In Patrick’s experience, when fighting against the hells, it wasn’t a bad thing.
16
Thursday dawned clear and muggy.The low-grade headache that had been Patrick’s constant companion the day before had finally faded with the help of sleep and half a pot of coffee. Jono hadn’t let him flavor it with whiskey since he had an 0900 meeting with SAIC Henry Ng about the case, which was just unfair.
“You don’t want to smell like you’ve spent the night pissed whilst out at a pub,” Jono had said before kissing him and shoving him out of the apartment with a thermos filled with coffee.
Patrick could see his point, but he could also see the point ofwhiskey.
His cravings were through the roof ever since he’d taken shine, and self-medicating was the only way Patrick knew to overcome it. No way was he ever going to touch that shit again of his own free will, but the comedown sucked.
Holding on to his thermos tightly in one hand, Patrick flashed his SOA badge at the security guards on duty in the federal building that housed his agency’s New York City field office downtown. He tapped his access pass against the sensor that controlled the closest security gate and walked on through, bypassing the secretarial desk for the elevators.
Patrick took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor. His office was on a lower level, but he hadn’t really seen it for almost two weeks at this point. The floor that housed the office of SAIC Henry Ng hadn’t changed much since Rachel Andrita had been ousted from her position and arrested for treason. Last he heard, she was being detained at a location only a handful of people knew of, and he wasn’t one of those.
Patrick gave it another few weeks before the Dominion Sect caught up with her and she died under mysterious circumstances.
Chugging down some coffee, Patrick waved hello at Henry’s executive assistant. The young woman had transferred from San Francisco to New York City, along with a few other support staff. Tiana Martin wasn’t a magic user, but she had a steel spine inside her polite demeanor that Patrick knew better than to mess with.
“Door is open,” Tiana said with a quick smile, barely glancing away from the computer screen as she typed.
“Thanks.”
Patrick still knocked, waiting for the muffled “Come in,” before entering.
The corner office seemed more welcoming than the last time he’d stood in it. The furniture remained the same, but the décor had been switched up to account for Henry’s taste. The warlock in question was in his late thirties, had an affinity for elemental magic, and could cut someone off at the knees verbally when pressed. It was a trait Patrick could admire when it wasn’t directed at him.
“Sir,” Patrick said politely as he nudged the door shut behind him with an elbow. The silence ward wrapped around the office hummed to life, a burst of static in his ears before fading out.
“Collins,” Henry replied. “You’re the source of all my headaches this week.”
“Sorry, sir. Can’t be helped.”
“I’m sure it could if we didn’t have a fight brewing in the preternatural world.”
“If that stopped happening, we’d be out of a job.”
“Some days I think that wouldn’t be so bad.” Henry gestured at the pair of leather chairs in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”
Patrick did as he was ordered, setting his coffee thermos on the ground near his feet. “Have you read my report?”
“Yours, and the PCB’s. The DEA promised our agency would be read into their current investigation by the end of today. You haven’t been answering your phone or emails.”
“I’ve been busy,” Patrick hedged. This was the first major case he’d handled with Henry running the field office. The long leash Patrick had been given was probably due to Setsuna’s interference, but Henry didn’t seem as annoyed about that as Rachel had been.
“I’m aware of how you run your cases, Collins. I also know you’ve prevented quite a lot of catastrophes if one reads between the lines.”
That’s one way of putting it. Patrick shifted on his seat. “I’m trying to do that here.”
Henry studied him for a long minute before sighing. “I understand this case revolves around a breakdown of treaties held between the Night Courts and the god pack.”
“That’s part of it.”
Henry might have read the reports, but there was nothing like putting a human spin on events. Patrick gave the other man a concise update from yesterday, sticking to the story he knew would be believed—namely, one that didn’t revolve around the gods and which skimmed over the fact he’d taken shine but not his escape from Tremaine’s Night Court.
“If the subway wards have been compromised, we need to move on that,” Henry said with a frown when Patrick finished.
“I understand your concern, but if we move now, I think that will endanger too many people. I have a plan in place, and the DEA has signed off on it for support purposes. I just need your authorization to use an SOA artifact.”
