Patrick kept stubbornly silent at that remark. Gael studied him in a way Patrick disliked, but he refused to break eye contact.
“If I’m to help throw up distractions with our allies so we can claim whatever it is you’re after at the auction, I need information,” Gael said evenly.
“So do we, and that’s why we’re here. Mulroney asked for a status update on the London god pack. Do you have it or not?”
Gael glanced from Patrick to Nadine. “It was an odd request, considering they haven’t been flagged as a problem.”
“Did you find anything?” Nadine asked.
Gael picked up a sleek briefcase from the floor near his feet and set it on the table. He withdrew a folder from within and flipped it open, passing over a copy of a photograph. Patrick took it with a cold knot in his stomach.
The picture was taken with a long lens, blown up and pixelated at the edges, but the two people fucking in the apartment bed were still identifiable. Cressida’s profile was familiar as she rode Dillon Rossiter, who looked like he was enjoying himself as much as she was despite the blood streaked between them.
“Did they murder someone, or is that just how they like sex?” Patrick asked.
“Dublin has quite a few unsolved missing person cases. If there was a body, it was disposed of.” Gael shook his head. “I had an analyst do a review of case files the PIA has handled in the last five years for the werecreature communities in the British Isles and that came up. Offshoot evidence of a potions trafficking ring, but no evidence stuck to them.”
“Rossiter is fae. He’d claim diplomatic immunity, no matter how thin his blood ties.”
“Cressida Moore can’t.” Gael glanced at Nadine, raising an eyebrow. “You wanted to know if the London god pack was up to anything beyond the usual. Her ties to Rossiter could become a problem with the upcoming auction. I’m curious what made you ask in the first place.”
“Our CI wanted assurances they wouldn’t be hassled while in London,” Patrick answered before Nadine could. “They’ve had run-ins with the New York City god pack and didn’t want the same kind of problems here.”
More like Lucien had torn up all bargains and treaties when he took over the Manhattan Night Court. These days, the rest of the Night Courts in the five boroughs toed his line while Estelle and Youssef’s god pack had lost territory on all fronts. Lucien wasn’t a good neighbor unless people wanted a war. In which case, he’d happily bring it to their doorsteps.
“You can tell your CI that Cressida has previous ties to the auctioneer. Whether or not those ties are still viable is inconclusive at this time, but I’d counsel toward yes.”
“Thank you,” Nadine said. “Do you have anything else for us?”
“No.” Gael retrieved the photograph and called up a spark of fire with his magic to burn it to ash. Patrick hoped it wouldn’t set off the sprinklers. “I’ll do what Director Franklin wants, but if you require backup, reach out. I’m sure you can always use an extra set of hands and some decent magic, Mulroney.”
Patrick ignored the veiled insult to his diminished magic and rank, used to the subtle disdain that colored his professional interactions.
“If those in charge clear you, sure,” Patrick replied lightly with a sharp smile.
The PIA wasn’t his agency, and he was playing nice for Nadine’s sake. But Patrick’s instructions came from the SOA as much as the gods, and Gael wasn’t close to the clearance level needed for him to be read in on the nitty-gritty details of the hunt for the Morrígan’s staff. Reed had been firm regarding the restrictions surrounding the joint task force. Not everyone was permitted to know everything surrounding the Morrígan’s staff. That Gael kept pushing to know made Patrick want to deny him even the most mundane detail.
“Thank you for the update,” Nadine said as she stood.
“The WSA won’t like being lied to. I hope this mission is worth the fallout,” Gael said.
Considering the only option was the world getting turned into a hell, Patrick thought the exchange was worth it even if politicians and the intelligence communities never would.
Gael got to his feet and shook their hands. He didn’t offer to show them out. “Don’t forget that we’re all in this together.”
“Some more than others,” Patrick replied before heading for the doorway that led back to the Reception Room.
Nadine followed a few seconds later, and neither of them spoke until they were back in the car and driving away from Winfield House.
“One of these days you’ll need to remember not everyone is the enemy,” Nadine said when they were stopped at a red light on their way to the WSA headquarters.
“I have scars that prove practically everyone is,” Patrick retorted, watching as a handful of people crossed the road ahead of them in the crosswalk.
“You have a reputation. It’s not always good.”
“I don’t care.”
“Sometimes you need to if only so we get what we want. Grease the wheels. You know how this game is played.”
