked him with a feeling because he couldn’t understand words, and I reformed into a human. Then I rushed into the office.
Luckily, Herman was sitting at his desk in his old swivel chair. A wood stove heated the room, and gave off the fragrance of burning pine. It would normally have been comforting, but today.
“I think we have a problem. You busy?”
He smiled. “Just figuring out our livestock budget for next year. It can wait. What’s up?”
He didn’t know about my ability to transfer completely into animals, so I fudged the truth a bit. “I was outside when Lazarus sent me a mental image of someone with a rifle on the western property line.”
&n
bsp; Herman stood. His brow furrowed, but his voice sounded normal. “Outside the fence or in?”
“Outside, but the person seemed to be looking for a place to sneak in. Our wards won’t keep out a non-magical intruder, will they?”
“Nope. Let’s go check.” As we walked outside, he patted me on the back. “Don’t get too worked up, Ian. This happens all the time. The fence isn’t what keeps ordinary people out; it’s me and the wolves. We’ve put cameras and motion detectors along the perimeter to spot intruders before they get too close.”
“Do we need guns?”
“Might not be a bad idea. I’ll grab a rifle from my apartment. You bring your staff. Meet you back here.”
A couple of minutes later, Herman returned carrying a .300 Winchester Magnum rifle. He fired up a snowmobile, and I sat behind him, holding both of our weapons. His pack of wolves disguised as Rottweilers, including Washta, ran in the track made by the machine.
When we got closer to where Lazarus and I had seen the guy, I connected mentally with my eagle again. He was back in the sky, circling. Through his eyes, I could see the ground below. The man was gone.
Lazarus scanned the surrounding area and soon spotted a car parked along the main road a mile or so west of our ranch. Lazarus soared over the trees until he found the man hiking through the forest back to his car. I visualized him dropping down until he was close enough to see the license plate. He couldn’t read, but I could read for him. To make sure I didn’t forget it, I typed the plate number into my cell phone.
After I’d told Herman what the eagle had seen, he nodded. “Happens about once a month lately. Routine probing of our perimeter. I can tell he didn’t make it past the wards. They would send me an alarm if any unfamiliar human passed them.”
I pointed Herman toward the area of the western boundary closest to where Lazarus and I had seen the intruder. We got off the snowmobile and trudged through the deep snow, post-holing part of the way. The good news was that we were making the only tracks in the area, except where cottontails had run over the crusted snow.
Herman motioned for the wolves to spread out, and they ran back and forth along the fence line.
“Even if the guy made it across on wings, they’ll smell him and alert us.”
They could run at amazing speed, even through deep, unpacked snow, but none of them howled to signal a find. Herman walked along the fence, periodically stopping and closing his eyes.
All we found were black squirrels chattering in the trees.
Finally, he said, “He didn’t make it through. They rarely do, but we don’t want to take that for granted. This is where he got closest.” Herman pointed at snowshoe tracks ten feet away but on the other side of the fence.
I should’ve felt reassured, but somehow I didn’t. “What if comes back at night?”
“Our sensors work 24-7, and the wolves never get a day off. If either notices something, they alert me.”
-o-o-o-
THAT AFTERNOON, I RETURNED to Don’s dojo in Denver. I put on my gi and found him sitting behind his desk writing something. He waved me toward a chair.
“Okay,” he said. “This is working out great.” He snickered. “Holly told me about your latest escapades. I don’t know why you bother coming here.”
I shook my head. “Obviously, the sooner I really learn karate, the better off I’ll be.”
He replied, “Listen, dude—fighting is a nasty business. No doubt about it. Are you sure you want this life? Even when we win, we suffer from the blows we take. You’ll be wracked with pain. At best, we postpone getting hurt. We win to fight again.”
“Good point. Why do you keep doing it?”
He was taken aback. “Can’t do anything else, and I love this job. When I’m not working, I wish I was. I don’t like vacations. I only go for one a year because Holly insists. Good deeds are the best way to improve our spiritual lives. I may not look strong, but I’m emotionally tough.”
“Do you really think God expects us to grow spiritually from hurting? Enslavement to a sorcerer has to be horrible, too. The agony gladiators endure is unbelievable.”
“Yeah, I do believe there is a point to all this pain. I’ve grown spiritually, can continue without losing sleep. Karma’s keeping track of all my good deeds. Maybe in my next life I’ll get some cushy job. Ambassador to Italy?”
I began to laugh, not because the joke was so funny, but because my level of stress had been rising lately.
Don grinned. “The path to enlightenment runs through this dojo, witch.”
I meditated on that for ten minutes, and Don reviewed what I’d learned about forming my hand into a knife. Then he taught me how to make a fist and punch.
After I thought I had that down, we fought, fists only. Dammit, although he was a little guy, he hit with the power of a battering ram. That was when I realized this guy was deadly serious about karate, and I’d better be, too, if I wanted to survive the training.
At the end of an hour, I looked like he’d taken a baseball bat to me, but I was punching back with more force than ever.
I hurried home to the ranch so Laura could set me back to right.
“Still bored with Don’s training?” she asked with a sly smile.
“I would’ve said no, but my lower jaw wouldn’t move.
-o-o-o-
Wednesday, December 11th
Sullivan Animal Hospital, Boulder, Colorado
I WORKED AT THE hospital in the morning, and at lunchtime, I met Laura and Tess at the Flatirons Mall Shopping Mall. We were all looking for Christmas presents, even though I was the only Christian in our clan.
I bought a diamond necklace for Laura. I’d hinted around at maybe getting married, but she was sticking with the party line. The clan didn’t believe in marriage, and handfasting would only last for a year and a day. When I’d hinted at that instead, she’d been noncommittal so far.
Time passed quickly at the mall, and before I knew it, I had to return to the hospital. When I met Laura again, she wouldn’t tell me what she’d bought, except for a purse for Christina. Laura and Tess drove home together, and I headed to my car in the parking garage. The insurance company had totaled my pickup, so I was using one of the clan’s cars to get around.
As I left the mall, Gill’s amulet zapped me. It felt like it’d fired a dozen needles into my chest. I assumed that meant the threat was particularly nasty.
I glanced around and spotted a man driving a van toward me. He was a white guy, about forty. His nose looked like it’d been punched a few times. Magic could’ve fixed that, but he might have liked the battle-scarred look. A lot of sorcerers did.
He flashed by on the other side of the road, seeming not to notice me. Two vehicles passing in the daytime, and I hoped never to see him again.
Gill was right. These fucking sorcerers are everywhere.
I was gratified to see that the medallion was always alert, but I was running into these evil monsters almost daily. Luckily, this latest one hadn’t recognized me. He seemed particularly tough.
As I drove to the hospital, I felt more relief than anything else. I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings. Without the amulet, I could’ve been ambushed if he’d spotted me walking around in the mall.
How could I protect myself from such a horde? The key seemed to be to attack their leaders, but I couldn’t imagine how to pull that off. Time to shift my focus—to destroy Hudson and the regional slayer, Escobar.
-o-o-o-
Thursday, December 12th
Ancient Languages Department, University of Colorado, Boulder, Colorado
THE UNIVERSITY’S CLASSES had finished for the fall, but Katie and I met early in the morning with Fred in his office to get an update on his progress in translating Gill’s book.
“We’ve found an academic witch who is fluent in modern-day Breton,” he said. “He also understands much of the ancient language from back when the Romans
conquered Gaul, which is now France. He’s spent numerous hours studying the electronic file we sent him, but he can’t read a word. Based on the punctuation and word groupings, he’s convinced it’s written in an old Celtic language, but it must be coded. We’re at a loss to find the key.”
“What are our options?” Katie asked.
“The best would be to find someone who holds the key,” Fred said. “If we can’t, then we have to puzzle it out for ourselves. Depending on how ingenious the encoder was, that could take years. Fortunately, this book’s a major discovery, so it’s worth spending as much time on it as necessary.”
“I’ll talk to our benefactor as soon as possible to make sure he looks everywhere the key could be stored,” I said. “What will it look like?”
“Hard to say. It could be as simple as a few lines of text that explained how to transpose certain letters. It could be an entire booklet filled with code words and their meanings.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. Gill clearly hadn’t realized it was encoded, or he would’ve given me the key. “If he doesn’t find what you’re looking for, what kind of person could crack the code?”
“The ideal code-breaker would be an expert in old Breton and a whiz at solving word puzzles,” Fred replied. “Of course, modern cryptographers tend to work for spy agencies. Darned few of them are going to know any Celtic languages. If it was written in Russian, Chinese, or Arabic, we’d have much better luck.”
This seemed like a lost cause. “What can you do?”
“The bottom line is, we’re probably going to have to settle for someone who’s neither a professional code-breaker nor an expert in Breton, but several people could work on the problem collaboratively. We won’t give up, even if it takes years to tease out the answers.”
But if the book was to be useful, I needed those answers now.
After I got home, I emailed Gill on the witches’ network to ask him to search for anything that might be a key. Fred had given me an expanded list of traits he thought the key might have, and I passed those on.
Sanctuary: The Sorcerers' Scourge: Book Two Page 14