“You need a fae to open the way, and they need to be of decent magical strength.”
“Does that mean you’re a mage like Patrick?” Wade asked.
Gerard shook his head. “No. We don’t classify our magic the way humans do. Besides, my magic is only good on the battlefield, and I don’t like to use it around civilians.”
“Smooth Dog didn’t come to the military through the Mage Corps,” Patrick said.
Gerard rolled his eyes at the nickname, but the smile on his face was fond. “Let’s move out.”
They trudged over to the left-hand staircase and maneuvered down the snowy steps to the lower terrace. The only sound around them was everyone’s feet crunching through snow and the distant hum of street traffic Jono could make out if he dialed his hearing up a little. He was on edge out in the open like this. It didn’t help that no one else was around. The only heartbeats Jono could hear came from their group.
They exited Bethesda Terrace for the path that led to Bow Bridge, a popular tourist spot for pictures. It used to be on Jono’s jogging path when he’d go for a run on his days off, but he still had bad memories about Central Park. He’d switched up his jogging to other parts of the city until the weather became too wet for a comfortable run.
Patrick adjusted his stride to fall back beside Jono, who was taking up the rear of their little group. Jono reached out to hold Patrick’s gloved hand.
“Okay with being out here?” Patrick asked.
“I’m all right, love,” Jono promised, wondering if some of his unease was coming through the soulbond.
“You know, you still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”
“I have you. I don’t need anything else.”
“Okay, see, you get me every day. That’s not special.”
“Beg to differ, mate.”
Patrick shook his head, but the smile he shot Jono told him the exasperation was feigned. “Seriously, what do you want?”
“Doesn’t matter. You can get me anything and I’ll like it. Didn’t have a proper Christmas for years before coming to New York.”
The old ache tied to memories of his family wasn’t as strong these days. Jono had grown up on a council estate in North London, but his family had wanted nothing to do with him since being infected by the werevirus from a bad blood transfusion after a car accident. No family and no pack meant the holidays were just another day until he’d immigrated to the States.
Emma and her pack had rekindled his love for Christmas, if only because it brought everyone together. This year was the first time Jono was spending it with someone he was starting to fall in love with. Patrick, for all his stubborn prickliness and hard edges, was someone Jono knew in his heart he could never let go of, soulbond or not.
“I’m shit at picking out gifts. Can’t you give me a hint?”
“Patrick got us socks one time,” Keith said from up ahead. “The entire team. Socks. You don’t want that, Jono.”
“You bitched about trench foot for so long I thought you would’ve appreciated the socks.”
The laughter from the group was almost loud enough to drown out the distant echo of a scream—almost, but not quite.
Jono’s head snapped back, and he blinked a drifting snowflake out of his eye. The clouds above seemed to get darker as he looked, appearing hazy from falling snow. The wind picked up, stronger and faster than before. Trees swayed around them from the force, snow falling off of branches and landing on the ground with dullwhumps.
“Something’s coming,” Jono said, tugging Patrick forward.
“I hear it, too,” Sage said grimly.
“Let’s go,” Gerard ordered.
“Which one of the damned things is it?” Patrick wanted to know as he yanked his hand out of Jono’s grip to keep his balance as he ran.
“They sound like the fae from the bar,” Jono said.
Patrick swore. “Fucking Sluagh. We need to cross Bow Bridge before they reach us. There’s no coverage there, and it goes over the Lake. None of us need to fall into water in the middle of a fight and get hypothermia.”
“This is a shitty Christmas vacation,” Keith said.
