In response, Patrick found himself grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall by the door, Wade’s frightened yelp ringing in his ears. Patrick’s head smacked hard against the wall, and he scowled through the pain.
“Fuck, at least let me put on my hard helmet before you start knocking me around,” Patrick got out around Lucien’s heavy grip.
Lucien was so close his face was a blur in Patrick’s eyesight. “Isaidno cops.”
“We need the backup, and Quetzalcoatl agreed. You mind letting me breathe?”
Lucien only tightened his grip until Patrick gagged.
“Let him go.”
The voice wasn’t familiar, but the electric recognition of a god burning through his magic was. Patrick looked askance at where Áltsé Hashké stood so close he could reach out and touch the immortal if he wanted.
Patrick kept his hands to himself. He wished Lucien would do the same.
“This isn’t your business, Áltsé Hashké,” Lucien warned.
“It has been my business since Tezcatlipoca first started sacrificing werecreatures. Let Patrick go. The debt he owes us supersedes the one you brokered out of him.”
Lucien loosened his grip by degrees but didn’t immediately let go. Patrick sucked in a breath around the fingers still wrapped around his throat.
“The cops and the feds don’t know who you are, Lucien. I said I’d help you take over the Manhattan Night Court. You didn’t specifyhow,” Patrick said.
“Details matter,” Sage said as she suddenly appeared by Patrick’s side, smiling grimly at Lucien right before she yanked the vampire’s hand off his throat. “Don’t touch him again.”
Lucien didn’t seem put off by either Sage or Áltsé Hashké. His attitude would be called careless in anyone else, but Patrick knew this was just the way Lucien was. The master vampire was capable of analyzing what happened around him, pick apart the weakness in everyone, and twist events to suit his exact purpose.
Lucien wasn’t careless, he wascalculating.
Patrick rubbed gingerly at his throat as he bent down to retrieve his duffel bag from where it had fallen off his shoulder. “Admit it. The cops are a good idea.”
“I won’t make a distinction of sides if they get in my way.” Lucien’s black eyes flickered between the three of them before he raised a hand and gestured sharply at the door. “We’re on a schedule. Get moving.”
As much as Patrick would give anything to not be part of this coup, he had promises to keep, places to be, vampires to kill. His life could be called a lot of things but never dull.
Sunset was five minutes in the past, but Lucien’s vampires were all fed and ready to fight. They gathered up the duffel bags containing their gear and filed out of Ginnungagap. Patrick raised an eyebrow at Áltsé Hashké.
“You coming?” he asked.
The trickster god stroked a hand down the breastplate made out of white bone beads tied together by black leather strips. “I will see this to the end.”
“Hate to break it to you, but the Fates can’t see that.”
Áltsé Hashké smiled, yellow eyes crinkling at the corners. “They are not my Fates.”
Honestly, Patrick wished they weren’t his either.
He corralled Sage and Wade, hustling them out of Ginnungagap after Lucien. Members of Lucien’s Anahuac Cartel, led by Sergio, were waiting for everyone out on the street in a line of SUVs two lanes deep that didn’t look suspicious at all.
“It’s like they want to be noticed,” Patrick muttered under his breath.
Sage huffed out a small laugh but kept her opinions to herself.
Patrick hastily conjured up a mageglobe and cast a look-away ward over the area. Everyone was piling into the SUVs with their gear, all seats taken. Patrick found himself riding shotgun in an SUV with Sage, Wade, Irena, and a couple of cartel gang members. Their driver was a petite woman dressed like she was ready to rob a bank and take a selfie at the same time judging by her pristine makeup.
He kicked absently at the duffel bag between his feet. Patrick didn’t know where Áltsé Hashké wandered off to. The immortal didn’t join them in their chosen vehicle as the convoy of SUVs broke up to take different routes to the West Fourth Street-Washington Square Station. Patrick dropped his look-away ward as everyone drove off, drawing down his magic.
Patrick tried not to think about Jono on the ride to their designated subway station, but it was a losing battle. Patrick resisted the urge to tug at the soulbond, not wanting to distract Jono in case he was in the middle of something important—like fighting for his life.
