That was one portion of the battle Patrick didn’t have to worry so much about now that Gwyn ap Nudd was leading the charge. They were still hemmed in on the ground though, and he had no idea how they were going to break free.
Jono and Patrick fought their way toward the center of the fight in the plaza, following the blazing light theGáe Bulglet off like a beacon in Gerard’s hands. Patrick’s former commanding officer fought like a berserker, but he still knew who they were. The handful of Hellraisers watching his six were keeping well clear of the reach of his spear.
“We need to break through Medb’s line,” Patrick said, ducking beneath the wooden claws of a spriggan. Jono bit the fae in half and spat out wooden chunks.
“She has both streets blocked, and Broadway is the most direct path downtown from here,” Gerard said.
“So we go through.”
Gerard rammed the butt of his spear into the eye of a fae hard enough it exited out the back of their skull. Gerard pulled the weapon free with a grunt. “We need more manpower than what we have available.”
“It’s a little late to try for a strike team entry.”
A violet shield slammed down around them and expanded outward. The fae beyond the barrier crashed to the ground, rolling over each other as Nadine double-timed it to their position, wiping away blood dripping from her nose.
“Backlash?” Patrick asked her.
“Had worse,” Nadine said, sounding out of breath. “Reed wanted me to tell you the zombies are breaking through, but that Wade managed to eat most of the soultakers.”
Patrick winced. “Most still means there are some out there. There’s nothing on our side that can easily take them out.”
Nadine pointed at the sky. “Gods can.”
Something exploded at the cloud line like a mini supernova, lighting up Union Square as if it were midday for a couple of seconds.
“They all seem a little busy,” Patrick said. “Where the fuck is Hermes? He was supposed—”
Patrick was cut off by the piercing sound of a horn blowing. The pulsing notes sounded like a call to arms, one Gerard knew well judging by the surprised expression that crossed his face. The fae in their immediate area reared back, giving ground and regrouping. Patrick couldn’t see anything through the bodies around them, but the ground trembled like an earthquake was rolling through Manhattan and had no intention of stopping any time soon.
Ice spread like a freezing river over the buildings on East and West Seventeenth Street, winter sending a chill through the air that made Patrick’s teeth chatter. The Cailleach Bheur’s touch was impossible to miss, as was the crossroad that opened up in the middle of Manhattan. It shouldn’t have been possible, not through the iron that surrounded them in the form of buildings. Except the veil was as thin as it ever would be on Samhain.
Brigid and her Seelie Court marched out of the crossroad from Tír na nÓg, bringing with them the warmth of spring that refused to fade beneath the reactionary storm and a thirst for battle that would not be denied.
26
In the chaosthat followed Brigid and the Seelie Court’s arrival, Jono hoped the fighting on the ground would turn in their favor. Fenrir rumbled agreement through his mind as they fought their way back to where Sage stood guard over the command barricade. Reed was barking out orders into a small scrying crystal, smoke drifting out of his nose.
“Brigid is on the field,” Patrick shouted as he skidded behind the barrier, Jono on his heels. “We need to break through their line. When that happens, my pack and I will head down Broadway.”
“We still have soultakers on the field,” Reed warned.
Jono stared at where Wade was crouched, breathing fire at the zombies still shambling their way. Occasionally his long neck snaked down so he could snap at something on the ground and chomp on it.
“I can’t stay here.”
“The end begins.Can you not feel it?” Fenrir asked, causing more than one soldier and police officer surrounding them to stare. Jono could smell their fear but also their wonderment, a mix that stemmed from realizing myths were real and gods walked the earth again. It wasn’t the first time he’d smelled it past the veil like this.
Reed scowled, teeth sharp in his mouth. “There’s nearly fifty blocks you still need to fight your way through. Your pack won’t be enough to get you there in time.”
“We’re a strike team, the same way the Hellraisers were at the end of the Thirty-Day War. We’ll be enough,” Patrick protested.
“You’ll hit resistance and detours without us.”
“Pity the subways are full of the dead, Pattycakes. The trains would’ve been nice, but I brought you the next best thing,” Hermes said.
Jono shifted on four legs, turning to eye Hermes as the messenger god slid free of the veil, one hand tightly gripping the wrist of another god. Fenrir growled a greeting that was met with a smile by the newest arrival.
“Heimdallr,” Fenrir said. “Does the Allfather come?”
