Blood was iron, it was earth, it was life, and it was death. It could not be denied, and neither could Ashanti’s demands. Patrick let himself be used by her spell like a compass that would always point true north, only instead of finding Jono through his soulbond, he found Hannah through his blood and soul.
Scattered flashes of buildings exploded across his vision as his consciousness was dragged through a blurred cityscape, the library disappearing to sight, replaced by empty streets and flashes of lightning. He could sense how Ethan’s spellwork gripped every skyscraper in Manhattan like the roots of the world tree anchored continents. It gripped him just the same, wrapped around every limb as rain fell onto his face, the ground cold beneath him, the wind white noise in his ears.
In Hannah’s ears.
The echo of where thoughts used to be in his sister’s mind was a cavernous void to his questing soul, the connection there ragged on her end with nothing left to anchor it. Their blood tie was all that was really left to bind them.
For this, it was enough.
Show me.
Ashanti’s voice rolled through his thoughts with the power of a command trigger. Patrick could feel the distance between where he stood and where Hannah lay mapped out in his bones, the way it had always been so long ago when they were children.
He remembered, now, how they’d always been able to find each other until that fateful night in Salem.
When Patrick spoke, blood coated his teeth, was slick on his tongue, but the answer came easy, as sure as the iron holding up the altar of the city they stood in. “The Battery.”
Ashanti pried her magic free of his skin, withdrew her nails from his arm, and licked his blood off her fingers. Jono pulled him back from that insidious edge in his mind, the soulbond anchoring him in his body rather than Hannah’s.
Patrick wavered on his feet, light-headed from the spellwork unraveling from his body, blood still dripping down his arm. Jono held him close and allowed Patrick to lean on him.
“I’ve got you,” Jono murmured into his ear.
Patrick blinked spots out of his eyes, the witchlights burning his vision. He spat blood out of his mouth, breathing through the copper-penny taste of it. When he could see again, he met everyone’s gaze with dry eyes. “Let’s finish this.”
If Ethan wanted a fight at the end of the world, Patrick would give it to him.
25
“Incoming!”someone yelled.
Patrick threw his mageglobes at the onslaught of spells cutting through the air toward their front lines. The strike spells collided in midair and exploded with enough force to rip off some of the bare branches from the trees still standing in Union Square Park. It did nothing to stop some of the Sluagh from attempting another dive at where their side was dug in around the historic intersection.
Nadine expanded her shields upward, the violet-colored barrier forcing the Sluagh back. It prevented the collected soldiers, police officers, and agents’ ability to shoot at the enemy. Patrick conjured up another set of mageglobes, powering them through the soulbond. Jono wasn’t within eyesight, but he was close by, waiting for Nadine’s shields to drop so he and Fenrir could rip apart more zombies.
“We need to break through their line, but we’re losing ground,” Casale said from behind Patrick.
“Half your people are running out of ammunition. You should send them to hole up with the covens,” Patrick said.
Casale hefted a riot baton wrapped in barbed wire that had bits of rotten flesh stuck on the spikes. “They’re equipped enough to provide support for the forces fighting in the street.”
A bright bolt of lightning slammed into the massed group ahead of them, sending bodies flying. Patrick squinted up at the sky, seeing Hinon’s winged outline against the clouds. He was flying low, but soon the Haudenosaunee thunder god was forced into the clouds by a screaming group of the Sluagh. Sheet lightning lit up the sky soon after, followed by thunder so loud it momentarily drowned out the sounds of the battlefield.
War was chaos on the ground, and that was proven true once again amidst the latest battle. Patrick’s group had fought their way south after leaving the Morgan Library. Reed’s people had fallen back to join them, and they’d collected others along the way. Mixed in between all the uniforms were civilian magic users, werecreatures, fae, and other members of the supernatural community. Immortals and gods walked amongst them all, and Patrick hadn’t missed the wonderous looks cast at Thor and Hinon and the others. He had no doubt they’d come away with new worshippers when this was all over.
Spencer elbowed his way between two soldiers, carrying Fatima in one arm. Takoma and a couple of other vampires were right behind, still playing bodyguard for him. “Collins! We have a problem.”
“We have a lot of problems right now. You need to be more specific,” Patrick grunted as he flung another mageglobe through a hole Nadine made for him in her shield.
“This one is coming up from behind. Zombies, and a lot of them. Vampires brought word, but Fatima can feel them as well. I’ll need some support to take them down.”
“Anyone seen Peklabog or Baba Yaga?”
“Not recently, but we haven’t been ranging out to the side streets.”
“Subways?”
Spencer scowled and let Fatima jump out of his arms. “Do I look like I have a death wish? That’s not all though. There were sightings of soultakers in the horde.”
