Tricked

good underneath my feet, cool and welcoming, and the touch of Gaia’s strength was soft and warm as it replenished me.
    » Ahh. « A smile of relief spread across my face. » Granuaile, you have no idea how awful it is to be so cut off from the earth once you’re bound to it. «
    » That was less than a day, Atticus. Surely you’ve gone longer than that. «
    » Oh, yes. Prison sucked more than a little bit. «
    » What? How did anyone ever manage to imprison you? «
    » They caught me in a hospital like this, drained of magic. Aenghus Óg sent a succubus after me in Italy, and she nearly got me, because, you know, damn , she was fine. Long story short, I had to hack her up with Fragarach in a crowded plaza, and Italians, gods bless ’em, tend to object when people slice up hot women. I was already running low on the cobblestones, not enough juice left to cast camouflage, and then I had a mob after me and they beat me up pretty good. The polizia saved me from getting killed and took me to the hospital to heal up before they beat a confession out of me. They marched me from my hospital bed to their car and straight into a concrete cell. «
    » Where was Fragarach during this time? «
    » I let the polizia take it from me. «
    » No way! «
    » It was a calculated risk. They weren’t under the control of Aenghus Óg, like Fagles was, and the ironic thing about being locked away from the earth is that the Fae couldn’t find me. They had no idea where I was. «
    » What about your necklace? «
    » That was more troublesome. They did their best to take it, but it’s bound to me and not dependent on power to stay there. They cut the chain to try to remove it that way, but that didn’t work either; the amulet and the charms all remained around my neck. So I was a very suspicious lad. After about a week they took me out to this dusty courtyard to get some exercise, and once I got my shoes off that was all I needed. I filled up my bear charm and camouflaged myself, went ninja and stole back Fragarach from their evidence room, then walked out. Haven’t been back to Italy since. «
    A mischievous grin played at the corners of Granuaile’s mouth. » What was your name at that time? «
    » I am wanted there under the name of Luigi Fittipaldi. Very dangerous man but assumed to be much older now. This was back in the early seventies. «
    » Did you wear those wingtip collars and everything? «
    » Well, you know, I always try to blend in.… «
    She laughed. » That’s fabulous. All recharged? «
    » Yeah, « I said, and followed her to where the new SUV was parked. » Thank you, by the way, for watching over Oberon and me. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. «
    » You’re welcome, sensei. We going straight to the vet’s? «
    » No, we have a couple of stops to make first. «
    We drove to the Winter Sun Trading Company on San Francisco Street to pick up some necessary herbs, and once I’d blended them and bound them properly, we scooted south of the railroad tracks to Macy’s European coffeehouse on Beaver Street to pick up some hot water for tea and one of their famous San Francisco cappuccinos. I made a large cup of modified Immortali-Tea for Oberon—altered to accelerate healing—and, after one more quick stop at a grocery store, we were ready to visit the vet.
    Said vet appraised me accusingly, clearly thinking I must be at least partially responsible for Oberon’s condition. Her name was Dr. April Flores, and I wished we could have met under better circumstances. She was very sharp and I would have enjoyed talking to her about more pleasant things than wounded doggies.
    » Your dog is lucky to be alive, « she said. » I haven’t seen trauma like this before. What was he doing attacking a bear anyway? «
    I glanced at Granuaile and she shrugged apologetically. It was the best cover story she could come up with, but I thought it was at least somewhat plausible. Except that neither of us looked like we’d been attacked by a bear, so Oberon could hardly have been indulging a protective instinct. And encounters with bears in northern Arizona, while not unheard of, were rather infrequent. Dr. Flores was having trouble swallowing the story, and I didn’t blame her. But it was more believable than the truth.
    » Dogs will be dogs, « I said, a meaningless phrase that nevertheless allowed me to avoid lying. I’m not normally averse to lying, but since Dr. Flores was a nice person who clearly loved animals, I was