“If you’re here to try to talk me out of this, you’re wasting your time,” Jono said as Casale got out of the car.
“Actually, I’m here to give you a warning. If you’d picked up your phone when I called you this afternoon, I wouldn’t have had to track your ass down,” Casale said.
Jono refused to feel bad about ignoring Casale’s calls, not with everything going on. “The PCB hasn’t been helpful. You aren’t worth my time.”
“None of this is helpful.” Casale left the car door open and came around the front of the vehicle to stand on the sidewalk in front of Jono. “SAIC Henry Ng says there’s activity in the ley lines that isn’t sanctioned.”
“I can’t help you with that.”
The one person who possibly could was missing, leaving a gaping hole in Jono’s chest, the soulbond drifting into an emptiness he couldn’t breach. Some packs had volunteered to try to break into the god pack territory in Hamilton Heights, but Jono had declined. They’d be slaughtered if any Dominion Sect mercenaries and demon-backed hunters had been left behind to guard it. Jono had blood on his hands, and he didn’t want any more that he could avoid.
He knew Patrick wouldn’t either, once they had him back.
Casale studied him before his gaze shifted to the others surrounding Jono, lingering on Gerard’s spear and Órlaith, who bristled with all manner of silver weapons. The smell of it still made Jono’s eyes water and body ache in his gut and thigh. Only faint, yellowing bruises remained from the fight in Brooklyn, but some of the damage still lingered.
“We’re working with the SOA at the request of the mayor to clear the area around Central Park. At your dire’s request, it has officially been designated your challenge ring by way of a mayoral order.”
“Finally,” Sage said.
Considering who was the mayor, Jono thought the Dagda was cutting it close.
“Make sure most of the fighting stays inside Central Park.”
“I can’t promise that,” Jono said.
Casale sighed. “Jono—”
“The PCB held off on investigating Estelle’s god pack for too long. You ignored the hunter problem because it wasn’t affecting mundane humans, only our communities. You don’t get to stand there and dictate how and where we fight when we’re the ones putting our lives and reputations on the line to make this city safer by forcing the fucking demonsout,” Jono snarled.
“We haven’t ignored anything. Cases take time.”
Jono laughed harshly, thinking of the uncanny swiftness of Patrick’s criminal case, shepherded along by the hand of a goddess. “You’ve done fuck all for my people, Casale. This is me not standing on the sidelines anymore, not when Patrick’s life is at stake.”
“The SOA is aware of his kidnapping. They’ve indicated they’re preparing to deploy a Rapid Response Team.”
“I know who has him, and we don’t need the SOA’s help to get him back.”
Jono turned his back on Casale and walked with his pack into Central Park. The Met loomed in the sky off to their right, the skeletal branches of the trees incapable of hiding the museum.
Sunset was an hour away, and if the fight lasted past that time, then the Night Courts would shore up their side. Ashanti had promised her children would show, and Lucien had dispatched his human servants to the other Night Courts to give the order. Fae were support during the daylight hours, vampires for the night, and the softly descending twilight came with the promise kept by a god of war.
Fog drifted through the trees and bushes, blurring out the edges of Central Park. The faint sound of war drums started up, a conch shell blowing a call to arms as the Night Marchers crossed the veil to aid the packs in the street.
“Ku will enjoy the slaughter,” Gerard said.
“So long as he doesn’t slaughter any of ours,” Sage retorted.
Dry, brittle leaves crunched beneath Jono’s shoes as they walked down the path running adjacent to the Seventy-Ninth Street Transverse. It curved around the Met, taking them through a short tunnel that ran beneath the East Drive on their way to the Great Lawn. As they came out of the tunnel, Emma and Leon dropped down from above, flanking their small group.
“All your loyal pack alphas are accounted for and waiting on your arrival at the Great Lawn,” Emma said.
“Any sign of Patrick?” Jono asked, unable to snuff out the tiny flare of hope that kindled in him, even though the soulbond still felt empty.
Emma shook her head. “None. No one got eyes or scent of him when Estelle’s people started showing up.”
“Do we really think they’re going to bring him if they threatened we’d never see him again if we fought?” Wade asked.
“There’s still time to send packs to Hamilton Heights,” Leon said.
