Jono tugged on Patrick’s arm. “At least we’re raising him right.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “He’s nineteen. He could raise himself.”
“Doubtful. He’d be living off Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets if he tried.”
“Breakfast of champions for college students everywhere.”
“I’m not in college,” Wade said over his shoulder, nearly to the entrance.
“Not yet. You need to finish your HSE Diploma first.”
Wade still didn’t know what he wanted to do in regards to higher-level schooling, but Patrick wanted him to know he had options. Sage had promised to cover his school costs out of her own personal pockets so they didn’t have to touch the tithes. The idea of college still left Wade a little uneasy, as if the thought of being away from the pack wasn’t something he was ready for, but Patrick knew one of these days he’d have to spread his wings.
Sage brushed past them, giving him a brief smile as she squared her shoulders for facing the crowd outside. “Good luck. Come by for dinner afterwards.”
“I will,” Patrick said, rolling his shoulders to settle his suit jacket a little better. His clothes had lingering traces of the hells embedded in the fabric, and he knew no amount of dry cleaning would fix that.
Jono grabbed his hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss over the back of his knuckles as they passed through the high arch of the cathedral doors and into the hot summer day. “I love you. Be safe.”
“I’ll come back,” Patrick promised, tongue tracing out different syllables behind his teeth. He wanted to believe the words slipping free of his mouth were true, that everything going on wouldn’t further separate them.
“I’m heading back to Emma’s to get the car, and I’ll pick you up after your meeting. Ring me when you’re finished.”
“Okay.”
He ignored the cameras pointed their way, letting Jono go because he had to. Patrick guided Danai down the steps toward where Detective Specialists Allison Ramirez and Dwayne Guthrie stood near an unmarked police car on Fifth Avenue.
Allison gave him a slow nod at their approach. “The chief said you needed a ride.”
“Not to a jail cell at the police station,” Patrick said.
“We know.”
Dwayne scrutinized him in silence before shaking his head. “It’s all a fucking mess, Collins.”
“As thrilling as this conversation is, we have somewhere to be,” Danai said pointedly.
Patrick sighed, not looking forward to the upcoming meeting, but got into the car with Danai anyway. He couldn’t fight the inevitable, after all.
* * *
“You certainly knowhow to stage some theatrics,” Preston said.
“Did you really just say Istagedthe attack on Fifth Avenue?” Patrick asked, his tone bypassing disbelief and going straight tofuck you sideways.
“I was referring to Danai’s news conference last week.”
“Sure you were.”
“Stop antagonizing my client, Preston. You agreed to this meeting,” Danai said.
Preston’s jaw twitched. “The US attorney approved it.”
Patrick wondered if there had been some sort of disagreement between the assistant US attorneys and their overseeing partner, or if the gods had once again influenced the proceedings somehow. Considering they were having the meeting at all, he figured that was more likely. It wasn’t every day the government responded to a demand so quickly, or that a forensic investigator could be retained on such short notice.
They were in a large conference room on the sixth floor of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York. A court reporter and videographer were set up in the corner, though neither was recording anything yet. At the far end of the table sat a pair of witches from a third-party forensic investigation firm. They were present to compare the lab report on the magical signature found on the trishula to Patrick’s.
The US Attorney’s Office had brought their own mage, who would be capable of telling if the results the witches came up with were in any way tampered with, either by the forensic group or Patrick. His official file said he was a mage in name only, and maybe Preston thought his deficiency was enough to ensure Patrick couldn’t hide anything from them.
