It was a far cry from the last time Patrick had been summoned to Washington, DC, for a joint task force meeting. He rather preferred the tension he’d sat through back then with a handful of people than the suffocating accusatory pressure filling the room now.
“Ethan hasn’t tripped any red flags outside the country, nor has anyone else in his inner circle,” CIA Director Erin Batey said, her voice echoing slightly through the speakers.
The screen flickered slightly at the edges. The amount of magic encircling the room here and in other locations meant the electronic connection was on the fritz. Patrick wondered if they should’ve brought out the scrying crystals.
“That doesn’t mean he’s inside our borders,” FBI Director David Morrison said.
“Disregarding what happened in London and Paris, the Dominion Sect has focused their efforts here in the United States over the last few years.” Reed glanced at Patrick, who stared stonily at him. “We have reason to believe whatever they ultimately have planned will happen here.”
“Here being millions of square miles with no definitive location in mind. That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“Considering Ethan’s past history and desires, we believe the Dominion Sect will focus on the Atlantic Seaboard, most likely in the Northeast. New York City is a strong contender for confrontation,” Setsuna said.
“And you came about that information how?”
The SOA’s in-house problems with Dominion Sect sympathizers had put the agency on the outside looking in for too many years. Even with Setsuna working hard to clean up that mess, trust wasn’t easy to come by in the intelligence community.
“The same way all of you come to conclusions. By studying the information at hand.”
Morrison wasn’t the only person to glance at Patrick. His shoulders tightened beneath their attention, but he kept his face impassive in the wake of their silent suspicions. Being the son of a terrorist wasn’t ever a forgivable offense, despite the fact Patrick carried the scars on his body and soul that showed just how little Ethan thought of him.
Patrick was a means to an end for a lot of people—Ethan, government officials, gods, take your pick. Patrick had a soul debt to pay, and what he owed filtered into every aspect of his life. There was no escaping that truth, even after he cast off the lie he’d lived under for so many years back in August.
The people in the room with him saw Ethan as a threat, driven by delusions of grandeur. Of them all, only Setsuna and Reed believed in the truth of Ethan’s actions—that he vowed to finish what his family had sought for generations. Turning himself into a god was the stuff of myths, but all myths had been history of a kind at some point in the past, whether humanity deigned to remember them as such or not.
Patrick didn’t have a choice in being part of Ethan’s story. His soul debt was owned by a goddess whose daughter was dying in Hannah’s soul and body. The people sitting in for this meeting might know his history, but they still didn’t know all his secrets, and he wasn’t about to confess to any of what he’d carried with him over the years.
Reed was right in that they wouldn’t believe in myths and legends as fact. Patrick doubted that would change even if they witnessed the presence of gods with their own eyes.
“Your agency’s information over the years hasn’t been the best, as evidenced by the way you kept your agent’s identity a secret,” Erin stated coolly.
Setsuna finally set down the report she was reading, turning her head to stare at Erin’s face in a square on the television screen. “The SOA isn’t the only agency in this room who has made excuses for agents under their command. Don’t throw stones in glass houses. Yours will shatter just as surely as ours.”
“We brought all of you on board on orders from the president,” Reed said, drawing everyone’s attention before the argument could devolve. “Your assistance is needed, but not your attitudes. Most of you deal with mundane problems, not magical or preternatural ones. We’re the experts here in terms of knowing what the threats boil down to. When we tell you our best bet to winning is sitting at this table, then accept that as fact. Collins isn’t going anywhere, and the president is in agreement with that.”
“Who asked the president for that clearance?” Franklin demanded.
Reed glared at him. “I did.”
Setsuna glanced at Patrick before letting her gaze sweep the room. “We’re on the same side here. Our number one priority is the safety and security of our nation. Ethan and the Dominion Sect are a threat that requires support from all agencies. Whatever they are planning, it will end on October thirty-first. That’s two and a half weeks away, and we need to be ready.”
“For what?” Erin asked.
Patrick thought sayingthe end of the worldwas a little ridiculous, even if true, so he settled for “To fight.”
His words drew everyone’s attention. At any other point in his life, he might have wilted beneath the stares of so many powerful people in government, but that was before he’d spent the last sixteen months standing his ground with the support of his pack.
“Ethan cast a sacrificial spell at the end of the Thirty-Day War. Odds are he’ll do it again until he gets what he wants. Ilya Nazarov has in his possession a powerful artifact that can raise the dead, as witnessed in Paris. I know what Ethan is capable of. I’ve fought against him for years. If ground zero happens this time on American soil, then we need to be ready. That means pooling our resources, guarding every nexus, and being ready to move at a moment’s notice,” Patrick continued.
“And what do you bring to the table?” Franklin asked, shades of derision in his tone. “Your god pack?”
Patrick had to consciously unclench his jaw. “Mine, and others. Werecreatures are better equipped to fight the dead and demons. I saw that when I was in the Mage Corps, and it was a hard fact on the streets of Paris. We’ve asked god packs across the nation for volunteers to help support our efforts. Reed is aware of the request.”
“We’re stationing those packs in New York City,” Reed said before anyone else could protest. “They’re in the process of arriving within the next week or two. We want them in place before the end of the month. Collins will be our liaison with them.”
“Of course he will be. And what does he get out of it?” Morrison asked, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice.
Patrick brushed his fingers against the hilt of the gods-given dagger strapped to his right thigh, the self-soothing gesture hidden by the table. He opted to ignore the barb directed at his pack and answer broadly. “My life back.”
