Ahmed’s wary gaze flicked over to Patrick for a second before returning to Jono. “He’s not a werecreature.”
“We’re a tad unconventional.”
“If you want gossip, you won’t find it here. You’d have better luck ringing up your old crew for that.” Ahmed nodded at the windows. “They’re still about. The lot of them spend time at the Crossed Arms. I don’t see them much here.”
“They aren’t welcome?” Jono asked. That was a surprise, as Ahmed had been one of the few shop owners who had done business with Jono and his mates back then without hassling them.
Ahmed gave him a thin-lipped smile that looked forced. “London runs on crazy these days, mate. Especially amongst the werecreature community.”
Before Jono could question that remark, Wade’s loud cackle echoed through the air. Jono half turned, watching as Wade came into the kebab shop carrying a shopping bag bulging with crisps and biscuits. He held a familiar-looking box in one hand, using his other to pry a Jaffa Cake free of its plastic wrap and shove it into his mouth.
“Jono, these areamazing,” Wade got out around a mouthful of food. “I think I might like them better than Pop-Tarts.”
Patrick shook his head. “That’s a first.”
Wade dug out another Jaffa Cake and held it up for them to see. “Look! Chocolatey cake goodness.”
“We bought you ten kebabs for lunch.”
Wade beamed at them. “Don’t worry, I’m still hungry.”
“Chew with your mouth closed,” Sage said as she came inside.
“I am!”
“No, you aren’t,” Jono told him.
Wade shoved the Jaffa Cake into his mouth, staring past Jono. “Are those my gyros?”
Jono turned around again, eyeing the multiple takeaway bags the cook was setting on the counter for pickup. Then he noticed Ahmed had gone a little pale in the face, his gaze riveted on Wade.
“Ahmed?” Jono asked.
The djinn’s brown eyes flashed with an inner light—a hint of fire burning within his black pupils. “That one is—”
“Pack,” Sage interrupted calmly as she stepped up to the counter to retrieve the takeaway bags. “As am I.”
Ahmed blinked, and the fire in his eyes was gone, though the acrid scent that now surrounded him couldn’t be explained away by the cooking meat behind him. He stared at Jono in silence for a couple of seconds before shaking his head.
“Are they who the seer promised you?” Ahmed asked.
Jono thought about that night years ago when he and Marek had come here to discuss his future, and Marek had promised him a pack he’d never find in London.
“Yeah,” Jono said, refusing to lie about the people he cared about.
Ahmed nodded slowly. “Is the young one with you of his own free will?”
“Duh,” Wade muttered before digging out another Jaffa Cake.
Jono rolled his eyes and rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Cheers.”
He led the way out of the kebab shop. It might have been years since he’d walked these streets, but he knew where the Crossed Arms was. He’d drunk enough pints there to never be able to forget it.
“What now?” Sage asked as she passed Wade a bag of kebabs.
“We see who’s up for a chat,” Jono said.
6
