“No time to explain,” she growled.
Sage hauled the man along with easy strength as they pitched themselves down the stairs that led to the first floor of the Great Hall, marble pillars flashing by as they ran. They’d just reached the ground floor when the soultakers screamed so loudly Patrick’s ears ached. The security guard let out a sound of wordless terror, fumbling for his sidearm. Sage swatted his hand away from the gun and headed for the front entrance across the marble floor.
They never made it.
A fiery arc cut through the air, materializing as a sword at the last second. Gerard spun his spear to stop the attack as hot metal bit into the bone pole, but theGáe Bulgdidn’t break.
The figure stepping out of the veil wouldn’t have been out of place at a party on an expensive yacht sailing the Mediterranean Sea. Tanned skin looked bronzed beneath the dim after-hours lighting. The gold-brown eyes were dark holes in a face many artists had carved into marble over the centuries, framed by curly brown hair. The high-fashion clothes would’ve looked better on the runway rather than the dreary DC streets where black was the only color in town some days.
Gerard spun his spear to parry the sword to the side before cutting the notched blade toward the other god’s head. “Ares.”
The Greek god of war ducked out of range of the attack, wielding his sword like an extension of himself. “Here I thought you’d still be past the veil on the losing side, Cú Chulainn.”
“I dare you to say that to Brigid’s face,” Gerard growled.
Ares laughed, the sound booming in the vast open space of the Great Hall. The soultakers screamed again in response, and Patrick swore when the security guard gave in to his instincts and tried to make a run for it. He didn’t get far before a knife thrown by Ares buried itself in his back.
“Fuck,” Patrick snarled, knowing they didn’t have time to stop and help the man. At this rate, he’d be fodder for the soultakers coming down the stairs behind them.
Patrick put himself behind Sage, facing the oncoming demons, but he didn’t raise a shield. The matte-black blade of his dagger was impossible to see beneath the white-hot heavenly fire burning over the prayer-infused metal.
The three soultakers staggered off the stairs, their bipedal bodies showing glistening bone through stretched and blackened muscle. The gaping maw of their mouths took up most of the space on their heads. They had no eyes, but it was their never-ending hunger that made the demons formidable hunters and difficult to kill.
Patrick conjured up a mageglobe and filled it with raw magic. It acted like a beacon for the demons, drawing their attention to him rather than the clash of weapons and swearing happening from where Gerard was fighting Ares.
“I can shift,” Sage said, radiating heat from right behind him.
“Not yet,” Patrick said.
She growled, the sound more animal than human. “Patrick.”
“I’m not leaving Gerard.”
He’d never leave his pack, and he’d sure as hell never leave his former captain. Patrick finally raised a shield between them and the soultakers, shaping it into a wall. He pushed Sage back as the demons sank their metal fangs into the shield. The vicious tug of magic siphoning away from his soul started right behind his ribs, making it difficult to breathe for a second.
Sage grabbed his arm and yanked him backward. Patrick nearly tripped over his feet, but her preternatural speed ensured he didn’t lose his footing completely. Ares’ sword cut through the air where they’d just stood, the blade sinking into the floor from the force of the blow.
Patrick twisted his head around, seeing Gerard alive but bleeding from a slice across his torso. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it definitely looked like it hurt.
Sage never stopped moving as she raced for the exit, dragging Patrick along with her. “Drop your shield. I don’t want them draining you.”
Patrick held it up a few seconds longer, long enough for Gerard to take up their six before he tore his magic apart, taking back the portion that wasn’t between a soultaker’s teeth. He could feel the rest of it get siphoned away, the drain in his soul an ache he felt in his bones.
The scrape of metal over tile had Patrick glancing back in time to see Gerard swing the spearpoint of theGáe Bulgin an underhanded arc. Fire erupted, the heat of it scorching as Gerard used it to keep Ares at bay.
Sage bypassed the empty security checkpoint at the main entrance of the Library of Congress and slammed through the front door. She didn’t bother using the handle, merely shouldered through the glass with preternatural strength. Patrick’s personal shields kept him from getting glass shards in the face, pieces crunching beneath his oxfords.
“I’m not dressed for this fight,” Patrick said.
“None of us are,” Sage snapped.
She pitched them toward the stairs that led to the wide brick-and-stone landing that branched out on either side to yet more stairs that would take them to the street. Patrick’s feet barely touched the steps on the way down, but his knees felt it when they finally made it to the empty sidewalks below.
Patrick jerked his arm out of Sage’s grip, managing to get free only because she let him. “Stop.Stop. We aren’t leaving without Gerard.”
Sage spun on her bare feet, mouth twisting into a snarl to reveal teeth so sharp her lips bled when she spoke. “They’re afteryou, and Irefuseto let them have you. We can’t stop.”
Patrick opened his mouth to argue when a soultaker’s scream ripped through the air, the sound eerie and macabre, echoing over the city sounds. Then a flash of light exploded on the landing they’d just left. Patrick managed one step toward the stairs when Sage got a grip on the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him back.
