If the Dominion Sect had allied itself with the other god pack, there was a good chance Estelle and Youssef already knew about Fenrir because of Ethan. It would explain the uptick in attacks against Jono’s god pack. Animal-god patrons rarely gave blessings in modern times. Carrying Fenrir in his soul was proof of his claim to territory Estelle and Youssef couldn’t afford to let be known publicly within the packs.
But any bargain those two had made with the Dominion Sect would put them at a disadvantage. Information about Fenrir could be something Ethan would keep close to his chest to undermine them.
As for Andras? It was fifty-fifty if the demon recognized Fenrir in Jono’s soul. The Great Marquis of Hell had been far too distracted by Spencer trying to exorcise him back in London to take much notice of anything else happening in that fight.
All of which meant Jono couldn’t give up Fenrir if it meant there was a chance, however slim, that the god could be used against Estelle and Youssef later on.
Wade yanked on Jono’s fur again, actually capable of moving him. “Let’sgo!”
“Running won’t save you,” Zachary said as he conjured up a mageglobe.
Zachary’s next attack spell was a strike one, the raw, brutal power behind it strong enough to break through the fae busker’s shield. The fae screamed in pain as his magic shattered, but the attack never got the chance to do any further damage.
Wade opened his mouth androared, spitting dragon fire over Jono’s head at the spell, breaking up the magic. The sound echoed ferociously all around them as the protective wards lining the subway tunnel flared in warning. The air became heavier, fraught with defensive power that ate away at Zachary’s next attack.
Nicholas and the other god pack werecreatures lunged forward, dark blurs in the fading light of dragon fire. Jono shook free of Wade’s grip and met their charge with one of his own, not holding back. In the damaged, tight space of the subway car, Jono tore into the werecreatures with a brutal swiftness that sent blood and pieces of flesh flying through the air.
He took his own hits, but the pain was negligible. Jono was larger than the other werecreatures, driven by fury, with an immortal clawing at his soul and urging him on. Even with demons riding their souls, the others only had so much space to maneuver in and had to contend with Wade as well.
More dragon fire erupted around them, singeing Jono’s fur and outright engulfing one werecreature. The agonized howl he let out was followed by the flash of negative light as the demon left its host. The werecreature slid into the ragged gap between the two broken sides of the train car, a mass of glistening red and singed black skin bleeding all over the place.
Wade breathed fire again, forcing Zachary and the hunters onto the defensive. The other werecreatures regrouped, dodging the flame aimed their way as they targeted Jono once again. Despite leading the charge, Nicholas and whatever demon rode his soul pulled back at the last second, letting the others get within reach of Jono’s claws first. Jono went for their throats, twisting around smaller bodies to tear into flesh. Hot blood splashed over his tongue, coating his teeth, as Jono left bodies in his wake.
Those demons that rode werecreatures’ souls escaped with explosive speed before their hosts died, the sound of thunder heralded by no lightning echoing in the subway. Jono snarled a warning at Zachary, Nicholas, and the remaining hunters, their group’s numbers halved in a few minutes’ worth of wrath.
The werecreatures’ deaths could be grudgingly allowed by law, but killing a possessed man was still considered murder in many states. The subway was no one’s territory, and self-defense sometimes wasn’t enough of a legal shield. Despite the legal risk he might have opened himself up to, Jono wasn’t thinking much about the law as he focused on Andras, the Great Marquis of Hell staring out of the hunter’s eyes.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you and ruin you?” Andras asked through the hunter’s mouth.
Jono couldn’t speak, not in his current form, so Wade did the talking for him.
“Big words for an ugly-ass meat suit I can crispify in two seconds,” Wade said right before he let loose an explosion of dragon fire so hot it melted metal.
Zachary raised a shield between their two sides that buckled beneath the vicious heat. Jono stepped forward, ignoring the way the subway train shifted beneath his feet. As the flames faded, he nearly got shot in the face by a barrage of silver-plated, aconite-dipped crossbow bolts.
The threat disappeared in midair, turning into an explosion of butterflies as Áltsé Hashké appeared in the space between the broken halves of the subway train.
“You would be wise not to send my children to their slaughter,” Áltsé Hashké said, staring at Andras.
The hunter’s mouth twisted into a mocking smile, but Andras didn’t reload the crossbow. “Your children are only good for dying. You chose the wrong side.”
Áltsé Hashké didn’t rise to the bait, an unmovable force standing between Jono and Wade, and those who allied themselves with the hells.
Gray fog twisted around Zachary and the others who remained, the vastness of the veil between worlds ripping open with obvious effort. Jono could see how it cost Andras to tear through the veil while surrounded by the subway’s protective wards. The demon was still strong enough to slip away, dragging his group’s survivors through the veil.
The only light in the dark came from the fading brightness of the protective wards and the fire in Áltsé Hashké’s eerie yellow eyes when the god turned to look at them. “That one will keep coming.”
Jono flexed his claws and lashed his tail, before licking blood off his teeth. He couldn’t smell any more sulfur, nothing but magic and the sickly sweet scent of fear that permeated the subway tunnel.
He shifted back to human form, body breaking apart until he crouched precariously at the edge of the magically ripped in half train car on two feet instead of four. Even Jono’s enhanced vision made it difficult to see in the dark. Wade reached out to steady him with one hand, bringing the scent of fire with him as he coughed to clear his lungs.
“Can we go now?” Wade asked plaintively.
“Yeah,” Jono promised.
Áltsé Hashké’s yellow eyes disappeared, as did the hint of ozone on the air. Jono didn’t know where the god had gone, but he didn’t have time to wonder about Áltsé Hashké’s interference.
They scrambled out of the train car as quickly and safely as they could. Jono’s bare feet hit the cold, dirty wooden slats of the tracks and the broken glass scattered everywhere. He winced at the pain but kept walking despite the debris that cut into the bottom of his feet.
