Patrick’s jaw twitched. “Understood.”
There wasn’t much more they needed to discuss, so he wasn’t surprised when Setsuna ended the call. Patrick put his phone away, glaring out the windshield.
“If you’d gone after the staff, you would’ve left Spencer vulnerable,” Nadine said quietly. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
Patrick drew in a sharp breath and let it out slow. “Me too.”
The gods could demand the impossible of him because they owned his soul, but that didn’t mean he’d drag his friends down with him. The Morrígan’s staff was still missing, but Spencer was alive and safe.
Patrick would never regret that.
19
The Metro trainrolled into Anvers station, faces flashing by on the platform. Jono stood, gesturing for Sage and Wade to follow him to the nearest exit. A few people were already positioned in front of the door, darting out the moment they opened.
They stepped out between the barricades on either side of the door on the platform, sliding past commuters waiting to board. Jono spotted the blue-and-whiteSortiesign over everyone’s head and veered in that direction. Sage and Wade stuck close until they reached the surface, where they came up on an island between the streets.
The buildings that surrounded them were much like the ones they’d left behind in Nadine’s neighborhood. Densely packed apartment buildings lined the street, with shops taking up space at the ground level.
They’d left Nadine’s because Sage had worked out a meeting with the Paris god pack’s dire, and it was happening today after all. Jono had texted Patrick an update, but he hadn’t gotten a response yet.
Sage stared at her mobile, moving her thumb to shift the map on the screen. “We cross here and take that street over there up the hill. We have twenty minutes until we meet Gaspard and Mireille. Most likely they’re already there.”
Jono nodded. “Let’s go.”
They could easily make it up to the meeting point at Square Louise-Michel near Sacré-Cœur in that time frame, except Wade got distracted first by a boulangerie, then a crêperie, and finally a gelato shop.
“Wade,” Jono said through gritted teeth as the teenager hiked his bag of croissants higher in his arm and tried to fit as big of a bite of his Nutella crêpe as he could into his mouth.
“Let me finish this so I can get gelato,” Wade managed to somehow get out around the food making his cheeks bulge.
Sage opened up her sleek Chanel wallet purse, pulled out a twenty-euro bill, and tucked it into Wade’s front pocket. “Meet us at the top. Don’t dawdle.”
Wade beamed at her from beneath the red felt beret he’d convinced Jono to buy him at a little souvenir shop near the Metro stop at the bottom of the hill. “You’re the best.”
“We should stay together,” Jono said.
Sage hooked her hand around his elbow and pulled with a preternatural strength that forced Jono to move his feet. “He’ll be fine. Besides, we may need backup. At the very least, a warning.”
She was probably right.
“When you come find us, be obnoxious about it,” Jono called over his shoulder. The order wouldn’t make sense to anyone around them, but Wade nodded his understanding, lips smeared with Nutella.
They left Wade to feed himself, joining the summer crowd of people that filled the street and the park up ahead. Jono’s nostrils flared at the scent of so many people packed in together but he didn’t dial down his senses. He caught the scent of more than a few werecreatures in the crowd and tried not to bare his teeth. Jono didn’t appreciate being surrounded, but he didn’t think the Paris god pack would be one to start a fight in a public space, especially in their city.
Rather than choose a restaurant or a home, Rami, the Paris god pack’s dire, had instructed them to meet at the park. The open space provided very few, if any, spots to get cornered in, and the number of mundane humans would make most people think twice about initiating a fight. That was never a guarantee though, so Jono kept his guard up.
Montmartre was both a hill and a neighborhood, and its crown jewel was the basilica that sat atop it. Sacré-Cœur’s white façade stood out against the blue sky as they took the steps that bisected the park up to the top. Its turreted roofs were atypical of most churches in the city, but the panoramic views of Paris its courtyards provided were unparalleled.
“Up there,” Sage said, pointing at the next terrace level.
Amidst the tourists milling around on their climb up to Sacré-Cœur and the best view in Paris, a cluster of men and women had taken over a bench. A gentle breeze brought their pack scent to Jono a second later, thick and heady, but without the underlying fear and unease that had permeated the London god pack.
The werecreatures in the crowd who followed their climb up the steps kept their distance. That didn’t stop Jono’s skin from prickling with all the eyes on them as he and Sage approached the Paris god pack. While he could understand their precaution, Jono didn’t like being surrounded.
Jono and Sage stood shoulder to shoulder on their approach to the group on the bench. The midafternoon sun beat down on them, providing a clear panoramic view of Paris stretched out around them. Only a few puffy white clouds floated across the sky, making for an idyllic backdrop to heavy negotiations.
“Bonjour, Jonothon,” Gaspard Renaud said where he lounged on the bench, one arm draped over a lovely brunette woman, who flashed sharp teeth at them.
