“If I didn’t go last night, we wouldn’t have saved Kennedy. I wouldn’t have found a way to get us inside. I knew you would find me the same way my old team would have,” Patrick said quietly.
Jono raised his other hand and touched his fingertips to Patrick’s cheek. “You don’t leave me behind again.”
“I can’t promise that.”
Jono wanted to argue, but the tired sincerity in Patrick’s voice made him hold his tongue. The oaths Patrick had already taken over the years, the bits of himself he’d sold off, all the promises that built him would never be enough to keep him whole. Jono refused to add to the cracks.
“Then do your best to keep me with you when you fight, and I can learn to live with that.”
“Okay.”
Patrick rose up on the balls of his feet to kiss Jono, slow and careful, the press of his lips a silent apology. Jono accepted it because he could do nothing else. He wouldn’t place his anger at the situation on Patrick when all the blame belonged to the gods.
“We’re taking down the Manhattan Night Court so you don’t owe Lucien shit,” Jono murmured against Patrick’s mouth.
“A sound plan,” Quetzalcoatl said from the living room. “We should get started on it.”
Patrick pulled back with a scowl, raking a hand through his messy hair. “You could’ve knocked.”
Jono curled a hand over Patrick’s hip to keep him close as he peered over Patrick’s shoulder at where the immortal stood, dressed in what passed as a uniform for a DEA special agent. His badge hung from a chain around his neck, and the choker of conch shells gleamed around his throat. The ozone scent that filled the flat made Jono’s nose twitch.
“It’s almost noon and we need to discuss the case. Lucien wants an update, and so do I. I told your friends I would give you a ride to Ginnungagap.”
“Sure thing, Pretzel,” Patrick replied. “Right after I make some coffee.”
“And eat something,” Jono added.
Quetzalcoatl crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t have time for your stalling tactics.”
“I’m not stalling. Unlike your immortal ass, I need actual sustenance. I can’t survive on prayers,” Patrick retorted.
They didn’t linger in the flat any longer than it took to brew a pot of coffee and some tea, and for Jono to make a couple of no-fuss sandwiches with leftover lunch meat and cheese.
Jono let Patrick take the front passenger seat once they made it to the SUV that was double-parked on the street in front of the building. Patrick seemed better, but Jono knew from experience the other man was adept at hiding his injuries and exhaustion.
Jono texted Emma and the others in the group chat, saying they were on the way while Patrick conversed with Quetzalcoatl about the case. He was only half listening when Patrick squawked out a “You didwhat?”
“Informed your director we agreed to collaborate on the case,” Quetzalcoatl replied.
“You fucking liar, we didnotagree to that.”
“I either covered for you or the PCB took the heat for what happened last night. Considering what prowls the streets, I didn’t think you’d appreciate the press sinking their teeth into this story.”
Jono let them hash out the legalities of the case and who had jurisdiction for the rest of the drive, knowing his opinion wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t his job, wasn’t his skillset. He focused instead on the steady updates that Emma and Sage were feeding him in the group chat.
“Kennedy’s alive,” Jono announced during a brief lull in the argument.
“I’m a little surprised about that,” Patrick admitted.
“Emma got her to change back to human.”
“I don’t think she’ll look much better.”
Patrick spoke with the resigned knowledge of someone who knew what the worst looked like. Jono didn’t know Kennedy, had only seen her in passing at the bar, but he knew enough she didn’t deserve what had happened to her.
When they finally arrived at Ginnungagap, Quetzalcoatl parked on the street near the construction zone. Jono didn’t see any construction workers, and the threshold wrapped around Ginnungagap wouldn’t let anything pass through it without approval by the owner, or itself. Jono still wasn’t sure how the primordial void functioned in the mortal world.
Patrick’s Mustang was parked in the alleyway, the rear bumper crunched a bit on the right-hand side. Patrick groaned as they passed it by. “My premiums are going up and I’m blaming the hells.”
