“Should’ve got a bloody ride,” Jono said under his breath.
Someone slipped through the crowd to stand beside Jono, carrying with them the crackling taste of ozone that burned the back of Jono’s throat when he breathed. Strange yellow eyes he’d seen only once a year ago stared back at him in a weathered face framed by two thick braids. The immortal’s jeans were faded, and Jono couldn’t make out the design on his T-shirt since it was hidden beneath a breastplate made out of white bone beads.
No one else on the train paid them any attention at all, though Jono wondered if humanity would ever recognize the gods who walked amongst them.
“It’s a shame the spirits of my children don’t get along,” Áltsé Hashké said, mustache twitching above his lips as he smiled.
Wade grabbed Jono’s arm with tight fingers, but Jono held up his hand to ward off whatever the teen was going to yell about. “Shut it.”
It didn’t work.
“He smells like lightning!” Wade hissed.
“Well aware of that. Shut your gob.” Jono kept his attention focused on the god. “What do you—”
The train lurched to a sudden halt, brakes squealing so loudly Jono had to dial down his hearing. The force of the stop pitched people out of their seats and onto the floor with no warning. People standing staggered about, trying to stay upright, while others fell on top of people sprawled on the dirty floor.
Jono’s feet skidded over the floor as Wade clung to him, nearly taking them both down. Jono tightened his grip on the overhead bar to the point he dented the metal. They managed to stay upright through sheer stubbornness.
Áltsé Hashké was unaffected, standing amidst shaken people with a calm expression on his face. Dozens of voices yelled out in confusion as people picked themselves up from the floor, looking around for answers that weren’t forthcoming.
“What the fuck? Is this your doing?” Jono growled.
Áltsé Hashké shook his head. “No. I came to warn you.”
Jono could feel Fenrir waking up in the back of his mind, clawing at the deepest edges of his soul. He ground his teeth against the sharp tug on his awareness that he knew could easily swallow him whole.
“What’s going on?”
Áltsé Hashké didn’t speak. The god merely turned his head to the side, and Jono followed his gaze. Dull light burned beyond the train windows, tracing sigils Jono couldn’t understand. Lines of magic flared up in the dark, sputtering in a way he didn’t like.
“Are those the protective wards?” Jono asked.
“That can’t be good, right?” Wade asked, refusing to let go of Jono.
“Hey, what’s going on out there?” someone called out from the other end of the car.
More and more people were looking out of the windows and pointing at the magic peeling away from the subway tunnel walls. Gray mist floated past the windows, sending a chill down Jono’s spine.
“Are the wards breaking?” Jono asked, heart rate picking up.
“The veil grows thin,” Áltsé Hashké warned.
Jono breathed harshly, and on the second inhale he got a whiff of sulfur that made him want to gag.
Áltsé Hashké looked Jono in the eye, but it wasn’t Jono the god spoke to when he opened his mouth. “I’ll keep watch on the veil. Stay hidden, cousin.”
“What do you mean—”
Jono broke off when the train lurched again, as if someone had shoved it. The lights overhead flickered in a way he didn’t like. A high-pitched sound rent the air, one that made Jono’s teeth ache. Metal screeched as it twisted and broke somewhere near the front. The entire trainshuddered, and the lights went out completely, plunging them into darkness.
People screamed and scrambled toward the emergency windows, trying to get them open. Flashes of light from mobiles came and went as people panicked. Outside the train, the glow of the protective wards was dying out as the sigils disintegrated off the walls. Jono knew enough about magic these days that a breach in the protective wards lining the subway could only end badly.
Jono ripped off his sunglasses and tossed them aside. “We need to get off the train.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Wade said, his brown eyes glinting gold in the dim lighting coming off people’s mobiles.
The train lurched again, sliding down the tracks in a way that almost made Jono lose his footing. People screamed—not just in their car, but in all the others, the sound echoing back to him. Some of the passengers lost their balance as they tried to climb out, falling out of the train into the dark. Since it was still capable of moving, Jono hoped no one lost any limbs.
