Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

Titel: Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six) Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Kevin Hearne

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asked, staring at the tattoos on her arm as if they would provide an answer. Frowning, she turned to me and saw I was awake. “Did you feel that?”
    Oberon roused and yawned.
    “Yeah, I felt it.”

    “So what was it?” Granuaile said.
    “The last time I felt this was when Perun’s plane died.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “Yeah. Some plane connected to earth has been destroyed.”
    “Does that mean Loki is free?”
    “Probably. Unless someone else is destroying planes.”
    The shuddering continued, and I extended my thoughts to the English elemental, Albion.
    //Disturbance detected / Query: Source?//
    The reply confirmed my fears. //Old plane of the Finns / Burning//
    “Albion says it’s a plane of the Finns.”
    “How many do they have? Not as many as the Irish, I hope?”
    “No, I can’t think of many. Unless it’s Tuonela, their land of the dead.”
    “Why would Loki even care about that?”
    “No idea. But if he’s free again, what happened to Malina? Did she let him go, or is she a crispy critter now? Or maybe Hel found them and threatened her, or paid her off, or killed her—who knows.” Annoyed by the lack of answers, I looked up at the sky, assuming that Odin was looking in on us from Hlidskjálf. “And, hey, Odin! Are you listening? I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on Loki, since he’s such a potential problem.”
    Granuaile considered. “The Finns had a thunder god, didn’t they, sort of like Perun?”
    “Yeah. I saw him once. His name is Ukko, which basically translates to
old man
. God of the sky and thunder. He was part of the crew that came to kill me in Arizona and instead hacked up Coyote into tiny pieces. He seemed a bit more laid back than the other thunder gods, though. Probably because the Finns are just cool like that. Want to guess where they say thunderstorms came from?”
    “Oh, ew. I’m not sure, judging by the grin on your face.”
    “All that noise and precipitation gets made when Ukko and his wife, Akka, have thunderous sex. Isn’t that awesome?”
    Granuaile shook her head. “No, it’s gross. You are such a guy sometimes.”

    She’s not saying I’m occasionally female. She’s implying that I’m shallow
.

    Hey!
    Granuaile couldn’t have heard what I said, but Oberon’s comment, plus the outrage that must have shown on my face, caused her to laugh.

    “Good dog,” she said, petting him.
    “Well, I hope Ukko’s all right,” I said, steering the conversation back to safer territory, “if indeed he was the target and if this was Loki’s doing.”
    “Ukko wanted you dead and you’re worried about his welfare?”
    “Well, yeah, I guess. He also cheered when the Morrigan cut Vidar in half. I think he was more bored than truly angry with me. He tagged along for the entertainment value.”
    “If he calls ganging up on people and watching them die entertainment, I’m not predisposed to like him.”
    “Few of the old gods are truly friendly. Goibhniu is a notable exception.”

    Granuaile brightened, agreeing with my hound. “Yeah, I like Fand, and Manannan Mac Lir. They tend to save our asses, so what’s not to like?”
    “Count them amongst the few, then,” I said, and squinted west toward the sun, now low on the horizon. “You let me sleep a bit long, didn’t you?”
    “You needed it. I was just about to wake you.”
    Two large ravens swooped down from the sky and landed on the branch of an ash tree. “Ah, Odin was watching us after all,” I said, pointing at Hugin and Munin. “Perhaps we can get some answers.”
    In the mundane spectrum I still couldn’t tell them apart, but in the magical spectrum they were easily distinguished now, since Hugin glowed with more magic as the mind of Odin. Hugin jerked his beak at Munin, indicating that I should bind my consciousness with his.
    Once I did so, Odin’s memories caught me up with recent events. I saw Loki still dazed by the charms of the Sisters of the Three Auroras, specifically by Klaudia’s lips, to which I myself had succumbed once upon a time. They were decadent. Sultry. So very, very kissable. And, damn, they almost snared me through the replay. The witches and the god of mischief were still in the same field where we had left