Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

north on the other side of it. If vampires are waiting for us, I’d rather get past them if we can before they rise.”
    “Good call.”
    After clearing the lakeshore and turning north, we broke into an odd-shaped field that might have been natural at one time but had clearly been cultivated in the past. Now it lay fallow, with random weeds and grasses sprouting out of it. It was the sort of place one expected to find deer and the like, but no whitetails bounded away from us. No birds chirped either. Despite being in camouflage, I felt exposed. When moving quickly like this, I wasn’t exactly invisible; the camouflage couldn’t keep up with the constantly shifting background and I could be seen as a distinct blur, especially since there was still a bit of sunlight left.
    Oberon, do you smell anything?
    
    I don’t like this meadow. There’s something out—

Chapter 10

    When the blurred shape of Atticus fell in front of me, at first I thought he’d simply tripped and I almost laughed, because pratfalls have been amusing since the Stone Age. Then I heard the belated crack of a rifle to the south and Oberon’s startled cry:
    Stay with him
, I said, as the training kicked in and I turned toward the direction of the shot.
I’m on the threat
. There was nothing I could do for Atticus that he couldn’t do for himself, except address the sniper. And by
address
I meant destroy him, no shriving time allowed. My scruples regarding the taking of life evaporate when people try to kill us.
     Oberon said. He sounded truly panicked and it began to worry me. But I had to worry about the sniper first. Especially after I felt a bullet whip by my ear and then heard the report right afterward.
    I was still invisible, but that was way too close for a random shot—especially since he’d obviously hit Atticus while he was in camouflage. Logic dictated that the sniper must be able to see us—probably using an infrared scope. Our spells did wonders in the visible spectrum but did nothing to mask our heat signatures.
    Though I was reluctant to do it, I dropped my staff and said goodbye to my invisibility. Atticus had taught me that superior fighters sometimes lose because of a failure to adapt to a shift in the enemy’s tactics. The enemy had clearly come prepared to fight against camouflage and invisibility, so it was time to mix it up. Sniper rifles are usually mounted on stands or pods and are ill suited to taking out fast-moving aerial targets. So I shifted to a peregrine falcon and flew as fast as I could. I still wasn’t terribly good at flying, but I figured it would get me above the canopy in one piece. Once I was above the trees, he’d have more trouble finding me than I would have finding him.
    
    Stay and guard him, Oberon. Trying to make sure we don’t get shot at anymore. I’ll be there as soon as I can
.
    I hoped it wasn’t serious. Blood on the ground sounded serious, but I couldn’t begin to think about what that might mean yet. If I allowed myself to get distracted, I wouldn’t survive. Fight now, feel later.
    Another shot boomed through the early evening, but it wasn’t close enough for me to sense its passing. I saw the muzzle flash and banked around in that direction.
    My eyesight as a falcon made me feel half blind as a human by comparison; I could see three times the detail with my black eyes that I could with my green eyes. I could clearly track the sniper abandoning his stand and rifle and running through the forest from two hundred yards away. From that distance, he was one hell of a sniper to hit Atticus on the run.
    He pulled a sidearm from his vest—one of the bulletproof type, not a waistcoat—and loaded a round into the chamber. All black gear, no natural materials for me to bind, and if I’d been trying to follow him with human eyes, even with night vision, he’d be tough to spot. But Iwas looking at him through a raptor’s eyes: His silhouette stood out against the forest floor like ink on bristol board.
    The sidearm would be a problem if he got a chance to use it. He hadn’t exhibited any supernatural powers yet—nothing vampiric, anyway—but he clearly had some paramilitary training at the very least, if not the real thing. I couldn’t take him