Patrick grimaced, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “I play it with gods. Humans are different.”
Nadine slanted him a look. “Easier to manipulate?”
“No.”
When it came down to it, humans were their own worst enemies and the monsters in the shadows no one ever saw until it was too late. For Patrick, gods were straightforward in their enmity and machinations and eternal grievances. Immortals never cared about mortal politics, only their own. Humanity lived to tear each other down, bury the bones, and rewrite history to suit their own needs.
“Harder to survive,” Patrick finally said, thinking of Ethan and Hannah, and the glass-sharp connection in his soul that tied him to his twin.
For the first time in months, he let himself think about the niece or nephew Hannah was carrying, the quiet horror of that nightmare washing over him.
They were thirty years old and Hannah had spent twenty-two of them as a prisoner beneath Ethan’s cruel desires. Chicago had been many things, but above all, it had been a further degradation of Hannah’s lack of agency and the right to her own body and soul. Ethan had stolen everything from her, but the fertility rite had added a new layer of horrific fuckery to his actions.
Patrick refused to think about who the father might be.
If he did, he might throw up in his rental, and he didn’t want to deal with the cleaning fee for that.
“All right.” Nadine sighed. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Secrets and lies it is,” Patrick said, wishing he were joking.
12
Jono lookedup from the electric kettle as Patrick came out of the bathroom Friday morning dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, scrubbing a hand through his damp hair.
“No suit today?” Jono asked.
Patrick scowled. “One of us needs to pick up Spencer from the airport. Nadine already has a working relationship with the WSA. She’s better suited at taking lead in that area than I am at the moment.”
“So you’re skiving off whilst she does all the work?”
Patrick smacked Jono on the ass as he went to grab his combat boots. “No. We’re going to drive around and see who comes out of the woodwork.”
The kettle clicked off. Jono picked it up to pour hot water into his mug. “That’s a waste of money on the congestion charge.”
“We’re billing the government.”
“You’re hunting for the auction location, is what you’re doing. Lucien said the spell on the invitation would show the address this weekend. What do you hope to find out there today?”
Patrick sat on the chair and shoved his feet into his combat boots. “I told you last night Cressida fucked Rossiter. If Cressida’s demon is also in contact with the Dominion Sect, then they’ll know we’re in London.”
“You want to play bait.”
“No.” At Jono’s disbelieving stare, Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yes. Nadine called while you were in the shower. The WSA thinks they got a hit on Rossiter on the CCTV in Tottenham. I want to case the area, see if I can’t track him with my magic.”
Jono carefully set his mug down on the glass table. “Tottenham.”
Patrick’s gaze softened a little. He finished lacing up his boots before getting to his feet and closing the distance between them. Jono tilted his head down to look him in the eye.
“I can take Sage with me, if you want,” Patrick said quietly. “You don’t have to come.”
“I’m not letting either of you go there without me. You both stand out too much.”
“So will you. Just because we’re in London doesn’t mean you need to go everywhere with us. I told her if you didn’t want to come you could take Wade to do some more touristy shit. He was saying something about the Victoria and Albert Museum last night.”
“They’ve a jewelry gallery,” Jono said absently, staring past Patrick. “He probably wants to nick some.”
Cool hands framed his face, Patrick’s thumbs bracketing his mouth. Jono blinked, refocusing on him. This close and Jono could see the freckles scattered over Patrick’s nose and cheeks, darker lately from summer sunlight and long hours working cases in the field.
