More riders approached, one carrying a golden net that made Jono’s lips peel back from his fangs and had Fenrir fighting for control.
Give me your body, Fenrir demanded.
Jono hesitated, but before he could decide something so monumental, a familiar voice cut through the howls and screams filling the air.
“Get thefuckaway from him.”
Patrick’s furious yell sent relief coursing through Jono’s veins. Something streaked through the air to land in front of Jono’s paws, forcing the lead rider to pull up short behind the circle of black hounds.
The spear was sleek, the pole made out of bone and topped with a long notched blade that embedded itself in the sidewalk. The black hounds scuttled backward, sliding between the legs of half a dozen ghostly horses, whining in distress. The fae around him froze, horses shying away from the weapon.
“He is not yours to take,” someone else called out. “This isn’t your home, Wild Hunt.”
The lead rider’s gaze dropped to the spear, and her eyes narrowed. She clenched her fingers tight around the reins in her hands before yanking on them. Her horse twisted to the side and vaulted over a hound before launching itself into the sky.
By an unspoken order, the Wild Hunt followed its leader into the storm, taking those they had captured on an endless ride. The ghostly illumination went with them, leaving the street in darkness for a few seconds. Then the streetlamps flickered back on, snow still falling on the eerily quiet street. Jono turned his head to see Patrick racing down the sidewalk toward him, followed by two men he recognized from pictures he’d seen on Patrick’s mobile.
The taller man yanked the spear out of the sidewalk using only one arm. He spun it around with an unconscious ease, letting the intricately metal-capped end rest against the ground.
Jono stayed put as Patrick skidded to a halt beside him, boots sliding over the slippery sidewalk. Jono leaned into him, helping him stay upright. Patrick sank both hands into Jono’s thick fur, bending down a little to look Jono in the eye. He didn’t have to move far; Jono’s werewolf form was large enough that Patrick could climb onto his back and ride him like a horse if the need was great enough.
“You all right?” Patrick asked in a tight voice.
Jono gape-grinned at him and couldn’t resist licking Patrick’s face. Patrick spluttered, using his jacket to wipe the wetness off his cheek.
“Hey!” someone yelled from farther down the street. “Who’s paying the fare?”
Jono huffed out a snort.
Bloody taxi drivers.
7
“I understandthe commissioner isn’t happy, but it’s not like I have control over the fae,” Patrick said flatly.
Bureau Chief Giovanni Casale of the NYPD’s Preternatural Crime Bureau crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Patrick. His winter jacket had an image of an NYPD badge screen printed on the left side over his heart. Casale’s graying black hair was hidden beneath a wool beanie with NYPD stitched on the folded cuff. Patrick could sense the heat charms embedded in every piece of clothing Casale wore. Angelina Casale took great care in keeping her husband safe however she could.
“This mess on top of the missing Wisteria child isn’t doing the fae any favors,” Casale said.
Patrick looked down the street at where NYPD officers and CSU were finishing up collecting evidence of the frigid crime scene. Tow trucks were on hand to clear the abandoned vehicles. Officers had a long night ahead trying to match whoever owned the vehicles to the people the Wild Hunt had taken and then notifying the families of the missing.
“The SOA is handling the missing child case as the agency sees fit. As for the fae, that’s better handled through the State Department. You should tell the commissioner that.”
“These are innocent people who are now gone, Collins. You and I both know recovering them will be next to impossible.”
Patrick grimaced. “I know. The SOA is working on it.”
Casale’s eyes narrowed. “Are you taking lead?”
“For now, but missing children aren’t my specialty. The Wisteria case will most likely get transferred to a different agent in the long run.”
“What about the Sluagh and the Wild Hunt?”
“I’m working on that problem. I’ll keep you updated if I’m able to.”
“Better than you have been, I hope. I don’t like finding out about werecreature territory fights months after they’ve been going on. Especially ones that involve god packs.”
“What makes you think I knew about that?”
