Not that any of the groups affected by those laws ever strictly obeyed them.
“Well, the kid was either dealing or using, and either answer isn’t going to play well in the press or with the groups in question. If he was a mundane human, it would’ve been a nonissue,” Patrick said.
“He’s dead. I don’t consider that a nonissue,” Jono said flatly.
Patrick shrugged. “Drugs, as shitty as they are, aren’t a drop everything and eradicate now sort of problem. It’s a losing fight against supply and demand issues that will never go away. People die from overdoses every day. That’s not news. Whatisnews is a dead werecreature in a place he shouldn’t be with possible evidence of contact with vampires.”
“He could’ve got shine from anywhere,” Sage said, playing devil’s advocate.
“Kid had burn marks around his neck that looked like they came from silver. The wound was the right size and shape for a collar. In my experience, that speaks of time spent in captivity.”
Jono got to his feet to prowl around the living area, unable to sit still any longer. He could feel Patrick’s eyes on him but was still too angry to speak.
“If I had my way,” Patrick said into the tense silence, “I’d dump whatever vampire killed the kid in the middle of a desert a couple of minutes before sunrise and wait for the party to start.”
“You sound confident the perpetrator is one of the undead,” Sage said.
“In my experience, nothing human dumps a werecreature in the middle of a hidden subway station wrapped in protective wards.”
“But you don’t have proof.”
“I’ll find some.”
Jono rested his hands on the back of the sofa Marek and Sage were sat on. He looked over their heads at Patrick, meeting his determined gaze head-on. He knew the lengths Patrick would go to close out a case—they were both living with the fallout of his stubbornness, after all.
“Estelle and Youssef should be told what’s going on.”
Jonogrowled, the sound ugly and mean. “Fuckthat.”
Sage shrugged, turning to glare at him. “I said theyshould, not that we need to be the ones to do so. From a pack law standpoint, that’s what has to happen.”
“I’ll deal with them at some point but not tonight,” Patrick said.
“Too bad you can’t deal with Jono instead,” Emma said, chin tilted up in a defiant angle.
Jono dug his fingers into the cushions, mindful of his strength. Emma could destroy her own furniture all she liked, but Jono would feel terrible at making a mess of her home. “You know why, Em.”
“Yeah, well, they’re shitty alphas. You’d be better.”
Patrick arched an eyebrow at Jono but kept quiet. Jono’s mouth twisted and he let out a harsh breath. “A two-person pack won’t stand a chance in a challenge, mage or not. You know that.”
“My pack is not the only one who would follow you,” Emma said in a quiet, firm voice. “Youknowthat.”
Jono closed his eyes, feeling the echo of Fenrir’s presence deep in his soul. No one other than Patrick knew of the immortal’s favor bestowed on him. He’d carried that secret with him out of London and abided by the rules Estelle and Youssef had laid down for him around Marek’s insistence. Moments like this made Jono wonder what would happen if he gave voice to a truth few believed in.
Fenrir’s voice rumbled through his mind, the sound like teeth gnashing against bone.War.
Jono opened his eyes, shaking off the voice of a god. “Not the time, Em.”
Emma stared him down before pointedly showing her throat in a submissive manner, a gesture she offered to no one else but Estelle and Youssef, and that only grudgingly. “When it arrives, you know where to find me.”
Jono dipped his head in acknowledgment. “We’ll let Pat sort out the god pack and keep you lot updated.”
“If you need someone to identify the dead, call me,” Sage said.
“I might take you up on that if the god pack pisses me off too much,” Patrick told her as he stood, the mageglobe hovering beside him still. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Leon told him, the sincerity in his voice a far cry from the initial antagonism that had colored their first few interactions.
