Tricked

wait to see that love bloom in your eyes. «
    » It’s there already, sensei. Sonora showed me. While you were gone to Asgard. «
    Tears glistened at the edges of her eyes, all mockery of my Sasquatch story forgotten. She knew precisely what I meant—she had changed; she understood. And she became almost unbearably beautiful to me in that moment.
    » So it is, « I said. I sighed and tried to get the train of my thoughts back onto its original track. » After I completed binding the western hemisphere to Tír na nÓg—a process of centuries—I always kept a lookout for additional places to bind to the Irish planes. Lots of those bindings have been ruined by development, but plenty are still around. «
    » Are there any near here? «
    » There are some near Flagstaff. Or we could head west to the Kaibab Plateau. Not much else in the way of forests near here. « She accepted this without comment, and Oberon jumped in with his own question.
    › Atticus? What happened to your wolverine friend? ‹
    That is another story, Oberon, and it’s not a very happy one. He was with me for nearly a hundred years, though. I do miss him, like I miss everyone .
    › How many years have we been together? It must be forty-seven or something like that. ‹
    I petted him and kissed the top of his head. No, we have only been friends for twelve years .
    › That’s all? I’m kind of jealous of him now. What does moose taste like? ‹
    Kind of like caribou .
    › Oh, I see! Um. What does caribou taste like? ‹
    Like elk or deer, just slightly different .
    › Can we go hunt moose or caribou when this is over? ‹
    I don’t see why not. It’ll be cold though. They live far to the north .
    › Bring it! ‹
    The fact that the skinwalkers never approached the hogan and asked for a supper of Druid tartare convinced me that Famine’s spell had been successfully broken; Hel now thought I was dead. According to what Frank had shared about them earlier, the skinwalkers were more concerned with defending their territory than with anything else. I knew they would have to be dealt with eventually, but when I thought of how I might be able to match their speed, my lower left eyelid began to twitch. That problem could wait a night or so and stew in my subconscious while I conducted some business in Flagstaff.
    When it was time to greet the sun and the skinwalkers had slunk away to their evil lair—which I imagined was full of bones and skins—I pulled Coyote aside from the others.
    » Need to go to Flagstaff today to take care of a bunch of errands. You’ll be all right, won’t you? «
    Coyote scanned me up and down, searching, perhaps, for signs that I was going to abandon the project. » Well, yeah, but I thought you ran your errands yesterday in Kayenta. «
    » I have a few more to run. Should be back tomorrow. «
    Coyote pursed his lips. » Maybe I should help you run them. «
    » You’re welcome to come along if you want. But I think you’re more needed here. «
    » What is it you need to do, if you don’t mind me askin’? «
    » We gotta make my apprentice disappear. And maybe we can do something about that vampire problem. «

Chapter 15
    The key to faking deaths is a fine appreciation of arterial spray patterns. One might be tempted to simply smear a bit of blood here and there, but forensics fellows these days are a bit more sophisticated than they used to be. If they figure the scene is a fake, they’ll tell the family and then said family will never hold that all-important funeral for closure. Without a body, the coroner would never issue a death certificate, but the police would at least designate it a cold case if you could convince them there was a high probability of death.
    I have found that blood bags work very well at simulating spray with a strategically poked hole; apply pressure to the bottom of the bag, practice a bit, and before long you will be able to write stories of carnage and odes to gore.
    A small fan brush—the sort that one dude used to paint happy little trees—can paint a picture of blunt-force spatters if you flick the surface properly. Don’t use a toothbrush; those patterns are recognizable. You could even talk to yourself, as that painter did, while you flick blood around: » And maybe over here we have a nice stab wound. And, I don’t know, maybe there’s a few more back over here. Multiple stab wounds. It doesn’t matter, whatever you feel like. «
    When it comes to the actual blood, my