Patrick looked back at the god, blinking against the bright shine of his cracked-open aura. Everything smelled too sharp in his nose right now after all the lightning strikes. “Not just to save our asses, I take it?”
“I promised you that I and mine would fight when called to war. You have yet to ask.”
“It isn’t Samhain yet.”
“The veil still tears, and I would see my promise fulfilled.”
“Brilliant,” Jono muttered. “We’ll keep in touch.”
He grabbed Patrick by the shoulder, hauling him toward the house. The mud was slippery underfoot, and Patrick could either get dragged along willingly or dig in his heels, and he’d never not go where Jono led.
When he looked back over his shoulder again, Gwyn ap Nudd was gone.
Probably for the best, considering the police sirens ringing through the air, coming ever closer. Nadine lowered her shields as they approached, then bent over to brace herself on her knees, breathing hard. Patrick hurried to her side, kneeling to get a look at her pale face, curling one hand over the back of her neck.
“You with me?” he asked.
“Fucking migraine,” she muttered, eyes squeezed shut as blood dripped from her nose. She reached up to pinch her nostrils shut, trying to stem the flow.
“Let’s get inside.” Patrick looked up at everyone on the porch, skin crawling from their attention. “They should have some potions you can take.”
Nadine’s mouth screwed up in a grimace. “I’ll eat a bottle of Tylenol if you let me.”
She straightened up, and Patrick moved his hand to her hip as he guided her through the mud back to the house. No one had gone back inside yet, and Patrick pointed at the shattered glass doors he’d been knocked through.
“Get inside,” he ordered as Nadine got a foot on the first step.
For a wonder, everyone obeyed without arguing. Madelyn paused just past the shattered glass doors inside the home, one hand outstretched toward them. Magic sparkled at her fingertips before she made a fist.
“Be welcome once again,” she said with a formality that was recognized by the threshold.
Nadine gave a jerky nod before steeling herself to step inside. The threshold didn’t push her out, which was good because Patrick didn’t really want to have the upcoming conversation in the rain.
Patrick and Jono were the last to make it inside, with Patrick kicking aside the broken glass so Jono didn’t tear open his bare feet and need to shift again.
“I’ll get towels,” Madelyn said, pale-faced and already moving.
Some of Patrick’s cousins huddled together around the table, staring at them as he guided Nadine to the couch. He kept a hand on her shoulder in a steadying gesture as she sat, catching Finley’s eye.
“Do you have potions in the house? Anything for backlash by chance?” Patrick asked.
“Yes, but what just happened?” Finley replied.
“Potions, or I’ll go ransack the nearest medicine cabinet.”
“I’ll get it. Gran keeps plenty in her workroom,” Easton said, hurrying out of the living area.
He bypassed Madelyn as she came back from somewhere with clean towels in hand, which she passed to Jono, politely keeping her eyes above his waist. She offered one to Patrick, who took it and wrapped it around Nadine’s shoulders. Neither of them was too soaked due to her shield, but Nadine dried off the dampness anyway.
“Cheers,” Jono said as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “I’ll go get my clothes.”
“Stay put. The police are on their way, and I’m betting the SOA agents that were on guard duty are going to show up soon. You walk out like that and you’re liable to be held at gunpoint,” Patrick said.
Jono rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting interrogated in a bloody towel.”
Patrick dug out his cell phone from his back pocket, glad to see it had survived the fight mostly intact. The top right corner was cracked, but it still worked. “You’re not getting interrogated at all.”
Jono huffed in irritation before digging his fingers into Patrick’s front pocket to snag the car keys. Then he tossed them to Brittany, who managed to catch them after a brief fumble. “There’s a duffel bag in the boot of the Mustang outside. Please go get it.”
