Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

longer, during which she could revel in her connection to Gaia and perhaps let that smooth away some of the anger she had always felt for her stepfather.
    I think his fundamental selfishness had shaped her in a manner simultaneously beautiful and dangerous. Her determination to defend the earth was a direct result of what she perceived as his criminal trespasses against the planet—and it behooved her to punish that behavior. I had felt that outrage too, in my youth, and so had many other Druids, and there was no denying that Gaia needed her champions. But during the Industrial Revolution I realized that such outrage was poisoning my spirit. There was nothing I could do to stop the world from changing, so I had to change with it and seek a balance. I didn’t think Granuaile was completely unbalanced yet, but I could see which way the seesaw was tipping, and I wished it would go the other way.
    Skipping over her words without comment, I said, “What’s going to happen to the Fen now?”
    “Not sure,” Goibhniu said. “It’s not exactly prime real estate. Right gloomy swamp, it is, so no one’s leaping after it. You remember the old hag Scáthach? Trained Cu Chúlainn?”
    “Sure.”
    “My bet is she’ll pop in there.”
    “Huh. Didn’t know she was still around. What about the Morrigan’s duties?”
    Goibhniu took in a deep breath and sighed heavily through puffed cheeks before answering. “Manannan will take care of those who die—he was already doing half of it anyway. But I don’t expect anyone will take over choosin’ the slain or fuckin’ people till they bleed. People will still pray to her, of course, and she’ll probably act from time to time from beyond the veil, just like Lugh Lhámhfhada does, but we’ll never see her like again.”
    Perhaps it was the high alcohol content of Goibhniu’s beer, but his words hit me palpably and I suddenly missed her. She’d made life more poignant for the Irish. The terror she inspired gave peace its serenity; the pain she caused gave health its lustre; her failure to love made me grateful for my ability to do so, and I realized, far too late, that though I never did or could have loved her as she might have wished, I should have loved her more.
    “To the Morrigan,” I said, throat tight with emotion as I raised my glass.
    “Aye, the Morrigan,” Goibhniu said, lifting his glass and clearly as overcome as I was. Granuaile joined in with a bit of puzzlement but politely declined to notice out loud that Goibhniu and I were tearing up. We knew it was the end of an era; the sun cannot shine as bright without a proper darkness to counter it. The world had gone a bit gray.

Epilogue
    We had two weeks before Goibhniu’s apparatus over Zealot Island would produce any results, so we took the opportunity to fulfill a long-overdue promise. Without telling my hound what we intended, the three of us shifted to a certain Irish Wolfhound Rescue in Massachusetts. It was the same place where I’d originally found Oberon, and we were hoping that they’d have another suitable hound to adopt. Oberon had been alone far too long, and we had a promise to keep.
    Tall chain-link fences stretched away on either side of the main house, with expanses of green grass behind them—acres of turf that served as a massive dog run for a pack of wolfhounds. Seven of them barked and gamboled back and forth as we approached. Oberon’s tail wagged and he woofed a greeting to them.
    
    I hope so. We need to let Granuaile go first and see if one of them is a suitable match for the two of you
. As we paused outside, Granuaile smiled at me and gave me a quick kiss.
    “Fingers crossed,” she said, and left us to go inside.
    
    We need to find a wolfhound bitch who will get along
with both you and Granuaile, and there’s a chance we won’t find one here
.
    Oberon leapt and twisted in the air in extreme excitement. He kept spinning around as he spoke.
    Maybe, Oberon, maybe. And I’m not adopting her. Granuaile is, if she can find a smart one that you both like. And, by the way, she has to like you too. You need to be a gentlehound and win her affection by yourself. We’re not going to adopt one unless she genuinely gets along with both of you
.
    Oberon’s enthusiasm wasn’t dampened in the