They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive to Farningham, a village off the A20 surrounded by dark pastures. Patrick studied the map on his phone, noting the tiny nature reserve that buttressed the village.
“Nice place to bury some bodies,” Patrick mused.
Jono hummed thoughtfully at that. “Where?”
“The nearby group of trees by the property.”
“Yeah. The god pack owns it.”
“Is that where the challenge ring is?”
“No. It’s in the field before the reserve.”
“How many bodies are buried in the fields?” Sage asked.
Jono was silent for another mile before he answered. “The London god pack has owned that land for decades.”
Patrick leaned his head back and grimaced, wondering how many graves they’d be walking over tonight. In the States, god packs could legally kill each other inside the challenge ring. He knew from Jono they could do the same in the United Kingdom. Legal murder was never a good look for any community, but sometimes it was the only way for werecreatures to handle their issues and differences.
That didn’t mean he liked the thought of Sage stepping into the challenge ring.
Bryson’s car eventually pulled off the highway onto a less busy road. They followed him down the road, across an overpass, to a three-story country house that had seen better days. It wasn’t on par with any of the estates the peerage would own despite the land it sat on, but it was bigger than any other house they’d passed by.
A lot of cars were already parked in the driveway, forcing them to park closer to the road than the house after Bryson braked to a stop. They got out, the breeze warm despite the late hour. Patrick kept his leather jacket on, flexing his fingers. The urge to call up his magic was difficult to push aside.
“Jono, are you sure about this?” Bryson asked as they approached him.
Wade snorted scornfully. “You’re the enemy. Aren’t you supposed to not talk us out of a fight?”
Bryson ignored him, focusing only on Jono with a habit Patrick wanted him to break, preferably yesterday. “I don’t want to see you end up dead, mate.”
“That’s not going to happen. Lead on, yeah? We’ve a challenge to win,” Jono said.
Bryson glanced at Sage before shaking his head. “Right, then. This way.”
He didn’t lead them into the house, but around it, cutting between the main building and the detached garage. Patrick couldn’t see all that well in the dark, unlike the others, and wasn’t willing to cast some witchlights. He hoped everyone continued thinking he didn’t have magic, or if they believed he did, that he was a low-level magic user.
Maybe the gods of luck were on their side this time.
Then they cleared the buildings and came upon the crowd of werecreatures milling around a large circular space made up of flagstones pressed into the ground. Tiki torches shoved into the dirt were lit, providing flickering illumination that was more than enough light for everyone to see by. He sighed irritably.
Scratch that. The gods of luck were definitely not on their side tonight.
“Someone clearly doesn’t have a need for speed,” Patrick muttered as he attempted to count how many people were in the audience. “Did you do a mass group text and threaten murder if anyone was late to get them out of London and here tonight before we arrived?”
“This isn’t everyone,” Bryson retorted.
“This is enough,” Sage said calmly as they approached the challenge ring. “You have your witnesses, and I have mine.”
As they drew closer, the London god pack shifted, drawing back until they were grouped around half the challenge ring. Bryson went to join his pack, lines clearly drawn. Patrick, Jono and Wade spaced themselves along the curved stone, not needing to fight for elbow space. Sage had left her purse in the car, but had kept her shoes on. Her high heels clacked sharply against the flagstones as she stepped over the raised edge and into the challenge ring.
Patrick clenched his hands into fists and bit his tongue so he didn’t argue about taking her spot. He’d seen the end results of some challenges over the years—messy, bloody, with bodies usually in pieces no matter if they were human or animal—but he wasn’t familiar with the traditions surrounding how they started. The underlying rules were the same, but how god packs executed their law varied by country.
Devin was already standing inside the challenge ring, barefoot and stripped down to his jeans. He was joking with a few other pack members standing beyond the flagstones, laughing and shoving each other in mirth. When he finally turned to face them, his sharp teeth were a line of bright white against his black skin.
Behind him, Cressida stood on the slightly raised stone barrier, the height of it making her almost even with Finely. Her skintight white jeans came to a stop above the top of her rose-gold strappy heels. The feel of hell scraped against Patrick’s soul and magic as he stared at her and whatever demon rode her soul.
Cressida had one hand cocked on her hip, chin raised high, blue eyes reflecting the light in flashes. It was strange being surrounded by people with eyes like Jono. Most god packs in the United States had bright amber-colored eyes, and Patrick had gotten used to seeing that coloring in a person’s face.
