Jono knew the packs still weren’t used to how he and Patrick governed—which was as fairly as they could, and within public view. They didn’t play games, didn’t play favorites, and absolutely refused to require any pack alpha to fight another to win what they wanted. Every rule that Estelle and Youssef had built up over the years had been immediately jettisoned upon their taking over.
That fairness was a problem for some of the packs, specifically the ones who had prospered under Estelle and Youssef’s rule, but Jono and Patrick weren’t changing the way they did things. Anyone who had a problem with their orders could piss off.
Shaking his thoughts away, Jono focused on work. He kept the drinks flowing with his bartenders on shift, stopping to chat here and there with werecreatures who needed his opinion. Both the upper and lower levels of the bar were open, and it was busy for a Wednesday. The crowd started to thin out the closer it got to midnight.
Jono wasn’t staying to close up, no longer obligated to now that he owned the place, but he still stuck around on some nights. Patrick had to work tomorrow though, and he’d been hiding yawns behind a water glass for the past hour.
Jono put the last rack of clean glasses onto the shelf and turned around. “Ready to go?”
Patrick shoved himself off the barstool. “Yeah. I’m parked a block away.”
Jono made his way to the employees-only room near the back to retrieve the jacket he’d worn to work earlier. He’d taken the subway, despite feeling uncomfortable inside the tunnels. The city was almost finished fixing the span of tracks that had been damaged when a subway train was derailed by demons and magic in August. The notoriety that came with his new position meant getting a taxi or a ride-share pickup was nearly impossible these days.
He shrugged on the jacket, signed off on a couple of restocking forms, and headed back into the main area. Patrick was already waiting for him by the front entrance, mobile in hand as he thumbed through some emails.
“I think we took care of everything that needed to be dealt with tonight,” Patrick said.
Jono leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Never thought being a god pack alpha would require giving so much therapy. I’m not licensed for that.”
“You’re licensed for alcohol.”
“That’s not a fix.”
Patrick smiled crookedly. “I know. It probably wouldn’t be like this if we were taking over from anyone else.”
The dearth of problems they needed to fix and the people they were responsible for clamoring for attention was exhausting but hopefully not insurmountable.
Jono grabbed Patrick’s hand and guided him out of the bar. The cold wind slapped him in the face when they made it outside, and he ducked his head against the strong breeze. The wind had picked up since he’d started work earlier, blowing fiercely over the street and creeping inside his jacket. He followed where Patrick’s feet led them, enjoying what passed for quiet in a major city.
“When do we meet with your grandmother?” Jono asked, finally able to broach the subject. It was one thing to chat about pack issues in public, quite another to delve into Patrick’s past so openly.
Patrick shrugged one shoulder with a tight motion. “Next Wednesday. We’ll need to designate Sage as proxy if you insist on going.”
Jono tightened his hold on the other man. “What part ofwedid you miss? I’m going, Pat.”
Patrick snorted softly, but he smelled relieved rather than annoyed, and Jono took that as a win. Jono tugged Patrick closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They didn’t talk on the walk to the Mustang. Jono had one eye on the street around them when the sharp tang of ozone cut through the air, driven by the wind. It filled his nose, coating the back of his throat, the warning nearly making him gag.
Patrick jerked to a hard stop, body stiffening. “Fuck.”
Jono’s attention snapped to the pair of large black ravens perched on top of the Mustang, talons scratching the paint, staring at them with eerily intelligent eyes. Corvids weren’t strangers to the city’s streets, but Huginn and Muninn were something else entirely.
“What do you lot want?” Jono growled.
Muninn spread his wings, head cocked so the immortal could look at the night sky.Do you sense it, Vánagandr? The end is coming.
Are you ready?Huginn asked.
Odin’s ravens launched themselves into the sky without waiting for an answer. Jono followed their trajectory with unblinking eyes. Beyond the shadowy spots of darkness that were the pair of immortals, high above, what looked like sheet lightning flickered in the dark depths of the low-hanging clouds.
Patrick shoved Jono toward the car, fear spiking in his scent. “Move.”
“Is that—?” Jono began as Fenrir stirred deep in his soul.
“Yes, so fucking move.”
Patrick’s curt response got Jono moving. He hurriedly climbed into the passenger seat as Patrick got behind the wheel. The rumble of the engine starting couldn’t drown out the warning cries of the Sluagh as the terror of the Unseelie Court crossed the night sky above Manhattan, momentarily breaking free of the clouds before letting the storm hide their presence again.
“We need to meet with the Dagda,” Jono said grimly.
