The declaration was meaningless to almost everyone in the room, but it was the truth, and it’s what drove Patrick to endure the rest of the meeting where Reed and Setsuna fought to drag support from fellow federal agencies. In the end, communication between everyone would remain open, quick-response teams would be on standby in various cities in the Northeast, with a focus on New York City, but Patrick knew deep down it wouldn’t be enough.
Not against the gods and demons of every hell.
When the meeting ended and people started leaving, Wade slipped through the door, walking through the wards Setsuna had set around the room as if they didn’t exist. He ignored the frown Franklin gave him on the way out, the PIA director more aware of Wade’s background than some of the others. Wade proved immune to Franklin’s dissatisfaction.
“You ready to go?” Wade asked. He crumpled up a bag of chips he’d purloined from a vending machine somewhere, proof he hadn’t stayed in the empty conference room Patrick had put him in at Reed’s order. He must’ve slipped his military minder as well.
Patrick checked the time on his phone, calculating how long it would take to get to the airport. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
“Patrick,” Setsuna said.
He sighed as he stood, looking over at where she sat, her carved rosewood cane already in hand. “What?”
“Have you heard from Eloise?”
It was just the three of them in the conference room now, which was probably for the best. Discussing Ethan openly among strangers was something he had no choice in doing. Discussing his mother’s family was far more personal.
Eloise Patterson was the high priestess of the Salem Coven and his grandmother. The matriarch of a powerful and old family of magic users, Eloise was an activist who hadn’t sat back and let life pass her by after her daughter’s death and the supposed death of her two oldest grandchildren. She’d spent weeks since the revelation that Patrick and Hannah were alive trying to reach him.
They hadn’t spoken, only texted and emailed, because Patrick still couldn’t wrap his head around the enormity of being able to make contact with his mother’s family after all these years. When the courts had changed his last name from Greene to Collins, it had effectively severed his past. Over the years, Setsuna had made it clear he couldn’t contact them for his own safety, and he’d accepted that order.
She had never said why, and he always thought it was at the behest of the gods. Only now he couldn’t be sure, and he wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation.
“I’m seeing her next week,” Patrick said, stepping away from the table.
Setsuna frowned, and he wasn’t sure if the worry in her eyes was for him or the situation unfolding around them. “Be careful.”
“You should probably take your own advice. You’re the one she’s pissed at.”
Setsuna’s signature was on the government documents in his juvenile file, accepting Patrick as her ward. She’d kept silent for over two decades about his status, and from what he’d gleaned by the few interviews Eloise had done over the last month or so where Patrick was concerned, his grandmother’s wrath was focused squarely on Setsuna.
Ethan might get her hate, but Setsuna got her fury, which was something to witness in interviews coming from an octogenarian.
Wade tugged on Patrick’s sleeve, easily hauling him along. “Let’s go. I want to get dinner before we get on the plane. The vending machine choices here were crap.”
“You were supposed to stay put,” Patrick reminded him.
“I did! I stayed put in the Pentagon.”
“There’s a car and driver waiting for you out front. Have a safe flight home,” Setsuna said.
Patrick nodded his thanks and then spent the next ten minutes herding Wade out of the Pentagon. When they finally stepped outside the main entrance, visitor passes turned in to the appropriate people, it was raining, the late-afternoon sky dark with storm clouds.
“I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain again today?” Wade asked as he peered through the downpour for their promised ride to the airport.
Patrick stared at the clouds, unease settling in his gut. “Weather changes.”
He could only hope the storm wouldn’t follow them back to New York.
3
Jono lookedup from wiping down the bar counter as a familiar heartbeat cut through the buzz of conversation. He caught a glimpse of Patrick’s dark red hair in the crowd of werecreatures, magic users, and a few fae filling Tempest. He caught Sage’s eye and nodded at the seat she’d been saving at the bar for him.
“Pat’s here,” he said.
Sage lifted her designer tote bag off the seat in question and hung it on the hook under the bar counter. Seconds later, Patrick slipped free of the crowd, hauling himself onto the empty barstool. He and Wade had flown back home from DC last night, and Jono had been the one to pick them up. An early week, out-of-state meeting didn’t mean Patrick was taking time off from work. He’d been working out of the SOA field office downtown but had promised to make the Wednesday night pack meeting.
“Hey,” Patrick said. “How’s it going?”
