Carmen and Lucien were both awake by then, even if the rest of his Night Court were still sleeping. The sun hadn’t set yet, so the rest wouldn’t be up for the conversation everyone was about to have.
“Do I smell Chinese food?” Wade said loudly, jackknifing to a sitting position on the floor.
“You’re using a plate and fork, not your fingers,” Jono warned as the front door opened.
“I’ll pour an entire box in my mouth, I don’t care. I’mhungry.”
“Didn’t you feed him?” Patrick asked as he and Nadine came inside.
“Twice. Once each way there and back to Farningham,” Jono said. “He ate chip butties each time.”
“Should’ve packed a trunkful of snacks.”
Patrick looked tired and irritable, weighed down by the six bags of bulging takeaway he carried. Nadine carried just as many because it took a lot of food to feed their group. The pair headed toward the kitchen, and Jono got up to follow them. Wade was sticking his nose into the bags by the time Jono made it to the kitchen, dancing from one foot to the other in his excitement to eat.
“Aw yeah, double order of shrimp fried rice,” Wade said happily.
“You’re sharing,” Sage said.
Wade clutched a box to his chest and gave her a scandalized look. “But there’s two! Which means one is all mine.”
Patrick reached over to pry the box out of his hands. “Sharing means you don’t eat all the food by yourself.”
Wade shoved a spring roll into his mouth and chewed sulkily.
“If you’ve led the British government to my home, I’ll murder you right here,” Lucien said as he draped himself over Carmen’s back, staring at Patrick with half-lidded eyes and an expression on his face that wasn’t welcoming at all.
“The fuck you will,” Jono told him.
Lucien sneered at his protest, but Nadine headed off a fight with a steely eyed glare directed at the both of them. “We made sure the WSA had no names for our CIs and that we lost whatever tail they set on us after we left their headquarters.”
“How did it go?” Sage asked.
Patrick popped open a box full of pot stickers and stabbed one the way he’d stab the enemy. “Not good.”
“We’ve got orders to be out of the country by tomorrow evening,” Nadine said.
“What about the Morrígan’s staff?” Jono asked.
“CCTV captured Ilya Nazarov leaving London via St. Pancras International early this morning. The only luggage he had on him was a case long enough to hold the staff,” Patrick said flatly.
“How did he make it through Customs?”
“Must’ve used magic to scramble the computers in the controlled areas, but CCTV got partials of his face on a couple of feeds after the fact. The system red flagged him too late for us to do anything about it. He took the Eurostar south. Our French counterparts checked the train at Calais, but he wasn’t on board.”
“Do you still think he’s going to Paris?”
Patrick passed the box of pot stickers to Wade, who promptly dumped what was left on his plate that was already piled high with Chinese food. “It’s the most likely scenario. The Orthodox Church of the Dead has a strong foothold in that city. Intelligence indicates that’s where Ilya operates out of.”
“Did you tell the WSA about where you think Ilya is going?” Sage asked.
“No. It’s a fucking diplomatic mess right now, which is why Nadine and I were told to leave the country. I’ll leave it to them to put two and two together.”
“Do they expect you to go back to the United States?”
Nadine scooped up some sesame chicken and dumped it over her fried rice. “The WSA knows I work out of Paris. It won’t seem out of the ordinary if Patrick comes with me. They don’t have jurisdiction in France.”
“What about Sage and Wade? Does the WSA know about them from CCTV?” Jono asked.
