Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)

by Kevin Hearne

But sometimes we do things that make no sense except in some arcane calculus hidden in our emotions.

The truth is, your smarts are better hidden than a pair of snake nuts.”

People do that—cling to their past because it’s the only thing they consider safe. Trying something new or just accepting it turns their livers into jelly. But that’s a load of bollocks. Ye take the new and appreciate it if it’s good, like whiskey or poutine or girlfriends who bite, or ye dismiss it as shite if it’s bad, like cell phones and cars, and move on.

We pad down the corridor toward the sounds of hissing, which is not typically a good survival strategy.

My stepfather has lurked in my mind like dishes left over from a dinner no one enjoyed and no one wants to clear away.

“Fecking stew me bollocks in the queen’s own cup o’ tea,

I suspect most people have someone like Beau Thatcher in their lives—a person standing in between who you used to be and who you want to be, guarding the wall and proclaiming that you shall forever be imprisoned by their expectations and obligations. Crossing to the other side will always be a struggle and fraught with dangers that may leave scars. But, oh, the reward when you leap over that wall or break through it and shed the burdens of the past! I am light and free and my path ahead is smooth and wide through a land of burgeoning promise.

Ye remember the fallen and share why they were important to ye and give what comfort ye can to the family, even if it’s fecking useless and your words can’t possibly mend the hole torn open in their world and the yawning abyss of the future without their loved one. People still need to know that ye would fix everything if ye could.

know that when ye think o’ love you’re supposed to think o’ kissy faces and scented soap and hummin’ happy songs together, but there’s another vital part to it that people rarely admit to themselves: We want somebody to rescue us from other people. From talking to them, I mean, or from the burden of giving a damn about what they say. We don’t want to be polite and stifle our farts, now, do we? We want to let ’em rip and we want to be with someone who won’t care if we do, who will love us regardless and fart right back besides.

that’s not how guilt works on a mind. It points out a string of cause and effect to saddle you with responsibility that isn’t yours, and then it hops into that saddle, rakes you with spurs, and rides you until you collapse.

Few things shape our lives so strongly as guilt.

“Since I’ve become a Druid, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit, Atticus,” Granuaile said, “but Beardy Baggins there squaring off against Squid Head McGee in the snow might be the weirdest.”

Sometimes you simply need to say thank you to someone, to be grateful for the road behind and the road ahead and the place you’re at, and gods are very good at accepting those feelings. And for all that humanity asks them for intercession with this crisis or that, it’s important when things go well to be thankful or at least conscious of your good fortune, whether the gods deserve the gratitude or not. We strive so much to achieve these small slivers of balance that it would be a shame not to look around and appreciate them when they happen.

fear. What I should be doing was the same thing everyone should be doing: enjoying the blessings I have while I have them, instead of worrying that one day they will be gone.