“Is that what we’re calling you now?” Keith asked, the bitterness in his voice seeping through his scent.
Gerard stared at him, brow furrowing. “Keith. I’m still who I said I was.”
“If you think you can order me to shut up about this, then you’re wrong. The rest of the team deserves to know, right, Patrick?”
Patrick’s shoulders tightened beneath Jono’s arm. “I’m not talking about this right now.”
“But you—”
“I said I’m not fucking talking about it!” Patrick yelled.
His voice echoed in the cold night air, the silence that followed tense and smelling of bitter anger to Jono’s nose. Gerard’s mouth was pressed into a tight line, eyes on Patrick, who wouldn’t look at him. Jono gently ran his hand up and down what he could reach of Patrick’s upper arm.
“Let’s get somewhere warm and get you seen to, yeah?” Jono said to him.
“I’ll call Victoria and see if she’s available,” Sage said.
“I’ve got a med-kit back home. I’ll deal with my wounds there,” Patrick told her.
“Patrick—”
“Go home, Sage. Take Wade with you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Patrick,” Gerard said, stepping closer.
Patrick shrugged out from beneath Jono’s arm and deliberately turned his back on Gerard, walking away from them all. Jono watched him go for a second before looking over at Sage.
“Send Victoria to our flat if she’s available,” Jono said.
Sage nodded. “Will do.”
“Here,” Wade said, holding out Patrick’s dagger. “He should probably take this back.”
Jono accepted the weapon, wondering why Wade had it in the first place, but wasn’t going to waste time asking. Instead, Jono went after Patrick, the other man using the flashlight on his mobile to light the way rather than magic. That told Jono more than anything else Patrick wasn’t in the right headspace after what he’d gone through.
Jono reached for Patrick’s hand and gently took it, mindful of the injuries on his wrist and forearm. He could smell blood and the particular scent of burnt flesh that made him absolutely furious. Fenrir had been willing to reveal himself to Brigid, but not to Medb, no matter how loudly Jono had argued in that dark throne room.
He took a deep breath, evening out his senses but keeping them dialed high. Who knew what was riding through the clouds above them as they walked through Central Park at night. Jono wasn’t about to leave Patrick unguarded.
“I have your dagger,” Jono said.
Patrick nodded, stopping only long enough for Jono to slip the weapon back into its sheath on his right thigh before starting down the path again.
Patrick’s flashlight absolutely ruined Jono’s night vision, but he compensated just fine. He got them out of Central Park by way of Bow Bridge and the snowy paths that put them out onto Central Park West via Terrace Drive.
The traffic on the snow-plowed streets wasn’t as heavy as Jono was used to at this time of night. A passing bus was half as full as it normally would be, and he frowned as he noticed they seemed to be the only pedestrians on the street. New York was the city that never slept, but it seemed downright comatose right now.
Patrick already had his mobile in hand, ride-share app open and route selected. A few minutes later a car pulled up, and Jono kept his too-distinctive eyes averted and half-closed until they were in the back seat. He made sure to sit behind the driver, knowing most people didn’t care for a god pack werewolf in such close proximity.
“Didn’t think I’d get any rides tonight,” the driver said as he pulled into the street. “Curfew has been bad for business.”
“Curfew?” Patrick asked.
“You a tourist or something? Must be if you’re out at night. The fae keep snatching people off the street. Whole city isn’t supposed to be outside after dark, but this is New York. Gotta hustle for that cash, and no curfew is gonna stop us.”
Patrick glanced at Jono, expression unreadable. “They never stopped hunting.”
“Can’t worry about that right now,” Jono said.
