Wade blew out a thin finger of flame, providing some light in the dark. It was enough to see the fae busker sprawled in the narrow space between the train and the side of the tunnel, one arm flung over the track itself. The train was no longer lurching on the rails while being crushed by magic, but Jono didn’t want to risk the fae getting his arm cut off. He lifted the unconscious fae onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
It left little room to maneuver in the tight space, but Jono kept walking, ignoring the pain that radiated up to his knees with every step he took as Wade led the way forward. Some of the train cars had jumped the tracks from the force of the stop, making him worry about the structural integrity of the subway itself and the buildings above.
The cars lay at odd angles, some blocking the way, with clusters of panicked people crying because they had no way to get out. The group they’d come upon was visible because someone had cast witchlights. Jono scanned the area before handing the fae busker over to Wade with a grunt.
“Keep ahold of him,” Jono said.
Wade hefted the fae onto one shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “What are you going to do?”
“Find us a way out.”
“What about when the police get here? What do we tell them?”
“Tell them you ran for cover and didn’t see anything.”
It was a lie, but one they had to stick with. People didn’t believe in gods anymore, and Wade’s status as a dragon wasn’t something the police as a whole needed to know about. His part of the fight in Paris was still making the rounds on social media in recorded videos, but his identity had been something Patrick had fiercely fought to keep out of the public domain.
Jono approached the crowd, and a couple of people shrieked at his appearance. Jono couldn’t change the fact that he was naked and covered in blood, and he was too tired to try to smile to ease their fear.
“Give me some space to work. I’m going to move the train car,” Jono said, raising his voice.
People stepped aside, getting out of his way. The teenage witch stayed up front, increasing the number of witchlights that hovered in the air. She stared at him determinedly, face washed out beneath the shine of her magic.
“Let me know if you need more light,” she said in a voice that shook only a little.
“Thanks, love,” Jono said.
The train car blocking their way sat at an angle across the tracks. It had been forcibly uncoupled from the car behind it, which had crashed into the one currently in the way. Jono could smell blood emanating from both cars, and he knew not everyone had escaped alive.
He couldn’t tell if the subway tunnel itself had been damaged or not, but staying stuck wasn’t an option. Approaching the train, Jono pressed his hands against the side of the car and readied himself.
Fenrir sank claws into his soul and mind, growling low enough Jono thought he could feel the vibration in his bones.You should have let me loose.
I’ll let you loose on Estelle and Youssef when the time is right. For now, stop being a twat and lend me your strength.
Tossing a car was one thing. Moving a subway car or two was something else entirely. Even with preternatural strength, that would be difficult. Gods were different though, and Fenrir lent Jono the strength to shove the two train cars aside far enough to make room for the trapped passengers to pass through. Sparks flew as the train scraped over metal tracks, but they faded in seconds.
Jono looked over his shoulder at the mass of scared faces staring back at him. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Everyone surged forward, desperate for safety after the horror they’d survived.
6
Jono pickedat the set of scrubs he’d been given by an EMS crew in the subway, the stiff fabric itching his skin. He flexed his bare toes against the cold floor of Interview Room 1 at the PCB where he’d been sitting for hours, wanting desperately to leave.
The group of passengers he and Wade had escorted through the tunnel had been intercepted by police and other first responders. Most of the passengers had been allowed to leave with their hands over their heads after the first frantic minutes. Jono, however, had been treated like a threat because of the state he’d been in—naked, bloody, and very obviously a werecreature.
Wade had tried to warn them off, as had the teenaged witch, but their protests had fallen on deaf ears. Jono had gone to his knees, hands over his head, staring down drawn weapons as the police approached. He’d been handcuffed and hauled out of the subway tunnel behind everyone else.
Only when they made it to the shutdown West 4 Street/Washington Square/6 Avenue Station did his situation change. That station had been evacuated and turned into a staging and triage area for first responders. By the time they exited the tunnel, police from the PCB had made it onsite, and Jono was remanded into their custody. Due to the nature and location of the attack, Casale had shown up on the scene to oversee it. The moment he’d caught sight of Jono, things had gotten slightly more comfortable, but not easier.
The plastic cuffs had been cut off, and someone had found him an emergency foil blanket to wrap around his waist. His initial statement was taken on the platform, but he hadn’t been allowed to leave. Jono had lost track of Wade in the aftermath, and he hadn’t seen him since. Wade had Jono’s mobile and keys, so there was no way for him to contact anyone except through a PCB line, which limited what he could speak about. Worry gnawed at his gut as badly as hunger.
Casale had ordered Jono taken back to PCB headquarters for a more in-depth interview. He’d been ensconced in the interview room under the watchful eyes of the police behind the two-way window since he arrived. Someone had brought him water but no food, and Jono’s stomach rumbled loudly. He’d been allowed to ring one person, and he’d chosen Sage at the time so there wasn’t a record of Patrick’s number for the PCB.
“I’m not a criminal lawyer, but we’re in good standing with several top-tier law firms here in Manhattan where we’ve done referrals. I’m working on getting you representation,” Sage had told him.
He’d known she couldn’t represent him; her specialization was civil litigation and pack law. Not to mention, the conflicts of interest were huge. “Cheers.”
