Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six) by Kevin Hearne Page B

hunters, and carved hearts in the trunks of trees with the initials of a couple who felt there was no more romantic thing they could do to celebrate their love than scar the local plantlife. So when I saw a neat white envelope pinned to a tree, addressed to
The Shakespearean Scholar
in a neat calligraphic hand, I stopped to check it out and shifted to human.
    “Hold up,” I called to Granuaile and Oberon. “I need to take a look at this. Stay alert.”
    Granuaile shifted to human also. “What is it?” she whispered.
    “A note.”
    The envelope was sealed with red wax and the Old Norse word
hefnd
. Vengeance. The paper inside was a fine linen. There was no date or salutation or signature, just two lines from
The Merchant of Venice
, written with ink and quite possibly an old-fashioned quill. I read it aloud:
“Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause; But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs.”
    canines
. Duh!>
    “It’s Shakespeare, Oberon.”
    
    There was no postscript. Nothing written on the back. Nothing else in the envelope.
    “He expresses himself with economy.”
    “What?”
    “Never mind. Thinking aloud. Unwisely.” The clue was in the quote: Vampires ahead. The last time I saw him, back in Thessalonika, Leif Helgarson had told me that he would try to warn me with Shakespeare when Theophilus was getting close. Theophilus was the old vampire who’d set the Romans after the ancient Druids and had, until recently, thought we were all dead. Now that he knew we were alive he wanted to finish the job. But it wasn’t quite dark yet on our second day of running: That meant if Leif had left this note for me, he had to have left it before dawn, while we were still chuggingthrough Poland. That spoke of an uncomfortable prescience regarding the route I was taking, even if someone in Tír na nÓg was doing the divining. The wind was behind us and I was sure he wouldn’t be able to tell, but I asked my hound anyway:
    Oberon, do you smell the dead? Vampires?
    My hound paused to sniff the air.
    Smell this envelope. Any trace of the dead on it?
    
    So Leif had written the note, but someone human had left it here, most likely at his instruction. Oberon confirmed this after snuffling around a bit at the base of the tree.
     he said, pointing a paw south,
    “Well, there are some kind of bad guys ahead,” I told Granuaile, “if this note is to be believed. It suggests vampires, but they still have a while to sleep.”
    “Let’s go around.”
    “Around where? We don’t know how far away they are or anything else. This note may be intended to make us change our course. If we go south, in the direction of the mysterious note delivery man, we’ll be in the Harz Mountains, and that won’t be fun. If we go north we risk getting pushed into the sea before we’re ready. What we do know are two things: There are two huntresses on our tail, who are gaining ground while we talk, and heading due west is the fastest route through this piece of country since it presents the fewest obstacles.”
    “I’m sure the vampires know that too,” she said. “We should go around.”
    “It’s just now dusk,” I pointed out. “They can’t all be up and waiting for us yet.”
    “It’s not worth the risk,” she responded. “Let’s swing a single mile to the north and then turn west again. We’ll avoid whatever’s waiting ahead and lose no more than a few minutes.”
    “All right. But let’s go as humans so our weapons will be ready. Oberon and I in camouflage, you in full invisibility. Oberon, if you