Patrick figured that was why the Wild Hunt had fled the bar when Gerard confronted them at the beginning of the month. They must have known who Gerard truly was, and crossing an immortal was always a risk.
That whole fight seemed like it had happened only several days ago, but with the lost time they’d experienced past the veil, it was actually longer. He rubbed at his forehead. Going past the veil was worse than going past the International Date Line in terms of a body’s circadian rhythm getting all fucked up.
“You sure you don’t want our pack to go with you?” Marek asked, glancing at Patrick in the rearview mirror.
“We need you here for backup just in case,” Patrick said. “Unless you’ve seen something?”
“No. You’re still too close to whatever is going to happen, and the Norns can’t see an end to it.”
“That sucks,” Wade said, chewing on a Pop-Tart.
“Can’t say I enjoy the migraines my visions give me, but I wish I could be of more help.”
“You’ve done enough. Paid quite a bit for what we needed today,” Jono said.
“Guess it’s a good thing I set up the offshore accounts all those years ago. The Norns never told me why, they just told me to do it.”
Patrick snorted. “Gods never like giving straight answers.”
Marek’s smile in the rearview mirror held no humor. “Tell me about it.”
The rest of the drive to Central Park was made in silence save for the quiet munching coming from Wade as he ate three packs of Pop-Tarts in a row.
“You’re eating through all your snacks,” Sage said.
“I’m hungry,” Wade muttered.
“You had breakfast and lunch.”
“Yeah, but…Pop-Tarts.”
“If you eat another fae offering past the veil, you’re grounded until next year,” Jono said.
Wade shrugged. “Eh, not too bad.”
“He never said until when next year,” Sage said, raising an eyebrow at Wade.
He narrowed his eyes and shoved the last piece of brown sugar Pop-Tart into his mouth. “That’s not fair.”
“They’re your alphas. Fair is what they decide.”
Wade crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.
Early Friday afternoon traffic wasn’t all that bad. Most people were at work or safe behind thresholds at home. Despite the approaching holidays and countless decorations, the city didn’t have an air of festiveness to it.
“It’s snowing,” Marek said some time later when he turned left onto East Sixty-Sixth Street.
Patrick leaned against Sage so he could peer between the front seats at the snow drifting lightly onto the windshield. “Shit.”
“Which one do you think is up there?” Jono asked, peering up at the sky. “Sluagh or the Wild Hunt?”
“Who the fuck knows, but let’s hurry this up so Emma’s pack can get home safely.”
Marek sped up a little, aiming for Central Park. They crossed Fifth Avenue a couple of blocks later and drove onto the Sixty-Fifth Street Transverse, passing the stone wall boundaries of Central Park.
Snow-covered lawn and barren trees greeted them again as they followed the curve of the road. The stone walls on either side of them blocked much of the view, and Marek only stopped when they reached a point where the walls were low enough that they could be climbed.
Marek yanked up the emergency brake and put on the hazard lights. “Good luck.”
