Patrick set down the stack of photographs depicting mangled bodies and looked over at where Casale stood. “Your wife sent your son to guard Marek.”
“I know. I’m rethinking my appeal to Washington right about now.”
“It’s a little late for regrets.”
“I’m aware of that. You should know Rachel called me this morning as well.”
Patrick frowned. “Let me guess. She wants you to keep her updated on the case.”
“Right on the money. Of course, this is the first I’ve heard of her being interested after brushing off my concerns for the past few months when she wasn’t making it difficult to appeal. I’m not inclined to play nice.”
“You don’t need to. SOA Director Abuku instructed me to handle the case, not any local agents. You’re not required to keep Rachel updated, and I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I have no desire to be in the middle of a federal intra-agency tug-of-war. Besides, your boss said to only work through you, so I will.” He didn’t exactly sound happy about that, but Casale was nothing if not dedicated to his job and doing it right to the best of his abilities. “Now, you want to tell me what a god pack werewolf is doing following you around?”
Patrick glanced out the interior frosted windows that looked onto the hallway. He could see Jono’s shadowed form where he sat outside the door, still in the spot Patrick had left him.
“Marek wants Jono to stay with me.”
Casale crossed his arms over his chest, arching one thick eyebrow. “Does he, now?”
“He had another vision after I warded his apartment.”
Casale’s gaze sharpened. “He had another vision? Of what?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not charging you for it. I was told to keep Jono close.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Patrick tried not to let his frustration bleed into his voice. Orders from the gods always complicated everything.
“Werecreatures don’t have magic. It doesn’t make sense that you’d need to protect Jono from a demon who wants to eat magic.”
“They don’t have magic, but the werevirus was made from magic. It alters their soul for the physical change. They still die like everyone else who gets trapped in a soultaker’s teeth.”
“You think he might be a target?”
Patrick shrugged. “At this rate, who the fuck knows? But I’m not going to ignore what a seer tells me, so Jono stays.”
The situation wasn’t all bad. Jono was definitely easy on the eyes, even if Patrick needed to keep his hands to himself.
“You got anything else for me?” Casale asked.
Patrick reached out and picked up a photocopied page from an online investors website, the power couple standing in front of a desk unfamiliar to his eyes. Hermes’ warning hovered at the back of his mind, and Patrick’s eyes traced over the classically Grecian faces of the dark-haired woman and her husband.
“I need to set up a meeting with Isadora Cirillo,” Patrick said.
“Her contact information should be in the file. You got six days left. Don’t waste them.”
Casale let himself out. Patrick dragged his fingers through the sigil on the table, breaking up the silence ward. The static faded away. Before the door could shut all the way behind Casale, Jono slipped inside on quick feet, looking vaguely irritated.
“I told you to wait out in the hall,” Patrick said.
Jono dragged a chair out and sat down in it. “Piss off. Every cop out there is eyeing me like I need to be in handcuffs.”
Patrick had a split-second mental image of Jono naked and handcuffed to his bed. He bit back a groan and discreetly shifted on his chair. He seriously needed to get laid. Last night’s fun had woken up his dick in the worst way. Having Jono around testing hisdon’t touchresolve was proving distracting.
