Hounded

had the same binding spell on it that I had put on Fragarach in my backyard. Nothing could go out the door unless it had first been placed on the counter next to one of the registers. More than one would-be thief had been forcibly pulled back into the store by the items in his pocket.
    » Okay, I’ll go turn on the music. Celtic pipes? «
    » Nah, let’s do some guitar this morning—that Mexican duo, Rodrigo y Gabriela. «
    » Right. « Perry headed toward the back of the store, where the sound system was, and I filled a couple of kettles in the sink and put them on to boil. A couple of regulars would be coming in as soon as we unlocked the door, so it was best to have the water ready. I glanced over at the paper racks and saw that Perry had already filled them.
    Some Spanish guitar came on through the sound system, its World beat suggesting to customers that here they could not only find refuge from corporate radio, but also much else that was stale and prepackaged and bereft of mystery. Perry strode back to the door, brandishing his keys, and said, » Okay to open? « and I nodded at him.
    The first person to walk through the door was my daytime lawyer, Hallbjörn Hauk—he used the name Hal for modern American usage. He was dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit with a white shirt and pale yellow tie. His hair, as ever, was immaculately styled in a Joe Buck haircut, and the dimple in his chin smiled sideways at me. If I didn’t know he was a werewolf, I would have voted for him.
    » Have you seen the morning papers, Atticus? « he said without preamble.
    » Not yet, « I admitted. » Good morning to you, Mr. Hauk. «
    » Right. Well, then, perhaps you’d better take a look. « He grabbed a copy of The Arizona Republic and slapped it down forcefully on the counter in front of me, pointing to a headline on the right-hand column. » Now, tell me, lad, « he said in his best faux-Irish accent tinged with ancient Icelandic, » would y’be knowin’ anything about this spot o’ trouble here? «
    The headline read, RANGER FOUND DEAD IN PAPAGO PARK.
    Casting off my American accent, I replied in kind: » I’d be knowin’ more than is comfortable, just between me and my attorney–client privilege. «
    » I thought as much. I heard Coyote laughin’ last night, and he doesn’t laugh at the harmless, does he now? «
    » No, he doesn’t, sir. I might be needin’ your help sooner rather than later. «
    » Right. I’ll be seein’ you for lunch, then, at Rúla Búla? « He named the Irish pub at the north end of Mill Avenue that was my favorite hangout. » I’m thinkin’ it’s high time we had ourselves a heart-to-heart, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t be had over the best fish and chips in thirty states. «
    I nodded and said, » At high noon, sir, « though I could not figure where he had pulled the number thirty from. Which twenty states had better fish and chips than Rúla Búla? He had evidently been paying more attention to fish and chip cuisine than I had, and I must admit that I felt a twang of guilt. The finest fish and chips in the land was more than a mere trivial pursuit for me, and I had sorely neglected it for an abominably long time. Most places excelled in either one or the other, but rare was the establishment that paid equal attention to both sides of the culinary complement. Rúla Búla was one of the few Irish pubs that savored the chip as well as the fish, and its presence had been a determining factor in my decision to grow roots in Tempe.
    » Right, « he said. » See you then, « and he exited without another word.
    My senior regulars came in: Sophie, Arnie, Joshua, and Penelope. Joshua grabbed a newspaper and pointed out the same article Hal had shown me. » God, would you look at this, « he said, waving at it. » It’s like we’re back in New York. « He said almost the same thing every day about one article or another, so I was oddly comforted by it.
    A lone searcher arrived, seeking something that wasn’t Judeo–Christian and buying a primer series in Buddhism, Hinduism, and Wicca. » May harmony find you, « I said, and he dipped his head to me as he left. He had my respect: At least he wasn’t content to be fed the diet on the television. And then something unusual walked through my door.
    She was a witch. Her personal wards radiated warnings, and even though I was not adept enough to know what they did or what they protected her from, I knew by her aura what she was. I