Ashanti’s lips parted in a smile. “Good. My children will begin hunting tonight.”
At that order, Jamere inclined his head again before leaving, the breeze of his passing fading after a few seconds. Jono wondered if the vampires would come to hate the order to aid them, or if any would attempt to disobey Ashanti. Knowing what he knew about the mother of all vampires through Patrick, Jono assumed their pack would have support until Ashanti ruled otherwise.
Ashanti shifted on her bone hooks, gliding toward where they stood. Jono took a step forward, Fenrir clawing at his soul. The smile on Ashanti’s lips told him she was aware of Fenrir, but the god’s presence didn’t seem to bother her.
“So quick to defend Patrick,” she mused.
“He’s pack, and he’s mine,” Jono said, refusing to look away from the black holes that were her eyes. Patrick’s magic reflected in them like tiny bits of blue-white flame, stars in a night sky no different than the one above them dimmed by light pollution.
“Your packs prayed to me.”
“Not anymore. Not since you came back.”
He was done praying to the gods and kneeling before their altars. Love was the only altar Jono would ever worship at from here on out, and Patrick would be the only one to hear his prayers.
Ashanti’s smile got wider, revealing the dull iron fangs that looked like jagged mountains in her mouth. “A pity, but not a problem since I am here.”
Patrick came to stand next to Jono, their fingers brushing. “If Jamere said it was a body dump that no one saw happen, then Ethan had to have traveled through the veil to do it. I don’t know what the traffic cameras caught that night, but they don’t have me on any feed. It would’ve been in the charges if Ethan was able to get a glamour to stick like that.”
“Do the cameras have anyone on the feed?” Jono asked.
Patrick shrugged. “No idea. Danai will probably ask for it in the next round of discovery. But it could also be guilty knowledge information, in which case, the US Attorney’s Office will fight to keep from revealing it.”
“If you’re imprisoned again, that helps no one,” Lucien said.
“You think I don’t fucking know that? We’re working on it.”
Patrick was free due to a goddess’ interference. There was no guarantee how long immortals could bend the legal system to favor Patrick. Jono only hoped their efforts lasted long enough to clear his name.
“Go home. We will keep watch over your pack territory. If need be, I will contact Persephone to ensure your freedom,” Ashanti said.
Patrick went rigid beside Jono. “Don’t do me any favors.”
“She owns your soul debt. Mortal laws can never interfere with that, no matter what your judges, juries, and executioners believe.”
“Her help isn’t ever free. Whatever price she’d give me this time, I won’t pay it. So don’t ask her for anything on my behalf.”
Ashanti’s expression wasn’t one Jono would ever call kind, but she showed a sense of almost human understanding no other god had ever offered Patrick. “You can’t outrun this.”
Patrick barked out a harsh laugh, the sour stench of old pain rising through his bitter scent. “I know. I tried, and it got me nowhere.”
Ashanti raised her hand to his face, and Jono wanted to slap it away. He didn’t, knowing any strike against her would be returned a thousand-fold by Lucien. That was a fight they didn’t have time for.
She touched Patrick’s face, and he didn’t pull away; Jono wished he would. “Honed yourself sharp over the years I was gone, did you?”
Patrick swallowed hard enough Jono could hear the sound of it in his throat. “That’s what you taught me.”
“Then remember not to break.”
Ashanti let him go and turned her back on them. She disappeared between one eye blink and the next, preternatural speed carrying her away from them. Lucien and Carmen followed after her, leaving Jono and Patrick alone in a winter-dry Prospect Park at the height of summer.
Jono slid his fingers between Patrick’s. “Let’s go home.”
The light from Patrick’s mageglobe faded as he drew down his magic, leaving them in darkness. Jono tugged gently on his hand, leading him out of the park and back to the car.
The long drive home was made in silence, and Jono didn’t try to break it. Whatever thoughts were running through Patrick’s mind, he wasn’t ready to speak them. Jono wouldn’t pressure him to do so. He was looking forward to maybe getting a couple of hours of sleep before Friday morning came with its expected headache.
Estelle waiting for them on the sidewalk in front of their brownstone, carrying a demon in her soul, ensured neither of them would sleep easy that night.
