Read Online Shattered: The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Seven by Kevin Hearne - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin Hearne
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town—a woman was burned for being a witch.”
She doesn’t smile after she says that, though I wait for her to do so. When the silence lengthens, I prompt her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am completely serious.”
“Oh, gods. Was she a witch?”
“I do not think so. She was poor and unmarried and therefore a target. I dress like a wealthy married woman for a reason.”
“That’s terrible. Can’t believe it happened today.”
“It is easy for me to believe. Fear ignores the pace of modernity.”
“How is he spreading the disease?”
“Do you know what a rakshasa is?”
“I have a general idea. It’s a demon of some kind, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a demon in any Judeo-Christian sense. It is the rebirth of an especially wicked human into a sort of cursed half-life. They can shape-shift at will into almost anything organic that they wish—including noxious vapors. This is maya, the power of illusion. Your father is summoning rakshasas and commandingthem specifically not to eat people or yank out their hearts or any number of other things but to cause this fast-moving disease that perplexes doctors. Hundreds have fallen ill in the past two days. Those who were infected first have now died. Tomorrow this will escalate and become international news, as hundreds turn to thousands.”
“So we find him and then you can push the raksoyuj out, right, leaving my father intact?”
“If it were that simple, child, I would not have had to call you. I cannot exorcise the raksoyuj without killing your father in the process. And even if we were to sacrifice him for the greater good—which I’m not suggesting—the raksoyuj would simply possess another body, much as I would. Like me, it is a difficult thing to kill. It needs to be bound and contained again or else destroyed on the spiritual level.”
“Can you do either of those things? Because I can’t.”
“I cannot bind him. I may be able to destroy him if conditions are right. We will need help.”
“Whose?”
“We need a Shakti—a divine weapon—to counter this aggressive spirit.”
The garden of sarcasm is watered with impatience, and mine chose that moment to bloom. “Are those on sale somewhere?”
“I do not mean a sword or a spear. I mean a devi. A goddess. I speak of Durga.”
“Not sure how I can help, then. I don’t have her email and she’s not on Twitter.”
“I will take care of contacting her. It’s already begun.” Before I can inquire what she means by that, she continues, “I was hoping you would have some method to find your father.”
I think of asking Orlaith to pull a bloodhound act using the shards as a source, but she’s a sight hound, and after the heavy rains my father’s scent would be near impossible to follow anyway. “Has anyone tried to track him through his cell phone?”
“I pursued that early this morning through an acquaintanceon the police force. His cell phone no longer transmits a signal. Perhaps you could ask the elemental to help?”
“That won’t work, unfortunately,” I explain. “Humans are just creatures bereft of identity to elementals—they’re part of the ecosystem. They recognize individual Druids only because we’re bound to them. Kaveri would have no way to distinguish my father from any other man in the area.”
“Divination, perhaps?”
“I can try. I’m not very skilled at it. Atticus didn’t dwell on it very much during my training, and I seriously doubt I would succeed where you had failed.”
“I see. Might you have a way to heal those who are ill, then?”
“Perhaps. Would that help me find my father?”
“Quite possibly. If you expel the rakshasas, he may seek you out.”
“Expel them?”
“Was I not clear? The illness is not viral or bacterial but a direct result of the rakshasas inside the victims. It is a supernatural cause, and medicine will have no effect. But your healing is magical and therefore may be of some use.”
“So each victim
She doesn’t smile after she says that, though I wait for her to do so. When the silence lengthens, I prompt her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am completely serious.”
“Oh, gods. Was she a witch?”
“I do not think so. She was poor and unmarried and therefore a target. I dress like a wealthy married woman for a reason.”
“That’s terrible. Can’t believe it happened today.”
“It is easy for me to believe. Fear ignores the pace of modernity.”
“How is he spreading the disease?”
“Do you know what a rakshasa is?”
“I have a general idea. It’s a demon of some kind, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a demon in any Judeo-Christian sense. It is the rebirth of an especially wicked human into a sort of cursed half-life. They can shape-shift at will into almost anything organic that they wish—including noxious vapors. This is maya, the power of illusion. Your father is summoning rakshasas and commandingthem specifically not to eat people or yank out their hearts or any number of other things but to cause this fast-moving disease that perplexes doctors. Hundreds have fallen ill in the past two days. Those who were infected first have now died. Tomorrow this will escalate and become international news, as hundreds turn to thousands.”
“So we find him and then you can push the raksoyuj out, right, leaving my father intact?”
“If it were that simple, child, I would not have had to call you. I cannot exorcise the raksoyuj without killing your father in the process. And even if we were to sacrifice him for the greater good—which I’m not suggesting—the raksoyuj would simply possess another body, much as I would. Like me, it is a difficult thing to kill. It needs to be bound and contained again or else destroyed on the spiritual level.”
“Can you do either of those things? Because I can’t.”
“I cannot bind him. I may be able to destroy him if conditions are right. We will need help.”
“Whose?”
“We need a Shakti—a divine weapon—to counter this aggressive spirit.”
The garden of sarcasm is watered with impatience, and mine chose that moment to bloom. “Are those on sale somewhere?”
“I do not mean a sword or a spear. I mean a devi. A goddess. I speak of Durga.”
“Not sure how I can help, then. I don’t have her email and she’s not on Twitter.”
“I will take care of contacting her. It’s already begun.” Before I can inquire what she means by that, she continues, “I was hoping you would have some method to find your father.”
I think of asking Orlaith to pull a bloodhound act using the shards as a source, but she’s a sight hound, and after the heavy rains my father’s scent would be near impossible to follow anyway. “Has anyone tried to track him through his cell phone?”
“I pursued that early this morning through an acquaintanceon the police force. His cell phone no longer transmits a signal. Perhaps you could ask the elemental to help?”
“That won’t work, unfortunately,” I explain. “Humans are just creatures bereft of identity to elementals—they’re part of the ecosystem. They recognize individual Druids only because we’re bound to them. Kaveri would have no way to distinguish my father from any other man in the area.”
“Divination, perhaps?”
“I can try. I’m not very skilled at it. Atticus didn’t dwell on it very much during my training, and I seriously doubt I would succeed where you had failed.”
“I see. Might you have a way to heal those who are ill, then?”
“Perhaps. Would that help me find my father?”
“Quite possibly. If you expel the rakshasas, he may seek you out.”
“Expel them?”
“Was I not clear? The illness is not viral or bacterial but a direct result of the rakshasas inside the victims. It is a supernatural cause, and medicine will have no effect. But your healing is magical and therefore may be of some use.”
“So each victim
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