Tricked

automatic weapons? Can you pull a Neo and dodge bullets? «
    › Told you Neo was a badass. ‹
    » Nope. I cheat if I have the time. I dissolve the firing mechanism with a spell of unbinding. «
    » And what if you don’t have the time? « That was an even better question—a dawning ray of paranoia that should be encouraged. » What about snipers? « she added, and I almost burst with pride. I settled for clenching my fist and drawing it down close to my body.
    » Yesss! I ask myself that question every day and everywhere I go. Well done. And the answer is, you look around. « I pointed up at the buttes above us to the north and south. » I can’t stand where they’re placing this hogan, because we’re in the ideal spot to get picked off. You have to see the snipers before they see you, take cover, and then unbind their toys into hunks of useless metal. «
    » But if you don’t see them in time, or if they have one of those fancy plastic guns, you can’t do anything. «
    » Right. Except duck. Druids aren’t invincible, or else there would be more of us around. «
    Granuaile turned to consider the hogan, which was lined in the red glow of the setting sun.
    » So how do you create a ward, anyway? «
    » You can think of it like a Boolean search on the Internet. You begin by defining your boundary—‘all life is okay in here’—and then you layer on the exclusions. ‘And not frakkin’ Cylons and not douche bags and not Imperial Stormtroopers.’ «
    » That’s it? «
    » That’s what a ward is. The tricky part is defining your terms. How does the ward know the difference between a douche bag and a boy from Scottsdale? «
    » Oh, I see. « Granuaile nodded. » They’re practically synonymous. «
    » Right. Much of the time spent constructing wards is devoted to defining your terms magically. And you can’t define the magical signature of something until you’ve run across it once and laid your eyes on it in the magical spectrum. So I have no ward against skinwalkers. Trying to construct one now would be the equivalent of a null program. «
    » But you do have a ward against douche bags? «
    » Alas! Turns out they’re not malignant magical creatures at all, just naturally occurring phenomena, an evolutionary mutation of modern society. «
    Granuaile cocked an eyebrow at me. » Evolutionary? You’re suggesting that douche bags are naturally selected? «
    » Sure. Vestigial remnants of hunter behavior manifests itself as douchebaggery in males when confronted with the emasculating role of modern man, where they are no longer expected to provide food, shelter, or even spiritual guidance for their families but rather stay out of the way until it’s time to perform in the bedroom. «
    » Really? « Granuaile cocked a single eyebrow at me, her voice drenched in wry skepticism.
    » Maybe. I just made that up. « I turned to Oberon. » I should get a point for that. «
    › No, Granuaile’s not playing! You can’t do that! ‹
    » I don’t think so, sensei. Sounded pretty pointless to me. «
    › Whoa, maybe she is playing. Hound 4, Druid 3, Clever Girl 1. ‹
    Once the equipment was stowed, Darren Yazzie’s whole six-man crew—each of whom I assume was handpicked by Coyote—was going to spend the night on site as part of Chischilly’s Blessing Way ceremony. They unloaded a couple of coolers from their trucks and moved them inside, lit up a few kerosene lanterns for ambient light, and popped open some sodas. They had bedrolls and joked with one another about who was going to snore the loudest. Darren announced he was going to make a quick run into town to grab a couple of party trays full of veggies and some more ice, which was acknowledged only by Sophie; she smiled fondly at him, and I got the sense that he was doing her a favor. Frank didn’t hear him at all, absorbed as he was with arranging his jish for the ceremony.
    » Why do they need to stay? « Granuaile asked. » I mean, I get that it’s a necessary part of the ritual, but why? «
    I shrugged. » My guess is that they lend their strength and energy to the protections. The more people present, the stronger the blessing. Or the binding. I’ll be watching as it progresses. «
    Frank started singing as soon as he was ready, while there was still a touch of dark rich blue in the western sky. As I’d thought, this didn’t produce immediate silence among the crew. They may have quieted down a bit, and a couple of them were paying