Nadine straightened out and pointed them at the barrier ward surrounding Central Park, never wavering from her path. Patrick reared back and put all his strength into the throw. The last Greek coin streaked through the air, trailing heavenly magic behind it. When it hit the barrier ward mere seconds before they did, the explosion sent broken, molten bits of magic flying everywhere.
Nadine shielded them from the backwash of the barrier ward’s disintegration, the damage spreading out like a sizzling domino effect. The burn of recognition seared Patrick’s soul now that nothing stood between them and Central Park. He swallowed hard against the bitterness in the back of his throat, hell the only thing he could sense around them in the urban greenery.
“Ready?” Nadine yelled over her shoulder.
“Ready,” Patrick yelled back, because he had no other choice.
He never did.
His soul debt was always going to be do or die.
19
Nadine droveup the West Drive, aiming for the North Meadow. That’s where the pull of hellish magic was strongest. It scraped through Patrick’s soul, the rawness of where his own magic once resided a stinging pain that translated to physical aches.
With the barrier ward down, Patrick could make out the distinctive sound of explosions ripping through the air beneath the roar of the storm. He braced his weapon against his side, the body of the M4A1 carbine angled outward in case he had to shoot. Nadine wasn’t slowing down, the single headlight of the motorcycle cutting through the darkness. All the streetlamps were burned out, the only light around them coming from the flash of lightning above and the thousands of illuminated windows in the buildings ringing Central Park.
They passed SOA agents who had crossed the barrier ward to hold defensive positions at the outer perimeter. Still others were running toward the fight. He could hear the chatter of everyone getting into position through his comms and tuned them out.
It took Nadine less than two minutes to traverse three-quarters of the park at top speed. She leaned right when they came to an area of the road with multiple pathways branching off in different directions. They took a path that ran adjacent to the 97th Street Transverse, wheels never losing traction.
Nadine slowed her speed as the trees thinned out, the North Meadow coming into view, the area lit up by hellish magic. Patrick took in the sight with a grim twist of his mouth.
The metal fence surrounding the grass and baseball fields had been destroyed in areas. Fiery red-orange spellwork spanned the grass in intricate lines and large concentric circles. The structure of the spell rose into the air by way of ten pillars of light that burned a clean, pure white. One space stood dark and empty, missing a pillar, while the last was filled by the solid shape of an unmoving man. In the center, nearly hidden by the glow from the spell, Patrick could just make out the kneeling form of a person.
A spell like this always required a final sacrifice on-site. His fingers tightened on the grip of his weapon as desperate hope bloomed in Patrick’s chest.
Jono could still be alive—but not for too much longer.
“Let’s get in the field, Mulroney!” Patrick shouted.
Scattered around the large sacrificial spell were Dominion Sect acolytes battling it out with vampires, werecreatures, and a handful of SOA agents who had finally reached the scene. The ground was pitted with small craters from spelled grenades and not a few bodies. Patrick hoped none of the dead belonged to their side.
Halfway between their position and the spellwork sat Lucien’s stolen BearCat like a hulking bulwark of safety. The armored vehicle had been fully outfitted with military grade weaponry sometime during Patrick’s absence from the mortal plane. Shield wards had been set into its metal framework, providing much-needed cover in the open area. Vampires were wielding assault weapons as well as artifacts against the magic users allied with the Dominion Sect on the front line.
“I’m going to owe him so many offensive spells for this,” Patrick said.
“He’s already called in an order of defensive wards from me.”
“Worth it if we survive this.”
Nadine braked to a slick halt on the pathway, the wheels sending small waves of water into the air. They scrambled off the motorcycle, weapons in hand. Nadine took point, keeping her shield wrapped around them while Patrick fell behind to cover her six. They cut through two engaged groups on either side of them, Nadine’s shield taking the brunt of a wayward attack.
Patrick scanned their surroundings, on heightened alert. Hell was the overriding sensation he could feel, and that could really only mean one thing aside from Ethan’s magic.
Demons had entered the fray.
They were running past one of the muddy baseball fields when something moved through the trees on the little hill behind them, a shadow within a shadow. Patrick twisted around on his feet as they ran, angling his weapon behind them. His night vision was shit with all the magic being thrown around, but the threat wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
“Soultakers on our six,” he said loudly to Nadine.
“Copy that,” she said. “I’ll notify command of the sighting.”
Patrick tuned her out on the comms and braced his rifle against his shoulder. The staggered rush of hunched-over bodies coming their way was an unholy problem of the worst kind. The six soultakers separated, moving in different directions. Two headed their way and Patrick started shooting, aiming a spray of automatic fire at the demons. The spelled bullets wouldn’t make a dent in their thick skin, but he just needed to hold them back long enough for Nadine and him to get behind the defensive lines where Lucien’s vampires were.
Vampires had no souls and couldn’t be fed upon by soultakers. In the final push through Cairo during the Thirty-Day War, those in command of magic users had relied on an uneasy alliance with several Night Courts to help defend against hell. It’s why, even though they hated each other, Patrick was glad Lucien had come.
A flash of orange in the darkness snagged Patrick’s attention. He took his finger off the trigger when his brain clocked the figure asfriendly. The soultakers managed a couple more strides forward before Sage burst out of the tree line on four legs and streaked across the grass, a blur of orange and black, followed by three werewolves. In her weretiger form, she was a hulking, monstrous beast, larger than a wild tiger normally would be. Her size meant taking down the two soultakers at once was possible.
