Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

Theophilus was getting close. Theophilus was the old vampire who’d set the Romans after the ancient Druids and had, until recently, thought we were all dead. Now that he knew we were alive he wanted to finish the job. But it wasn’t quite dark yet on our second day of running: That meant if Leif had left this note for me, he had to have left it before dawn, while we were still chuggingthrough Poland. That spoke of an uncomfortable prescience regarding the route I was taking, even if someone in Tír na nÓg was doing the divining. The wind was behind us and I was sure he wouldn’t be able to tell, but I asked my hound anyway:
    Oberon, do you smell the dead? Vampires?
    My hound paused to sniff the air.
    Smell this envelope. Any trace of the dead on it?
    
    So Leif had written the note, but someone human had left it here, most likely at his instruction. Oberon confirmed this after snuffling around a bit at the base of the tree.
     he said, pointing a paw south,
    “Well, there are some kind of bad guys ahead,” I told Granuaile, “if this note is to be believed. It suggests vampires, but they still have a while to sleep.”
    “Let’s go around.”
    “Around where? We don’t know how far away they are or anything else. This note may be intended to make us change our course. If we go south, in the direction of the mysterious note delivery man, we’ll be in the Harz Mountains, and that won’t be fun. If we go north we risk getting pushed into the sea before we’re ready. What we do know are two things: There are two huntresses on our tail, who are gaining ground while we talk, and heading due west is the fastest route through this piece of country since it presents the fewest obstacles.”
    “I’m sure the vampires know that too,” she said. “We should go around.”
    “It’s just now dusk,” I pointed out. “They can’t all be up and waiting for us yet.”
    “It’s not worth the risk,” she responded. “Let’s swing a single mile to the north and then turn west again. We’ll avoid whatever’s waiting ahead and lose no more than a few minutes.”
    “All right. But let’s go as humans so our weapons will be ready. Oberon and I in camouflage, you in full invisibility. Oberon, if you smell anybody but us, you let us know.”
    Granuaile disappeared from my sight and her disembodied voice said, “After you.”
    I cast camouflage on my hound, and he shook as if he’d just gotten out of the bath.
    Are you going to giggle? We can market an invisible plush doll of you and call it the Tickle Me Oberon
.
    
    I laughed and cast camouflage on myself. “Let’s go,” I said aloud, so that Granuaile would hear as well. I headed north and continued the silly discussion in hopes that it would help me relax.
    How would poodles even know about it? They haven’t learned language like you have
.
    
    You mean put your toy in the aisle with all the other plushies?
    
    Ha! Oh, my gods, Oberon, the imagery …
    We had gone about three hundred yards when we found ourselves at a wooded lakeshore. The water looked inhospitable; we would fight both submerged plants and scum on the surface should we attempt to swim it. If we wanted to continue north, we’d have to go around. If we circled east we’d be heading back toward the huntresses; if we went west it would be toward whatever nameless threat waited for us.
    “Bugger. Boxed in and we didn’t even know it,” I said. “You okay with turning west, Granuaile?”
    Her voice answered from my right. “We don’t have too far to go. It doesn’t look like a long lake. We can swing back