“Our pack is more important than my job.”
Jono blinked at him, but Patrick wasn’t about to take those words back. Warm fingers slid up his throat to stroke over his jaw, cupping his chin. Jono drew him into a kiss that made Patrick dream about getting undressed and messing up the bedsheets.
“You staying safe is important, and your job helps with that,” Jono murmured against his mouth. “So don’t get fired.”
“I’d get a vacation if that happened.”
Jono laughed, pulling back but not going far. “We’ll make it to Maui one day, love.”
“Promise?”
Jono tugged on his tie, voice rumbling in his chest when he spoke. “Promise.”
Patrick stole another quick kiss before extricating himself from Jono’s arms. They left the bedroom, and he wasn’t surprised to see Nadine waiting for him in the living room, dressed in a pristine white pantsuit and scarlet high heels that matched her lipstick. She looked like she could’ve been walking a runway rather than preparing to do battle with a foreign intelligence and magic agency.
“Ready?” Nadine asked as she tossed Jono a set of keys that he easily caught.
Patrick nodded and followed her out of the apartment. Sound popped back into his ears once they crossed through the silence ward. They left the building, and Nadine led him a block over to where she paid a monthly fee, covered by the PIA, to park her car. It was a black two-door Audi that had scratches over one rear wheel from claws rather than keys. Patrick didn’t ask what had caused it. They got in, and Nadine started the engine, pulling out of the tiny space.
“How long do you think this emergency meeting will go?” Patrick asked as they got on the road.
The French Ministry of Magical Affairs was located at the Quai d'Orsay. Luckily, the drive wouldn’t take too long since it was near the Seine. While it wasn’t within the same arrondissement as Nadine’s apartment, it was still close as opposed to being clear across the city.
“However long it needs to take.” Nadine shifted gears as they came up on a red light, sunglasses perched on her nose. “We should probably report in.”
Patrick sighed as he smacked his hand against the roof of the car, setting a silence ward into place before pulling out his phone. “All right.”
The time difference between Paris and Washington, DC, meant he wasn’t waking Setsuna up, but she still sounded pissed off when she answered the phone.
“We’re in contact with INTERPOL,” Setsuna said in lieu of a greeting. “They’ll be present at the meeting you’re scheduled to attend.”
“Any hits on Nazarov?” Patrick asked.
“Not since London.”
Patrick leaned his head back against the seat. “He’ll be coming to Paris if he’s not here already.”
“How certain are you?”
“If Nazarov has been worshipping out of Paris, then his god is here.”
“The French government will need something more concrete than a myth.”
“That’s all I have.”
It should’ve been enough, but the old myths weren’t the predominant religions these days. Science and magic and religion might co-exist, but believing in the old gods was a step too far for most people. The ones who worshipped the gods whose lives had fallen by the wayside were few and far between compared to the billions who worshipped in churches and mosques and temples across the world.
Patrick curled his fingers around the mark on his palm, Srecha’s blessing burning deep as he thought about Ashanti and the altar he hadn’t prayed before in over a week.
“The auction was where this should have ended, Patrick,” Setsuna said.
“The auction was a means to an end. This whole fucking mess won’t stop until Ethan is dead, or I am. You know that,” he bit out.
Setsuna’s breathing was sharp and staticky across the line. “We don’t win this fight if you’re dead.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Then find the staff. Director Franklin has sent senior agents to meet you and Mulroney at the ministry. They’ve been informed of the auction, but not what artifact we were after. They’ll take lead on the negotiations with France.”
