“What do you mean?”
“Upon any tree being dispelled with cold iron—or anything else—the rest are able to isolate themselves and remain intact. You cannot dispel the entire ward, in other words, only the portion of it you walk through with your cold iron. The remaining trees are supposed to note the absence of any around them and trigger a response.”
“What response?” Granuaile asked.
“That I do not know. It could be an attack. Or it could merely be an alarm, letting the casters know that the ward has been broken.”
“Normal folks pass in and out without consequence, then,” I said. “Clever.”
“I’m normal folks,” Owen said. “No cold iron on me.”
“They will, however, like us, be able to detect the use of magic nearby,” Yosef said. “If you were to use any magic at all, they would know it.”
“Fair enough. I should be able to take a look inside, though, to scout. Or any of you lot could do it.”
“You go,” I said. “But keep your right hand in your pocket so no one spots your tattoos.”
Owen scanned the three buildings and chose the yellow cream one on the right, with Dolce & Gabbana on the bottom floors.
“I like that it has a green door,” he said, explaining his choice.
He walked through the ward without trouble, disappeared into the building, and returned not five minutes later.
“There’s a hallway that goes back a ways. No place to hide. Elevator and stairs at the back with a man there asking if I was a resident. Both the elevator and the stairs are fecking narrow and I wouldn’t want to go up either one. Anyone at the top would have one hell of an advantage.”
“What was the man like?” Granuaile asked.
“Big bastard. Had one of those modern suits and a curly thing coming out of his ear. Clearly security. But there was someone else too. Not a guard exactly, and he said nothing, but he looked at me closely. He was sitting on the stairs, had these loose white clothes on him and an orange sash with symbols sewn on it in gold. And the weirdest hair I’ve ever fecking seen.”
“How so?”
“Shaved on the top and above the ears except for a greasy strip all the way around, like a hairy ring.”
“A tonsure?” I asked.
“If I knew what a tonsure was, maybe I could fecking answer ye.”
“So we have bodyguards and spooky cultist types,” Granuaile said.
“Any other wards inside, Owen?”
“I’m sure there’s plenty more upstairs, but I didn’t get there. Didn’t want to start a fight without knowing the odds.”
I turned to the rabbi. “If you have kinetic wards, I’d start with that. If they’re expecting me, then they might come out with guns blazing. Or they’ll use something else mundane that cold iron can’t dispel.”
“Of course. And then a cloak of indifference. Innocent people will not care about what we’re doing. Not that there are many people out here on a day like this.”
“All right. We’re going to withdraw out of sight, and then we’ll swoop in if needed.”
The rabbi had no problem with this and immediately resumed his conversation in Hebrew with the other Hammers of God. Owen, however, had an objection.
“Why are we hiding? Let’s kick some arses already and go home.”
“We need to draw them out first,” I said. “The Hammers can ward themselves on the dead land, and their ward moves with them. We can’t do either, and we also can’t afford the energy. If we stay in the open when this begins, the most likely result is we’ll get shot. If we charge in there, the likelihood of getting shot is even higher—that guy with the crinkly thing in his ear probably had a gun underneath his jacket, and there are, without doubt, many more men like him upstairs. You taught me yourself, Owen: Never give the enemy what he wants. They want Druids to walk into that trap, so we’ll give them Kabbalists instead.”
Owen bared his teeth and growled in frustration. He hated it when I was right.
With a little bravado and a little luck, we ascended to the rooftop room in Babington’s with a view of the piazza. It was almost like a picnic pavilion, with a low wall, wide-open windows, and fantastic views. Down to our left and proceeding up behind us, the Spanish Steps rose to the church at the top. The piazza in front of us showed the ten Hammers of God aligning themselves in a Tree of Life formation, with Rabbi Yosef at the top, facing the green door near the entrance to Dolce & Gabbana.
“You’re in for a show,” I said to Granuaile and Owen. “You’ve never seen this kind of magic before. Those beards are going to throw down at some point.”
“What? Their actual beards?” Granuaile said.
“You’ll see.”