“They’ll be evidence,” Patrick said, straightening up and pulling away from Jono. He didn’t go far, taking Jono’s hand in his after another brief moment of hesitation. Jono squeezed his hand lightly, offering comfort.
“We won’t claim the bodies that don’t belong to us when the police are finished with them,” Jono promised.
As for those who’d sided with Estelle and had survived, unless any of them passed muster with Fenrir, Jono was going to start his reign handing down exiles if the lot of them managed to evade jail time.
“It is your city to rule now. I hope you wield that power with a kinder hand than your predecessors,” Brigid said.
She didn’t sound like she had much hope in that area, but Jono let the subtle insult slide. This was a battle he wasn’t willing to fight after the one that just ended.
“We appreciate the alliance you’ve given us,” Jono said, twisting the meaning into a thank you that wouldn’t leave them beholden to the fae.
Brigid’s gaze never wavered. “It was never meant to last forever.”
“I never asked for it to.”
“We will guard your borders during the day for a while longer. Consider it payment for what Cernunnos wrought.”
Jono wasn’t surprised she’d want to clear any perceived debts. The fae hated owing anyone but didn’t mind being the ones holding claim to debts. “What did that arsehole do?”
“Kept Hannah alive,” Patrick said in a quiet voice that didn’t sound like him at all.
His scent was a tangle of emotions that Jono didn’t want anyone else to be witness to. Patrick’s shields weren’t locked down, leaving him vulnerable in a way Jono knew he hated. But it told Jono more than the possession had happened while he was with the enemy, and they weren’t in a place to discuss it.
Mostly, Jono wanted to herd Patrick home, put him to bed, and never let him leave the flat again.
“Órlaith,” Brigid called out. “It is time to go home.”
Gerard and Órlaith came forward through the crowd. The Summer Lady kissed Gerard firmly on the mouth. “I’ll finish my duties in the Seelie Court and then return to Dublin. I’ll ring you when I arrive.”
“Stay safe,” Gerard said, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles. Streaks of blood were splashed across her clothes and speckled over her skin, but she carried no wounds on her body.
The fae were deadly, no matter what they looked like or what Court they came from.
Órlaith left Central Park by Brigid’s side, leaving the scent of summer behind. The greenery of Central Park was startling after nearly a month of winter-like landscape, the life once sucked out of the plants now returned. Jono wondered if the rest of the parks in the five boroughs had been returned to their summer glory, or if it was just this one.
“We’ll need to deal with the police and then I’m guessing the press.” Sage eyed them before shaking her head. “You’ll need clothes if you’re going before the cameras.”
Jono really didn’t want to, but he realized he needed to. He was the alpha of the New York City god pack now, as was Patrick. Except he wanted Patrick squirreled away somewhere safe, which left leading up to Jono right now.
“Let’s get everyone sorted,” Jono said.
Patrick sighed wearily. “Sure.”
“We’re getting you seen to first, and then Wade can take you home.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
The stubborn twist to Patrick’s mouth was familiar, even if the fear wasn’t, and Jono didn’t have it in him to argue. He raised his hand, swiping his thumb across Patrick’s lips. “All right, love. But you’re staying out of sight of the bloody vultures with cameras.”
Patrick nodded, a squint to his eyes that told Jono he must have a headache. “I never got my fucking phone back from the US Attorney’s Office, and Andras took the borrowed one.”
“Where were they holding you?”
“Hamilton Heights. In the challenge ring.”
Territory that was rightfully theirs now as the New York City god pack, but Jono had no desire to set foot on that property.
“We’ll let the police handle that crime scene.”
