“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I don’t have the background necessary to pull something like that off. There’s a strong possibility Ethan may have warned whoever is running the auction about me, and to be on the lookout for government agents in general.”
Jono sighed. “All right. Where is the auction taking place?”
Patrick glanced over at Jono. “London.”
The way Jono’s grip tightened on the steering wheel said as much as the silence that settled between them. It lasted until they were halfway to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, but Patrick didn’t try to get Jono to talk until he was ready.
“London,” Jono finally said, voice empty of all emotion.
“Yeah. Our intelligence indicates the auction is being held there. Whoever is Medb’s intermediary, they’re selling it in the black market equivalent of Sotheby’s or some shit.”
“Do you have to go?”
“Probably. Lucien needs oversight.”
Jono looked at Patrick over the rims of his sunglasses. “You’re the last person he’d ever obey.”
Patrick snorted. “We’re gonna have to make it worth his while.”
“What’s it going to cost?”
“Not my soul.”
Jono pulled his hand free to smack Patrick lightly on the chest. “You aren’t funny.”
“You love my sense of humor.”
“I love you, even when you’re a right arsehole.”
Patrick didn’t fight the smile that came to his face. Jono’s love was something he didn’t ever want to take for granted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to voice the same words back. A year of being together and Patrick could arguably say he’d found the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with—if he managed to survive.
“You know, we missed our anniversary dinner because I was in DC,” Patrick said.
Jono turned his attention back on the road. “I thought we agreed it was after summer solstice?”
“Okay, so we missed our pre-anniversary dinner. I still think the first night we met needs to be celebrated.”
They could do without fighting a soultaker, but Patrick wouldn’t be averse to some wall sex.
“We could be celebrating it soon if we didn’t have to go see Lucien.”
Patrick groaned. “Stop reminding me about how much my job sucks.”
It was a means to an end on some days. Paid the bills on others. He was a pawn no matter how one looked at it, and when Jono finally turned down the alley that ran the length of Ginnungagap in Chelsea, Patrick was tired of the overtime already. A familiar motorcycle was parked by the side door ahead of them, which meant Lucien had arrived before them.
“Tell Fenrir not to interfere,” Patrick said as they got out of the car, the summer heat a heavy blanket of mugginess in the air around them.
“Might have better luck with you not having a row with Lucien,” Jono mused.
Patrick shoved him, but Jono barely moved. “Hilarious. Of the two of us, you tend to threaten to tear out Lucien’s throat more than me.”
“Because I have the teeth and claws to do it.” Jono flipped his sunglasses on top of his head, revealing his wolf-bright eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
The side door was unlocked, the brass plate detailing out the name Ginnungagap gleaming in the sunlight. What lived in the building’s walls was a heavy pressure against Patrick’s shields as they crossed the threshold into a muffled silence that always echoed strangely in his ears. Ginnungagap, the yawning abyss, was a primordial void whose unearthly power reached through the veil to settle here.
Ashanti had made a deal with the Norse pantheon for its use, or so the story went, and out of all her children, she’d left control of it to Lucien. Whether or not he could do anything with it outside of making a club that brought in humans for food and kept out most magic users due to the unsettling feeling Ginnungagap produced in people was up in the air.
