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By Root 716 0

an escape route in case something big and nasty or official arrived. In a closet marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, next to the bathroom, I had a steel-rung ladder bolted into the wall that led to a trapdoor in the roof. Said trapdoor couldn’t be opened from the outside, in both practical and magical terms. I was the only one who could budge it.

To give the rabbi the slip, I climbed the ladder with the silver knife between my teeth, pirate style, and crept out onto the roof, staying low in the early-evening shadows. I cast camouflage on myself and shed my clothes, regretting the necessity of leaving my cell phone behind. I tied one end of a piece of string around my key ring and the other end around the hilt of the knife. That done, I bound my form to the shape of a great horned owl and firmly gripped the string in my talons. I then cast camouflage on it, the keys, and the knife and lifted off, silently, invisibly, into the Tempe night. I didn’t fly straight home but rather lit high up in the branches of a large eucalyptus tree near Mitchell Park. I spent a good quarter hour just looking around to see if anything had followed me, on both the mundane and the magical planes. How the rabbi could have possibly followed an invisible bird he didn’t know to look for was beyond me, but paranoia was my standard operating procedure.

Finally satisfied, I glided home and spiraled down into my backyard, where I released the binding and returned to my human form. Oberon was very happy to see me.

he said.

I cooked dinner for us, then gave Hal a call from my home phone to suggest he pick up the silver knife to aid in the investigation of Father Gregory and Rabbi Yosef. I left it on the front porch for him, the blade carefully wrapped in oilskin for his protection, then immediately began to work on shielding my house from Kabbalists. Once I finished, hours later, I felt mentally drained from the exertions of the day, but I crashed gratefully on my bed and counted myself lucky that I didn’t need to spend another night healing outside.

Chapter 17

The Morrigan tried to wake me up gently this time, but she still managed to startle me into a waking nightmare.

“Gah! Please tell me you’re not horny,” I begged, clutching the sheets and trying to hide behind a pillow.

“No,” she replied, smirking, even though she was sitting naked on the edge of my bed, raven hair falling on alabaster skin. “I have returned with the amulets.” Four black droplets of cold iron shifted with the percussive clack of rocks in the palm of her hand. “Goibhniu was quick.”

“Ah, that’s great.” I lowered the pillow and sighed in relief. “Very good. Because I don’t think I could take another day like yesterday.”

The Morrigan laughed, genuinely amused, and it did not sound remotely malicious to me. “You look well, Siodhachan. You are completely recovered.”

“Physically, yes. But you left me in an awkward position with Brighid, and you know you did.”

The goddess of death snorted. “I saw that she redecorated your kitchen.”

“She tried to kill me, Morrigan. She could have killed my hound.”

“I felt no danger for you at any time.” Her head shook slowly and a tiny smile stretched across her face.

“Will you ever feel that danger again, now that you’ve agreed not to take me?”

“Oh, yes, I know I will, because I already have. It’s coming.”

“It is? When?”

“Very soon. Today or tomorrow. You battle with shadowy figures.”

I was bemused. “That … kind of sounds like a horoscope.”

The Morrigan laughed again. She was in an extraordinarily good mood. “I suggest you perform your own divination. Soon. But for now I come bearing gifts. These three extra amulets are yours to dispose of as you wish. And there is a package of fresh sausage in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Morrigan,” I said, taking the three amulets from her. They were teardrop shaped, with a loop at the top to string on a necklace. “Oberon’s going to love the sausage. Shall I cook breakfast for us?