“She’s outside with the others,” Brynhildr said.
Wade nearly tipped out of his seat in his hurry, snatching up another handful of meat and bread to carry with him outside.
“We’re going to need to check his flat for a motorcycle after this trip,” Jono said.
“He doesn’t even know how to drive,” Patrick muttered.
“That’s not likely to stop him.”
Brynhildr and Eir came over to the table. Patrick eyed Eir, who bypassed an empty seat to approach him. She reached for him, her hand hovering over his head. “May I?”
Patrick knew better than to accept help from gods, but the general grossness he felt at the moment from being hungover was enough to get him to cave. “Yeah. Have at it.”
She brushed her fingers over his forehead, and a cool wave of magic washed through him. It dragged away his headache and lingering traces of nausea, took away the foul taste still coming up on his tongue from too much whiskey.
Patrick straightened up, feeling mostly human again. “Thanks.”
“We need you in one piece,” Eir said.
Patrick was never surprised by that answer. Jono shoved his plate over to Patrick and pointed at it. “Eat.”
“Any news, Brynhildr?” Frigg asked.
The valkyrie dipped her head out of respect to the other goddess. “Nothing worthwhile, my lady. We believe Hades is helping to keep the enemy hidden from us, along with Odin, and the veil is thick in this city.”
“Hades will die by my hand if need be,” Thor said as he stood from the table.
“Persephone might beat you to it.” Patrick paused before shaking his head. “Or she’ll kill you.”
Thor’s smile was condescending. “I will welcome her attempts if she tries, for she will not win that fight.”
Patrick wasn’t so sure, but it wasn’t worth arguing over. He pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. He grabbed the slice of bread with meat and cheese on it from Jono’s plate and folded it in half. “I need to get going. I’ll let you know if the dead have anything useful to say. Maybe see if you can’t find Freyr and get any answers out of him.”
Jono followed him out of the bar back into the snow. Wade was crouched between two motorcycles, petting the seats under the watchful eyes of a couple more valkyries.
“Let’s go, Wade,” Patrick called out.
Wade craned his head around to look at them. “Wow. You no longer smell like a distillery.”
“Funny. Get in the car. I’m dropping you both off at the hotel.”
Jono shook his head. “Drop us off at a coffee shop near your work.”
“You’ll be more comfortable at the hotel than in a coffee shop. I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
“Yeah, and you might need us. We’ll stick close by. It’ll be cheaper to feed Wade at a restaurant rather than through room service or the minibar.”
Patrick shrugged. “If you say so. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“It doesn’t matter. The hotel is too far away if something goes wrong.”
“It might not be.”
Jono smiled tightly. “Best not tempt fate.”
Patrick would rather shoot the Fates, but he knew bullets couldn’t kill a god.
* * *
