Hermes rolled his eyes. “I am aware of that, Pattycakes.”
The immortal dropped his shield; rain and wind once more hit Patrick. He squinted through the rain, movement coming down Broadway catching his eye. The motorcyclist was driving at unsafe speeds for the weather, but they didn’t seem to care about that or the actual street lanes.
The motorcycle jumped the curb and braked to a stop on the cement meridian moments later, tires spinning against the slick ground as the back wheel spun around in an arc. With one foot on the ground, the driver kept their balance and the motorcycle under control as it slid in a semicircle.
The driver straightened up, helmet on but visor up. It would be impossible to see anything in this weather through the tinted, hard plastic polymer. Nadine’s keen brown eyes stared at them through the opening.
“Marek said you would be back. Now gear up and let’s go,” she said.
Nadine tossed Patrick the duffel bag secured to the seat behind her. It hit the wet ground between them with a heavy thud. Patrick knelt with a pained grunt, the lingering ache from Cerberus’ hit and Persephone’s painful touch stiffening his body, but he was good at working through pain.
He pulled out a tactical vest and hard helmet, along with one of the M4A1 carbines they’d put together back at Ginnungagap, as well as two extra magazines. Patrick pulled everything on in record time before slinging himself across the back of the motorcycle. He wrapped his arms around Nadine’s waist and settled his boots on the footrests.
“I need a sitrep!” he yelled over the sound of the storm.
“Later!”
Nadine revved the engine and twisted her hands on the handles before the motorcycle shot forward with a skidding lurch, water spinning off its wheels. Patrick looked back only once, unsurprised to see Hermes had disappeared.
Patrick faced forward and concentrated on keeping his balance in tune with Nadine’s as she sped down Broadway, heading for Central Park. She didn’t care about traffic laws and drove through intersections and down the opposite lanes whenever she had to get around what vehicles were still on the road. The closer they got to Central Park, the more crowded the streets became with first responders and the media.
Nadine veered sharply to the right, directing the motorcycle up onto the sidewalk to drive down it for the last two blocks, angling northwest. She revved the engine constantly, warning people out of her way, but no one wearing an NYPD uniform tried to stop her. A minute later she drove off the sidewalk and cut through a thin gap in the crowd of police clad in riot gear gathered in Columbus Circle. She aimed the motorcycle for a cluster of people standing outside a Mobile Command vehicle set-up in the street.
Patrick’s teeth clacked together when she braked to a halt. He scanned the faces turning their way, finally seeing a familiar one. Casale stepped forward, a tall Indian woman Patrick knew on sight if not personally right by the chief’s side. Whereas Casale was in uniform beneath an NYPD rain slicker, the woman was in civilian clothes with an SOA jacket zipped to her throat. Her dark hair was tied back in a tight braid, dark brown eyes calm and cool, despite the situation.
“Where thehellhave you been?” Casale demanded.
“Doesn’t matter. I need a sitrep,” Patrick said.
SOA Deputy Director Priya Kohli stepped forward, handing Patrick a waterproof earwig and radio set. “Special Agent Collins.”
Patrick nodded, resisting the urge to salute. “Ma’am.”
“Channel One is command. Channel Two is general operations. You and Special Agent Mulroney have access to Channel One and override authorization.”
He took the miniscule radio and clipped it to the front of his tactical vest before slipping the earwig into his left ear. He switched it on and listened to the general channel before tapping the radio to switch to the command channel.
“Special Agent Collins to command. Confirm connection, over,” he said.
It was on the tip of Patrick’s tongue to switch his designation to the call sign he’d used in the military. Except this wasn’t a military operation, and his military record was a whole lot of classified.
The line crackled in his ear before someone responded with “This is command confirming connection, over.”
“Copy, command.” Patrick focused on Priya now that he was in radio contact with those in charge. “Surprised to see you here, ma’am.”
“Director Abuku sent me to assess and shield the nexus and to liaise with the PCB in your continued absence,” Priya replied.
“Who did you bring with you?”
“Half the Rapid Response Division out of DC who could be spared have been pulled for this situation. All agents are on the ground around Central Park, but we can’t get through the barrier ward.”
She pointed at the line of trees and greenery making up the edge of Central Park that now resided behind a glimmer of dark red-orange light Patrick could only see if he looked out of the corner of his eye.
“Our team is in position,” Nadine said as she took off her motorcycle helmet. She handed it to the nearest SOA agent, who exchanged it for a hard helmet that Nadine secured with practiced fingers. “We managed to get them inside before the barrier ward closed off all access.”
Which meant Lucien, his Night Court, and the Tempest pack were inside Central Park with no magic user at hand and only spelled weapons and artifacts to fight with. Patrick knew that wouldn’t be enough, not against Ethan.
“Who is on the ground with you?” Casale wanted to know.
