Patrick figured it would be a really,reallybad idea if the police found out who had come to New York City. He shook his head and gestured vaguely at the door. “Go back to Marek’s home and wait for him there.”
Tyler seemed relieved at the order, even if he was a little red in the face and subtly shifting on his barstool. Getting an erection in public with no way to get relief was never fun. In fact, the only person who didn’t seem affected by Carmen’s presence was Jono.
Patrick wondered about that as he followed Carmen out of the bar, letting Einar take point. A black SUV was double-parked on the street with its hazard lights on, every window tinted black. Einar opened the side passenger door for Carmen to get in before claiming the front seat. Patrick got a glimpse of another vampire behind the wheel before Carmen gestured impatiently at him.
“Well?” she demanded. “Are you coming or not?”
Patrick and Jono climbed into the far rear seats of the SUV without argument. The second the door shut, the driver took the vehicle out of park and slammed his foot on the gas. Patrick looked over his shoulder in time to see Marek, Emma, Sage, and Leon scrambling into his Maserati, intent on not getting left behind.
“You never could stay out of trouble, Patrick,” Carmen said as she tapped away at her phone, shooting off a text message.
Patrick wanted to tell her this whole mess wasn’t his fault, but he’d be lying if he did.
10
“You have gotto be fucking kidding me,” Patrick said.
Carmen smirked over her shoulder as she wriggled a key into an old iron lock on the door and twisted it. Delicate wards burned over the iron, spreading outward to cover the warehouse door before fading away. The lock clicked loudly in the little alleyway they were all crowded in.
“We made a deal. It’s been in our Night Court for decades,” Carmen replied.
Patrick knew she wasn’t talking about just the building.
The abandoned warehouse in the Meatpacking District was one of the last few buildings not bought up by real estate conglomerates and turned into trendy nightclubs and luxury condos. It had definitely seen better days, what with its boarded-up windows near the roof and layered graffiti stretching across the entire side of the building not facing the street.
The front of the building was surprisingly inaccessible, with the only way inside being the side door located down the alley. Carmen stepped aside and let Einar push open the old, heavy door. The wards seemed to have kept trespassers at bay, though Patrick doubted that faded magic had really done much considering the power emanating from the building’s threshold once a person got close enough to sense it.
If the building didn’t want you there, then you wouldn’t stay.
The name of the place said it all, and names still held power, even in this modern age. An old, corroded brass sign still hung on the door bearing the name Ginnungagap on its plating. Patrick had to ignore the urge to run battering away at his lizard hindbrain. He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, trying to get his nerves under control. He’d closed his shields up tight, so none of the werecreatures with him could smell his fear, but they could still hear his heartbeat going a mile a minute.
Patrick would blame it on the alcohol he’d drunk, except he hadn’t had nearly enough to infuse him with much-needed liquid courage. In all honesty, he knew there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to get him through this reunion intact.
“When did she name it?” Patrick wanted to know.
Carmen stepped into the darkness beyond the doorway. “It named itself and goes where it likes. This city is one of its homes.”
Ginnungagap, the yawning abyss.
“Fucking immortals,” he muttered under his breath.
Jono shot him a sharp, appraising look that Patrick tried to ignore.
“Move,” Einar ordered as he followed Carmen inside.
Given the choice, Patrick wouldn’t set one foot on their claimed territory. But he didn’t have a choice, and that was why he was here. Patrick ground his teeth together and stepped over the threshold, fully expecting to be swallowed whole by the reality behind the myth.
He wasn’t.
The others slowly came in after him. The threshold they crossed was powerful, ancient, and surprisingly malleable in the way it filled every last inch of the building’s structure, blocking out the world. The dead zone inside the warehouse made Patrick’s skin crawl, all sounds from outside muffled inside the walls.
Patrick pulled out his cell phone to check if it still worked and found he had no signal. The dead zone blocked electronics the same way he had a feeling it would block any unwanted magic. If he still had the ability to tap a ley line, Patrick doubted he’d be able to do it past Ginnungagap’s threshold.
He tried anyway, conjuring up a couple of weak witchlights, tiny sparks of magic that could be used to light the way. Casting them felt like pulling teeth, but Patrick held the spell in his mind, making it clear his intentions weren’t anything but benign to the building and what lived inside its structure.
I mean you no harm, Patrick thought.
It felt like an age before the pressure eased and he could breathe again. A warm hand brushed against his, and he turned his head to look at Jono. The taller man was staring into the darkness with a tense expression on his face.
