The flat was empty, like he knew it would be, when they finally arrived. Jono went straight to the bedroom and pulled open the nightstand drawer on Patrick’s side of the bed. Resting beside the empty space where the iron box had been was an old Greek coin, the only one remaining from the multitudes that Hermes had given Patrick last year before the whole mess with summer solstice.
“Jono?” Emma said from the doorway.
“When we were in Paris, Patrick stopped Ilya by using Srecha’s blessing to break the Morrígan’s staff. We came home with a piece of it. Ethan knows we have it. Loki told us in Salem that if Patrick wanted Eloise back, he had to bring them the piece of the Morrígan’s staff. Patrick promised me he’d tell me if he was going to trade it for his grandmother. He told me he was taking the piece of it with him to work today,” Jono said.
Emma stared at him for a long few seconds, all the blood draining out of her face. “Do you think that’s why we can’t get ahold of him? Because he’s trading himself for his grandmother?”
“I don’t know.”
Jono pressed a hand to his chest, wishing he was wrong, knowing he wasn’t because Patrick’s self-sacrificing tendencies were well-known within their pack. It would have been infuriating if it weren’t an essential part of Patrick’s makeup and part of the reason Jono had fallen in love with the man in the first place.
Sighing, he picked up the Greek coin with his other hand, finding it cool to the touch, the edges not perfectly circular, and it smelled ever so faintly of magic.
“The gods have only ever given him weapons. I don’t want him to be without a single one,” Jono murmured, staring at the coin.
An unexpected knock on the front door had his head snapping around. Jono clenched his fingers around the coin, staring at Emma as he dialed up his hearing, listening to the dozen or so heartbeats on the landing. Jono shoved the Greek coin into his pocket and left the bedroom, Emma on his heels. He yanked open the front door, staring at the group before him.
Captain Gerard Breckinridge smiled grimly, dripping water on the landing. He wore a black uniform that wouldn’t be out of place on a battlefield and carried a duffel bag large enough to hold a long gun and other gear. “Jono.”
“Going to let us in?” Sergeant Keith Pearson asked, looking as soaked as Gerard and kitted out just as similarly.
Jono’s gaze jumped from Keith to the man standing on his other side. Ranged down the stairs and to the lower landing, and probably lower than that, was the entirety of the Hellraisers who’d fought with them in Ireland to save Órlaith.
“Patrick said the joint task force was recalling people,” Jono said, gaze flicking back to Gerard.
“We aren’t the only team the Department of the Preternatural is deploying to New York City, but we were the one specifically told to meet up with you and Patrick,” Gerard said.
“So it’s not just the National Guard, then?”
“The Department of the Preternatural is bolstering the National Guard’s forces, even if the general population isn’t aware of that. Our teams are better prepared for something like this over the regular Army, even if it’s not an official deployment of the Army inside our borders.”
“Because you’ve fought Ethan before.”
“Him and his allies.” Gerard rubbed at his jaw with a gloved hand. “General Reed has boots on the ground in Manhattan. He’s in charge, whether anyone will like to admit it on the civilian front or not.”
Jono had only met the dragon masquerading as a man twice, but he wasn’t impressed by the bloke. “He’ll need to take orders from us.”
Gerard arched an eyebrow. “It’s your fight, I won’t deny that, but you don’t have military training.”
Jono tapped two fingers against the center of his chest, a silent reference to the god he carried in his soul. “I don’t need any.”
Thunder erupted overhead, loud enough it made Gerard look up at the ceiling. “The reactionary storm outside is getting worse because the veil is tearing.”
Jono tightened his grip on the doorknob, denting the metal. “I know.”
“You don’t understand. It’s like Cairo all over again, except it’s tearing open from the other side rather than this one.”
Jono swallowed back bile. He knew what waited past the veil. They all did. “I take it that’s worse.”
“Ethan doesn’t need sacrifices here on Earth to keep the veil open if the gods are the ones doing the tearing from their worlds. They won’t stop until everything on the other side of the veil pushes through here. It’s going to be hell. Literally.” Gerard’s gaze moved past Jono, landing on Emma, and he frowned. “Where’s Patrick?”
Jono tried to breathe but found his chest didn’t want to expand all the way, the soulbond unresponsive to his desperate pull. “I don’t know.”
Gerard’s silver eyes went flat and hard. “Tell me everything.”
18
The morning driveinto work was an exercise in white-knuckled driving. Terrible weather made for terrible drivers, and Patrick probably could’ve written a symphony with his horn by the time he parked in the garage adjacent to the SOA field office.
