Rami found a different spot along the wall to stand guard, keeping both his alphas within reach. The handful of other god pack members tasked to protect them didn’t move.
“So you are confirming you’ve given up parts of your Paris territory to the enemy.”
Sage’s calm words made both Gaspard and Mireille bristle.
“We admit no such thing,” Mireille snapped.
Jono stared them down. “You’ve known about the missing and the murdered and haven’t ventured into the Catacombs to fight to get them back. Sounds to me like you gave up territory.”
Gaspard set his wineglass on the table so he wouldn’t break it, anger suffusing his scent. “You don’t know anything about our situation. The French government doesn’t care about dead werecreatures. Trying to search for them only resulted in more of us dying.”
“They’re going to care about deadpeopleat some point today if the Orthodox Church of the Dead manages to resurrect every last body buried in Paris.”
Mireille sniffed derisively. “That is an impossible feat.”
“Ilya Nazarov is a necromancer who worships a god that guides souls. He has a weapon now that will only amplify his power. The dead won’t carewhatyou are when they rise. They’ll still try to kill you for their master.”
“Gods don’t exist,” Gaspard said.
Jono glanced at Sage, but neither said anything to that statement. Belief was subjective, and it was an argument they didn’t have time for today.
“Magic does, and Ilya’s kind will decimate Paris. You should warn your packs to be on alert.”
“We believe the Dominion Sect is also involved. We’re not sure if they’re allied with Ilya’s church, but they’re both a threat. If you have any alliances with magic users, you may want to warn them as well,” Sage said.
Gaspard and Mireille shared an unreadable look. Eventually Gaspard blew out a heavy breath and sat on the chair beside hers.
“You are not what we expected from the English,” Gaspard said.
Jono frowned. “I’m not—”
“You are New York City’s god pack alpha,oui, we know. We see that now. We hear your warnings as well.” Gaspard looked over his shoulder at one of the god pack members standing near the door. “Maxime. Is Helene working today?”
The man nodded and said something in French Jono couldn’t follow.
Gaspard faced forward again, meeting Jono’s gaze. “Helene is Maxime’s wife. She is a policewoman and will be on duty at the Arc de Triomphe today. She can tell you some of what they know is going on in the streets.”
“Patrick has been dealing with your government already. He’s with them right now,” Jono said.
Mireille shrugged. “Politicians do not like disclosing the truth, and bureaucracy means nothing will get done quickly. The police are the eyes and ears of Paris. They may not be kind to our community, but they know and understand the threats better than politicians in their gilded seats.”
Sage slipped her mobile out of her purse and checked the time. “At this hour, the tourists will be out in force. We should get going. It’ll take time for a taxi to get here.”
“Maxime can drive you. It will be quicker,” Gaspard said.
“Thank you.”
Jono didn’t say anything, too annoyed with the Paris god pack to mean any thanks he’d give them. Noon was behind them, and Jono had been up for over twenty-four hours at this rate. He wasn’t capable of patience right now.
Jono and Sage followed Maxime out of the building to his car parked on the street. The sun was bright in a clear blue sky, morning heat filling the air. He wondered if Patrick and Nadine were making better progress than they were.
The drive to the Arc de Triomphe was made in silence. Sage spent that time on her mobile, relaying what they’d learned to the rest of the pack.
“Wade is asking if he can leave for lunch,” Sage said.
“He’s not allowed to leave until we get back to the flat,” Jono said, staring out the window at the passing buildings.
They’d left Wade and Spencer in Nadine’s flat because no one was getting left alone today. Between everything that needed to get done, Jono felt incredibly shorthanded and outnumbered.
