Patrick twisted around in his seat, rolling down the window so he could stick his head out and get eyes on the horizon. The Eiffel Tower rose in the sky behind them, painted a sickly, familiar ochre color that made cold sweat break out on his skin.
“Fuck. We need to regroup. Head back to Nadine’s apartment. INTERPOL got a hit on Zachary Myers last night. He’s in Paris.”
“Ethan?”
“No hits, but we can’t rule out his presence.”
Before Patrick could say anything else, they reached the other side of the bridge right as the magic surrounding the Eiffel Tower pulsed like a heartbeat before exploding outward.
Nadine’s fingers curled over the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him back into the car. He almost cracked his head against the edge of the door, and then Patrick was back inside and Nadine’s shield snapped into place around the vehicle.
The wave of magic rolled right over them, sending water from the Seine splashing into the air, curling over the edges of the high walls. The car’s engine sputtered and abruptly died. Nadine swore as she slammed on the brakes, expanding her shield outside the frame of the car. The vehicle behind them slammed into her shield rather than the backend of her car.
Patrick stared at his phone and the blank screen it now showed. He tested the power button, but when nothing happened, he opened up the glove compartment, took out the Browning, and left his phone in its spot.
“Phone lines are dead,” he said, checking the gun for bullets.
“Going to bet everything electronic in Paris is down. Fucking magical EMP strike. That’s a military-grade combat spell, something Ilya doesn’t have an affinity for,” Nadine said, shoving open her door. She kicked off her high heels and got out of the car.
“Zachary does.”
“Give me my fucking gun.”
Patrick made sure the safety was on before tossing it to her over the roof. “Is it even legal for you to carry it?”
Nadine dislodged the clip and checked how many bullets she had, before slamming it back into place. “It is now.”
“Next time Setsuna sends me out of the country, I’m bringing my tactical pistol.”
Nadine took her keys, pried a knife out of her purse, and left everything else in the car. She used the knife to rip slits in her sheath dress on either side of her legs, giving herself more freedom of movement.
Patrick squinted at the Eiffel Tower in the distance and the malevolent magic burning over it, trying to ignore the sick churning in his stomach. “I told Jono to meet us at your apartment.”
“Then we’ll go there and regroup. We can’t fight in business casual, and I have weapons you can borrow.”
“How far do we have to run?’
“If we double-time it and don’t get waylaid? Maybe fifteen minutes.”
Patrick shrugged out of his suit jacket and undid his tie, leaving both on the front passenger seat before slamming the door shut. “Then let’s go.”
Nadine tossed the knife on the seat, shut the door, and set a ward that would keep the vehicle locked and safe against trespassers. Then they ran, ignoring everyone on the street getting out of their cars or trying to get the vehicles to start. They passed a couple of minor fender benders on the way, but no one seemed hurt.
They dodged around people milling about in the street. More people streamed out of the Grand Palais and Petit Palais on either side of them as they ran.
“How are your feet?” Patrick asked, because the asphalt had to be hot underfoot.
“I have my skin shielded. Keep running,” Nadine huffed out.
They reached the Avenue des Champs-Élysées a minute later, the traffic there at a standstill like it was behind them. People stood near cars that wouldn’t start, kept gesturing with phones that wouldn’t turn on, the agitation in the air clawing at Patrick’s nerves.
They dodged between people and cars, the buzz of frantic, worried voices drifting on the breeze. The soulbond tugged sharply in his chest, and he looked to the left, the Arc de Triomphe a distant stone arch against the blue sky. The knowledge that Jono was close by would’ve made Patrick breathe easier if he had any room to spare in his lungs.
They crossed the wide avenue in a handful of seconds, racing down the street ahead. The open grass on the right gave way to low stone walls with iron fencing on top. Buildings on the left were dark, no lights shining through their windows. People were annoyingly in the way, which was a problem, and then became aproblemwhen hellish recognition ripped through Patrick’s magic.
Screams echoed from the other side of the wall.
Not all of the noise was human.
