“You don’t send cards. And I thought you were still mad at me?”
“Yes, yes, still furious as fuck. I’ll think about forgiving you if you get us out of here alive and in one piece.”
The sound of bones grinding together that came from Jono’s body as he shifted finally stopped. Jono’s massive werewolf form made Patrick breathe slightly easier. Sage had herded Wade closer to where they were, and Patrick reached out to grab the teen by the elbow, hauling him close.
“Should I shift?” Wade asked, staring up at Balor in trepidation. He swallowed thickly, both hands clutching at the jacket tied around his waist. The skin over his knuckles shimmered with red scales.
Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but the Cailleach Bheur cut him off without saying a word. The goddess slammed her staff onto the floor—
And the ice storm that erupted was beautiful in its deadliness.
Patrick’s breath puffed out as fog in the sudden temperature change. Ice spread across the floor and up the walls, all the way to the glass dome ceiling. It frosted over immediately, hiding the sky, and started to crack in a way Patrick knew wasn’t good. The sheet of ice that covered the floor was cold enough that Patrick could feel the chill through the soles of his boots.
Condensation settled over Nadine’s shield from the cold, obscuring his line of sight. Jono growled in displeasure, but Patrick wasn’t about to tell Nadine to drop her shields.
“Donot—” Medb said, sounding furious, but whatever order she was about to give never made it past her lips.
The ice beneath their feet cracked apart, along with the floor beneath it, the sound like ice shearing off a glacier to fall into the sea. It spoke of something deeper breaking—not just the ground, but the veil.
Tír na nÓg existed in the minds of mortals in a unique way. It had never been forgotten, not completely, and there was power in names and memory and belief, and a world that had always shared a border with the Old Country and the far-flung shores its children fled to.
The fae had carved hawthorn paths through the veil with the help of their gods for centuries upon centuries—passages where the veil was thin and easy for mortals to get lost in. Creating a path or a crossroad took a wealth of power that was only carried by those who possessed a godhead.
The Cailleach Bheur was the Queen of Winter, and the myths these days might have Medb sitting on her throne, but the core legends always remained where they were born.
Winter would always live in the heart of the Unseelie Court, and the Cailleach Bheur cut a new crossroad through the veil with a strength neither Medb, nor Balor, could counter.
Patrick’s stomach did that hard swoop to his feet that only came from falling through the veil as he and everyone else inside Nadine’s shields fell through the broken ice into a gray abyss.
“Shit!” Nadine cried out, drawing her magic back into her soul.
Patrick held on to Wade as they pitched down an icy hole in a freefall that made his heart beat fast in his chest. He winced at the scream Wade let out as they fell, the muscle in the teen’s arm moving in a way no human’s ever would.
“Don’t shift!” Patrick yelled.
“I need to fly!” Wade shouted, the panic in his voice making him sound younger.
Patrick tightened his grip as they fell through a gray mist where it was impossible to tell up from down. “Trust me!”
They tumbled through the veil, and Patrick lost sight of everyone but Wade. He forced the panic down about being separated again, sending his awareness deep into his soul for the soulbond. It burned as it always did, not stretched thin and feeling out of reach as it had when he’d worn Medb’s shackles.
Jono was close by, and that was all that mattered.
Patrick’s stomach crawled up his throat, the shift in gravity nearly making him sick. The gray mist thinned out, and he had just enough time to brace himself as the snowy ground rushed up to meet them. He landed in a way he’d learned long ago that wouldn’t break any bones. Patrick still got a mouthful of snow, which he spat out with a curse.
“I lost my jacket,” Wade said with a high-pitched giggle.
Patrick raised his head and blinked his eyes clear of snow, staring at the snow-covered mountains and land that stretched out before them. A large gap dipped between the two ranges, dawn’s light shining weakly over the horizon’s edge. It was brightest at the lowest point of the gap, sunlight reflecting off the hint of an iced-over lake in the far distance.
A shadow fell over him, and teeth gently nipped at his shoulder through his long-sleeved shirt. Patrick turned his head to blink up at Jono, his large wolf’s head so close it blocked out the sky.
“I’m all right,” Patrick promised.
Patrick picked himself off the ground, stumbling a little until he got his balance back. He reached for Wade, offering the teen a hand up. Wade was doing his best to hide his dick with his left hand, still not entirely comfortable being naked now that he had a choice about clothes. Once Wade was standing, Patrick wasn’t surprised to see iridescent red scales push through Wade’s skin in large patches to protect him from the elements and give him a semblance of cover.
Around him, the rest of the Hellraisers, Nadine, Sage, Gerard, and Órlaith were on their feet or getting there. Nadine raised another shield, a mageglobe spinning near her left shoulder. Patrick flexed his fingers around the hilt of his dagger, shivering from the cold. He cast a heat charm on his clothes, trying to get warm.
“Where are we?” Keith asked, scanning the area over the barrel of his rifle. He wasn’t the only one on guard and covering their location.
