“You helpedthat undead fucker take over a Night Court?”
Gerard twisted around in the front passenger seat so he could glare at where Patrick sat in the back of the Mustang with Keith. Jono glanced at Patrick in the rearview mirror, the other man having crossed his arms defensively over his chest.
“I didn’t have a choice, okay?” Patrick said.
“There is always a choice with that asshole—you shoot him in the heart and cut off his head, or you set him on fire.”
Jono nodded agreement. “Yeah, mate. What Gerard said.”
Patrick glared at him. “I don’t know why I thought you two meeting would be a good idea.”
“Why? Because we won’t let you sod off and do something stupid?”
“We’re already doing something stupid by asking Lucien for help. I’m going to need a shower afterward to feel better about myself,” Keith said.
“I thought you lot fought with him in the Thirty-Day War?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we had tolikeit.”
“Lucien’s Night Court was an ally during the Thirty-Day War that everyone likes to forget about. Being an ally doesn’t mean we liked working with the asshole. The undead can’t feed off the dead, and that’s all the food they’d have left if the Dominion Sect succeeded in releasing the hells into our world. Demons don’t make good meals, so the mother of all vampires told her children to fight with us,” Patrick said.
Jono took a breath but couldn’t get a read on Patrick’s scent. He knew Ashanti was a sore subject for the other man, and Patrick’s guilt over her death had never left him.
“It’d be nice if the dead stayed dead,” Keith said wistfully.
“If that were the case, I might actually get a vacation.”
Jono turned down the street that Ginnungagap was located on, slowing his speed. Rather than park on the street, he drove into the alleyway next to the warehouse turned nightclub. A motorcycle was parked near the side-door entrance up ahead. Jono braked to a halt behind it and turned off the engine.
Everyone got out, the cold smacking Jono in the face. Gerard’s scowl hadn’t disappeared, and only got deeper when the side entrance opened soundlessly on oiled hinges. Carmen lounged in the doorway in her true form, the curled horns of her kind spiraling back over her skull. Her leather pants and jacket didn’t look warm enough for the weather, and Jono could smell the sexual desire emanating from her like perfume that all succubi exuded. It never did anything to him thanks to the buffer Fenrir provided, but he worried about the others.
“Carmen,” Gerard bit out.
“Captain,” Carmen practically purred. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but it’s not.”
Patrick made a face, gesturing at both Keith and Gerard with one hand, his fingertips glowing with magic. Jono stopped being able to smell everyone between one breath and the next. The only thing he got was the scent of garbage from the dumpster down the way.
“Cut it out, Carmen. Is he here?” Patrick said.
Carmen tilted her head to the side, her long black curls spilling over one slim shoulder. “My master will listen to what you have to say, but it will cost you.”
“We can pay it,” Jono said.
Tithes from packs were what kept god packs afloat, along with leases to housing and land that passed down from one set of alphas to another. Jono’s god pack was starting out with nothing, but Marek had already promised to bankroll their needs in conjunction with the tithes Emma’s Tempest pack would give them. As the creator and majority owner of the social media site PreterWorld, Marek had money to spare, and then some.
Carmen shoved the door open wider and sauntered into the depths of Ginnungagap. Gerard approached the entrance and stepped inside, his entire body tensing as he crossed over the threshold.
“Patrick,” Gerard ground out.
“Yeah, I know. It’s fucking weird, but it hasn’t hurt us so far,” Patrick said as he stepped inside.
Weird was an understatement. Stepping inside Ginnungagap always set Jono’s teeth on edge. Whatever lived in the walls of the space—primordial void or something worse—sometimes seemed as if it had a mind of its own. Even Fenrir’s presence in his soul wasn’t enough to kill all of Jono’s worry. How people danced the night away here was beyond him.
Once Jono entered the club, the city noise beyond the walls was muffled to a point even he had to strain to hear it. He blinked, eyes easily adjusting to the interior brightness.
Last time he’d been inside Ginnungagap, construction had still been ongoing. Now, the club was fully finished, and the area they entered was a dimly lit corridor that led to a couple of toilets. They walked single file down the corridor and came out into the rest of the club space.
With the lights on, Ginnungagap was thrown into high relief. A well-stocked bar lined the opposite wall, and the dance floor took up half the rear area, while lounges and low leather seats took up space with tables closer to the front of the building. The dance floor extended beneath the mezzanine where a small stage for DJs was built into the rear wall.
