“Patrick,” Isadora said, with far too much familiarity in her voice.
He thought about Hermes’ message in his now-destroyed car, and the implications of the relationship Hermes had with the woman speaking on the other line.
“Mrs. Cirillo, I presume,” Patrick said carefully.
“I expected the SOA to get involved. I didn’t think they would send you.”
Patrick rubbed at his eyes until spots burst across his the back of his eyelids. “I don’t know you.”
“Then I suppose it’s time we were introduced. My office is closed tomorrow. You’ll meet me at my hearth and home instead.”
“Will I?” Patrick asked, glaring down at the business card and a name he doubted was real.
“It is the least you owe me and mine.”
He tried not to flinch at her words, but it was hard. Patrick had an idea of who he would be meeting when he knocked on her door. Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to it. “What’s your address?”
Isadora gave it to him, then hung up. Patrick set his phone on the table and tossed the business card aside. It landed on a photograph of a body, hiding the carved-open chest cavity.
People were dying with signs carved into their eyelids for a reason. The reason wouldn’t be found in the case files at the PCB. It could only be found in Patrick’s past. It was his job to tie it all together, but he really didn’t fucking want to.
Doing so would make the nightmare real.
When he dragged his gaze away from the files scattered over the table, he found Jono staring at him with a quiet intensity that made him tense up.
“What?” Patrick asked defensively.
“Hope you don’t plan on going alone,” Jono said.
Patrick wondered what the Fates would do if he left Jono by the wayside. “I’ll decide in the morning.”
Jono wasn’t impressed with that answer, but he let the argument drop. Patrick went back to digging through the case files, because some days the dead were easier to deal with than the living.
Setsuna called him in the late afternoon, her name on his cell phone’s screen breaking his concentration. Patrick abandoned the detailed photos of dead bodies in favor of answering. Across from him, Jono looked up from his phone, head tilting to the side.
“A car bomb? Really?” Setsuna asked in lieu of the traditional hello.
“Military grade. Ruined my rental and two other nearby vehicles. The hellfire caused a small fire on the roof of the building, but the wards kept it from burning anything critical.”
“Nothing you couldn’t handle since you’re still breathing.”
“I told Casale that. He didn’t take it too well.”
“He doesn’t know you like I do.”
“Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me at all.”
“We can’t change the past, Patrick. The future is what we need to worry about. I’m calling to tell you one out of two of your task force is in town. They’ll meet with you tonight.”
Some of the tension in Patrick’s shoulders eased, but only a little. “Where?”
“They’ll find you, so make yourself available. And Patrick?”
“Yes?”
“Stay alive.”
Setsuna hung up. Patrick pulled his phone away from his ear and scowled at it.
