“It buys us time.”
Hermes gestured at the city behind him. “Time is irrelevant now.”
Patrick’s gaze was drawn to the fog creeping through the skyscrapers of Manhattan, a familiar darkness he remembered from Cairo all those years ago building deep inside the city.
“Bullshit. It’s not Samhain. Ethan can’t break the world until then.”
“Are you willing to bet the world on that?”
“I’ll bet it on my pack.” Patrick stepped closer until he stood toe-to-toe with Hermes. “Ethan has mercenaries in Salem. He hasn’t removed them from the field. Whatever he’s planning, he needs power from that nexus, which means Eloise is probably still in Salem somewhere. Wherever she’s being kept, Hades can take us to her if he isn’t with her already.”
“What makes you think he’d parley with you instead of outright kill you?”
“Because Persephone is coming with us.”
Hermes threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, is she now?”
Patrick smiled, teeth cutting into his lips. “Hades owes his wife too much to piss her off more than he already has. This is how I pay my debt, so yeah, she’ll come. All of you will in the end.”
It was a wild request Patrick wasn’t sure would be granted, but he had to try. The veil was tearing, and they were out of time to stop the end of this whole fucking mess from happening, but they could hold the line on two fronts for long enough to get their people in place. They had to.
“What say you, Ashanti?” Hermes asked, never taking his eyes off Patrick.
“What better weapon to use for the kill than the one you never see sliding between your ribs?” Ashanti asked as she stepped up beside Patrick. “You and yours gave him this task. Let Patrick pay his soul debt how he sees fit.”
“As all heroes ought, yes?” Hermes lifted a hand and dragged his fingers through the air, peeling it apart, wisps of the veil falling away from his touch. He did it with an ease Patrick knew wasn’t normal, because crossing the veil was always difficult, even for gods. It just proved how thin it had been reduced to. “Shall we, Pattycakes?”
Patrick tucked the iron box under one arm before bending over to undo the straps of the dagger and sheath strapped to his thigh and hooked to his belt. Once it was free, he held it up for Ashanti to take.
“Bring this to Jono for me,” he said.
She looked at him with those black eyes of hers, rain falling around her diminutive figure. They were miles and miles away from the desert they’d been in last time when they stood like this, holding a gods-given weapon between them, but some echoes of his past would always find him.
This time, Ashanti wasn’t carrying the naked blade in her hands, passing it to him as she crumbled to dust amidst a sacrificial spell. No heat, no fire, no ash floating on the wind and ground down beneath his fingernails. Only a raging reactionary storm and the end of everything unfolding along the Manhattan skyline bore witness this time to the exchange.
Ashanti wrapped her fingers around the leather sheath, protected from the prayers that could burn even one such as herself. “Good hunting.”
Patrick nodded at Hermes and followed the god through the ripped-open veil and into cold gray fog that washed the world away.
19
The wind followedthem from Earth to the shores of the River Styx, the gray wasteland of the Underworld cast in shadows. Patrick blinked rapidly to try to get his vision to settle, cold even with the heat charms running hot in his leather jacket. He wondered if it was a reflection of the reactionary storm on Earth, but he rather thought this version of a hell was always as cold as a grave.
“Patrick.”
Persephone’s voice came from behind him, a warmth blooming around where he and Hermes stood. He turned to face the queen of the Underworld, steeling himself to meet the goddess’ gold-brown gaze. “Persephone.”
She was dressed for winter despite being a goddess of springtime. The fitted wool coat she wore fell to her knees, and her flat-heeled knee-high boots were covered in the muck of the riverbank, though she seemed not to care. Her golden-brown skin and curly, dark brown hair stood out against the grayness of the world around them.
Persephone had the same-colored eyes as Hermes, and they never looked away from Patrick’s face, her aura burning like a halo around her. “What brings you across the veil when the fight is in the mortal world?”
“I’ve come about a bargain.”
Persephone’s eyes narrowed. “Your soul debt is not up for negotiation.”
“I know. I’m not talking about what I owe you. I’m talking about what Ethan wants. He has Eloise.”
“Yes, I’ve heard her prayers.”
