“We’ll see if they accept it or turn to Estelle and Youssef.”
“If they came to you, I doubt they’ll run to those two.”
“Maybe. I think they’re mine,” Jono said slowly. “I think when I gave the order for Nicholas to change form in the challenge ring, those two alphas shifted as well. So maybe they’ll abide.”
“Yours, huh?” He hadn’t been present that day in August when Jono had left to meet with the god pack alphas and came back having claimed Sage as part of their pack. He couldn’t say he minded the results. “Then maybe you’re right and they will listen.”
Jono shrugged, getting to his feet. “What was your call about?”
Patrick sighed. “I have a case. I need to go interview someone.”
“Right now? In this weather? Please tell me it’s not those bloody water bastards again.”
“The kappas? Nah, that case finished today. Something different. There’s a missing child.”
“If you’re this busy when Gerard gets here, I don’t know when you’ll have the time to see him.”
“I’ll make time.” Patrick smiled crookedly. “I have to, remember?”
Captain Gerard Breckenridge was Patrick’s former commanding officer and leader of the Hellraisers, Patrick’s old Special Forces team. It’d been over three years since Patrick last wore the Mage Corps uniform, but Gerard would never hold that against him.
Gerard and a couple other teammates Patrick had fought with were taking a few days out of their leave to come to New York. Part of that reason was to make good on a promise to have Patrick buy them all drinks and to check up on him. Mostly, they were coming to meet with him about the off-the-record mission General Noah Reed had assigned all of them. The three-star Army general—who was a fire dragon in human form—hadn’t let Patrick’s lack of uniform stop him from handing out orders and expecting to be obeyed.
The Morrígan’s staff, once thought locked away in the United States’ Repository in Area 51, had gone missing during the Thirty-Day War three and a half years ago—or so that was what Odin’s ravens had led Patrick to believe. While gods were known to lie, Patrick knew in his gut they weren’t lying about this.
An audit on the staff after Patrick’s meeting with Reed in August proved it was missing. No one knew who had it. No one knew for certain who had stolen it in the first place, though most laid the blame on Ethan Greene and the Dominion Sect. Ethan’s quest to claim a godhead had nearly destroyed Manhattan back in summer. His desire for power was a dangerous thing that Patrick was intimately familiar with.
All anyone knew was that the staff—and whatever magic a war goddess had bestowed upon it—could not end up in Ethan Greene’s hands.
The Hellraisers had been tasked with finding the weapon, as had Special Agent Nadine Mulroney and several other small groups of federal agents within the Preternatural Intelligence Agency. Patrick’s best friend had been read in on the mission before he had because Nadine was PIA.
Patrick didn’t blame General Reed for keeping the SOA out of the loop despite equal control of the Repository shared between the two agencies and branch of military. SOA Director Setsuna Abuku was still trying to clean house at their agency.
At the end of the day, Ethan was his father, and Patrick had a soul debt owned by a different goddess that said this was his problem above all others who might lay claim to it.
Patrick was looking forward to seeing his old team again, he only wished it was under better circumstances.
“If you gotta leave, can I have the rest of your pizza?” Wade asked. “I’m hungry.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “You’re always hungry.”
Jono leaned down to kiss him, lips dry and warm against his own. “I’ll wait up for you.”
“I don’t know how long this interview will take.”
“Like I said.” Jono nipped at his mouth, sending a shiver down Patrick’s spine. “I’ll wait up.”
After months of coming home to Jono, it still felt like a revelation some days. Despite the soulbond tying them together, Patrick was learning to believe that Jono stayed not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
“See you later,” Patrick said.
He left the apartment, only pausing long enough to retrieve his umbrella from the bin on the landing where they stored them. Walking down the stairs, Patrick headed back into the storm.
2
The Upper East Sidemansion Patrick found himself standing in front of in the downpour was guarded by gargoyles that moved over the façade of the building in a menacing manner. Patrick ignored the stone creatures and rang the doorbell again, counting the seconds between the flash of lightning in the sky and the thunder that inevitably followed.
The winter storm churning right on top of Manhattan came with a cold viciousness he would appreciate better if he were home. Even with his umbrella, shields, and heat charm filling his leather jacket, Patrick was still cold. He pressed the doorbell button again, unable to hear the sound through the silence ward sunk into the home’s threshold.
