“Dublin?” Patrick asked, sounding surprised. “She’s not with you?”
“Cernunnos asked for her aid in a rite during Beltane. She opted to stay through summer.”
Patrick’s mouth twisted. “Is she preparing for your return?”
Gerard sighed. “Something like that.”
Gerard wasn’t his real name. As the immortal Cú Chulainn, he lived under a human alias far from Ireland’s shores. He’d made a promise to the Cailleach Bheur to return to his ancestral home once the Morrígan’s staff was found and bring with him the prayers and stories that sustained him. The fae hoped he could spearhead their resurgence, but Patrick knew Gerard only hoped to keep their memory alive in these modern times.
Some days, that was all you could do.
“If I have to fly to Dublin, we have time. The auction is scheduled to take place Sunday.”
“I’ll call Órlaith and tell her to reach out to you.”
“Thanks.”
“Stay safe. Stab Lucien in the back for me.”
“I’d do it for myself first.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Gerard ended the call, and Patrick shoved his phone into his pocket. “Now we wait.”
“I like his idea,” Jono said.
“Having Órlaith call us rather than go through him?”
“No. Stab Lucien.”
Patrick laughed, allowing himself to be reeled in for a kiss. Jono tasted like the beer he must have been drinking before Patrick arrived. When they broke apart, Jono reached up to press his wrist against Patrick’s throat, rubbing their pack scent into his skin.
“Did the WSA ask about me?” Jono wanted to know.
“Unfortunately, yeah. They got your identity off the CCTV, but Nadine made it seem like you were our criminal informant we brought along, which was why we were together.”
“Can’t be much of an informant if I’ve been gone for years.”
“That’s what Albert said. It’s still the story we’re sticking to.”
Jono nodded. “All right.”
Wade leaned into the room, holding himself up by gripping the doorframe. “Room service is here. Come quick or I’m eating your dinner.”
He disappeared, but Patrick knew that wasn’t an idle threat. Patrick slipped his hand into Jono’s. “Let’s go eat.”
A quiet dinner in was something they all needed. Patrick had a feeling the weekend wasn’t going to be easy.
14
The Embassyof the Seelie Court was located across from Kensington Gardens, near the Lancaster Gate Underground Station. On a dreary Saturday morning, Patrick opted to take the Underground rather than drive, leaving the car behind for Jono’s use if he needed it.
Hiding his presence on a semi-crowded train was easier than weaving through traffic. The werecreatures Cressida had parked outside their hotel hadn’t been aware of his departure, but they would’ve been if he’d had to wait for the valet to bring the car around. If anyone had managed to follow him, Patrick hoped he’d lost them in Oxford Circus.
Still, Patrick was on high alert as the train rattled toward its destination, the automated computer announcing “The next station is Lancaster Gate. This is a Central Line train to Ealing Broadway via Nottingham Hill Gate.”
The train rolled into the station with a squeal of brakes and the echoing rumble of the engine, the Underground’s ancient protective wards flashing at the corners of Patrick’s eyes through the windows. Patrick stood, grabbing hold of the railing overhead as he swayed with the motion of the train car. It braked to a stop, and the doors opened. He exited with everyone else, following the weekend summer crowd to the elevators that were the only way out if one didn’t want to ascend twenty-six staircases.
