Above them, a murder of crows and an unkindness of ravens blotted out the vastness of the Eiffel Tower against the starry sky, their grievance echoing like bells at the midnight hour, calling an end to summer solstice.
War does not rest.
And oh, how she was fury born.
28
Jono scrubbeda hand over his face and sighed, staring tiredly at the electric kettle and willing the water to boil faster. The power in the 8th arrondissement had finally been turned back on, and he’d been dying for a cuppa for days already. He pressed a hand to his chest, absently drumming his fingers against his collarbone. Three days since summer solstice and everything was still a bloody mess, but at least Nadine had tea.
Despite it being Sunday, Patrick and Nadine were meeting with the French government alongside several senior PIA agents and the United States Ambassador to France. To say what had happened in Paris was an international shitstorm was putting it mildly.
The PIA’s warnings to their counterpart were seen as too little too late in the aftermath. France had known about Ilya and the Orthodox Church of the Dead being in Paris. What they hadn’t known about was the dangerous artifact the United States had refused to warn them about. Keeping the Morrígan’s staff a secret was still a priority, but it made placating allies difficult when governments refused to be honest with each other.
All Jono cared about was that his passport wasn’t flagged and he’d still be able to fly home tomorrow with Sage and Wade. Patrick, unfortunately, was still required in Paris for political reasons. He’d been the one to break the spell, and French officials were alternating between being grateful and being angry.
If Jono could carry Patrick onto the plane home, he would.
“Is that coffee?” Spencer asked as he stumbled blearily into the kitchen. “Please tell me it’s coffee.”
“Sorry, mate. Just tea. I can make you a cuppa if you like,” Jono said.
Spencer groaned and set about digging through Nadine’s cupboards. “Urgh. You Brits and your tea.”
Jono didn’t take offense, having come to the conclusion that Spencer lacked coherency until he’d drunk at least half a pot of coffee after waking up. Spencer still managed to get his coffee brewed even with his eyes half-closed.
The kettle started to bubble and steam in earnest. When it clicked off, Jono poured the hot water into his mug and let it steep for a few minutes, watching Spencer stumble about the kitchen and holding up all sorts of different food for Fatima to choose from after the psychopomp strolled in and started yowling. She eventually decided on half a stale loaf of bread, running out of the kitchen with it in her mouth.
“You know she’s going to get crumbs everywhere, right?” Jono said.
Spencer let the kitchen island hold up his weight as he drank his coffee. “Nadine won’t mind.”
Jono very much doubted that. “When do you leave?”
“Tonight. Director Franklin wants me back in DC for debriefing tomorrow.”
“But not Patrick?”
Spencer shrugged. “French officials are apparently making noise about our government bringing me into their country without approval. Franklin wants me back before they try to arrest me.”
Jono stared at him through the steam of his tea. “You and your magic were the main bloody reason we got to the Eiffel Tower in time to stop Ilya.”
“True. Which is probably why the French government didn’t arrest me once they found out about my magic. Necromancy is illegal for a reason, as you just experienced.”
“You aren’t a necromancer.”
“Close enough by most legal standards.”
Jono took a sip of his tea and grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Eh, could be worse. I could’ve been born anactualnecromancer and been put to death as soon as my magic manifested itself.”
Spencer spoke about being executed the way some people spoke about what they might order for dinner—musing and unconcerned in a way.
“Thanks for coming when Patrick asked.”
Spencer looked at him from across the kitchen island, blue eyes clear and sharp when a moment ago he’d seemed half-asleep. “Patrick’s my friend. I might not have been a Hellraiser, but I still fought with him when our missions crossed, and he’s one of the few people who didn’t flinch when he first met me. Having magic like mine doesn’t earn me many friends. I like to keep the ones I got.”
“Smart.”
