Trapped (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Five) by Kevin Hearne Read Free Book Online Page B

reverberations of Perun’s plane are being felt worldwide, the Olympians would see it as their duty to prevent the creatures in their domain from suffering.”
    “Then why don’t all the world’s pantheons do the same?” I asked.
    Flidais shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps they don’t understand that there’s a problem. Few depend on the earth for travel as we do, and they might be entirely unaware. And they might also be too weak to do anything about it, whereas the Olympians still retain a decent measure of their old power.”
    These were certainly possibilities. It would be as fallacious for me to assume that the world was out to get me as it would be for them to assume the world wasn’t. In their favor was the timing: How could the Olympians have known an hour ago—in time to orchestrate something like this—that I was still around? I had to admit that, though it looked like a convenient trap forme, Flidais’s theory held much more water. The Olympians were looking after their own.
    “Brighid, though the news of my return has probably spread already, as Fand noted, will you neglect to tell Olympus, or to officially acknowledge my return, until such time as I can finish binding my apprentice to the earth?”
    She tilted her head slightly to one side. “Why should I do this?”
    “So that the world will have another Druid. One,” I added with a wry smile, “who is perhaps not so annoying as myself.” Self-deprecation is an enduring social lubricant and should be applied liberally in cases like these.
    Brighid broke into a full grin. “For that, I would do much more.” Her voice took on the three-note tone and she announced, “None of the Fae or the Tuatha Dé Danann are to speak of the Iron Druid’s return until after his apprentice is bound to the earth. Transgressors will be severely punished.”
    I nodded my thanks instead of speaking it. “Will that be all, Brighid?”
    “For now,” she said. “Your audience was not without excitement. But Fragarach is returned and we have a new Druid to welcome.” All was forgiven, then. At least in public. “Please inform us when she is successfully bound.”
    “I will,” I said.
    “Flidais will escort you wherever you wish.”
    A soft but excited
“Da! Da!”
escaped Perun’s lips. As Flidais walked up to us, a coy smile on her lips for the thunder god, the assembled crowd began to murmur and discuss my audience. Flidais said the Tuatha Dé Danann all wanted to meet Granuaile; for them, she was the highlight of the day, for she represented something new. Watching them stand next to each other, I was struckagain by how similar they looked—at least, when Flidais was all “cleaned up” like this. They were the same height, and their hair was quite nearly the same shade; Flidais’s hair leaned perhaps a bit more toward auburn.
    Granuaile had a slightly wild yet glazed look to her eyes, the look that graduates and brides get when they are congratulated by an endless train of well-wishers. Having your hand kissed by gods and your cheeks kissed by goddesses can set one’s heart aflutter, but I think she bore it well. She didn’t go all fangirl on anyone, but I suspect that’s only because none of them bore the slightest resemblance to Nathan Fillion. I’d taken her to Comic Con about eight years ago and she got to meet him; when he shook her hand and said, “Charmed,” she damn near swooned. Then she lost most of her language faculties.
    “Am. Uh. I mean. Granuaile. That’s me. Oh, gods! Hi. So handsome. You, and. Wow. Sorry! Can’t breathe.”
    I got a lot of mileage out of that one.
    Manannan invited her to his house for a pint of ale; Fand seconded the invitation and included the rest of our party and her mother, Flidais.
    “Yes, of course, ye must all come,” Manannan said. He looked expectantly at Granuaile, but she swung her gaze to me, which caused Manannan to raise a querying brow in my direction.
    “I told them not to accept any food or