“The government requests restriction of movement for the defendant to Manhattan.”
“The defendant will need permission to be in Washington, DC,” Danai countered.
“The defendant will be restricted to movement within the five boroughs of New York City, travel between that city and Washington, DC, and within the nation’s capital as a whole.” The judge picked up her gavel and knocked it against the block on her bench. “It is so ordered.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Danai said.
Preston echoed the formal platitude, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. When Patrick glanced over at his side of the courtroom, he could see the angry disbelief on both the attorneys’ faces. He supposed it wasn’t every day someone charged with murder was allowed to go free before trial. Behind them, Estelle’s god pack were scowling at the judge, but none of the demons riding their souls bothered to speak up.
Judge Talibah Mohamed—a goddess who was maybe, just maybe, on the side of all the heavens—stood and left the bench, retreating to her chambers.
Danai let out a quiet breath before closing her binder. “That went better than I thought.”
“What now?” Patrick asked.
“Marek is financing your secured bond. We’ll get it paid, and you’ll be processed out of jail. I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours.”
An officer approached, the bulletproof vest in one hand and handcuffs dangling from the other. Patrick glanced back at his pack for a brief moment, seeing their eyes on him, before he was taken into custody once more.
11
“Can I throw rocks at them?”Wade asked, peering through the blinds at the mob of press waiting on the sidewalk below the flat.
“No,” Jono said.
“What about flowerpots?”
“We don’t have any, but even if we did, no.”
“What if I singe them? Just a little bit?”
“And have that be a breaking news story? No, Wade. You are not allowed to singe the press.”
Wade stepped away from the window, grumbling under his breath. “Fine.”
Jono could understand Wade’s frustration, because he didn’t like the media following them around either. Being treated as if they were a sideshow in a circus made Jono want to lash out, but they couldn’t. Every move they made was being watched, which restricted them from retaliating against Estelle. Jono figured that was what she’d wanted, and he hated it.
He’d had to clean up the flat after the police and FBI ransacked it Sunday. They’d ended up not taking much—Patrick’s mobile, his agency-issued laptop, and every file from his desk. Hermes had wandered around getting in Jono’s way to keep him from snapping at other agents. When everyone had finally left, Jono had found Patrick’s dagger, the lone Greek coin, and the broken-off piece of the Morrígan’s staff in its warded iron box on the bed, with the immortal nowhere to be found.
The flat had stunk of strangers for hours afterward, driving Jono mad. Even with Wade staying over, it had taken time for the intrusive smell to fade away. Their pack was buddying up as a precautionary measure, and with Patrick having been in jail, Wade had volunteered to stay with him last night. He hadn’t made up his mind yet if he was going to stay another night or sleep at Sage’s home.
Sage planned on doing more wedding planning stuff when she got home, despite everything going on, and Jono would rather not be in the midst of that. He wasn’t sure Wade would either. Sage was currently curled up on the sofa, glued to her laptop. She’d been on a conference call with Tiarnán earlier that Jono had barely paid attention to, but he knew they’d have to meet with her boss eventually. The alliance ran both ways, and Tiarnán had need of them.
Marek was sprawled beside Sage, staring at the television but not really watching it. He’d paid Patrick’s bond out of his own pocket, not dipping into pack money, and Jono knew there was no way they’d ever be able to repay him for that generosity. He knew the money would get returned if—when—Patrick was found not guilty, but the fact that Marek hadn’t thought twice about paying it had made Jono so incredibly grateful for his friends.
“I want Patrick to get here so we can eat,” Wade said as he flopped down onto the armchair. “I bet he’s hungry. Prison food always looks gross in movies.”
“Have we found something you won’t eat?” Sage asked, not looking up from her laptop.
Wade frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe? Not like a jail could hold me. I could’ve busted Patrick out, now that I think about it. One tail flick—”
“There will be no destroying federal buildings,” Jono interrupted. “Stop taking after Patrick.”
“Someone has to until he gets back.”
“Which should be soon, so no need to plan a jailbreak when it’s not needed.”
They’d gone with Marek to pay the bond, but Danai was the one to have picked up Patrick from jail. Jono had wanted to, but the news was already filled with talking heads railing against his release while charged with murder. The talk of double standards for federal agents or police officers compared with the average citizen was getting a lot of traction on the airwaves.
