Jono set a glass of Macallan 18 Year down in front of him. “Busy.”
Jono had already presided over nearly two dozen small territory issues amongst the packs. Keeping the boundaries updated between packs that had switched loyalty from Estelle Walker and Youssef Khan’s god pack to theirs early on and those who reluctantly came under their protection and command after the challenge fight in Central Park was a headache on the best of days.
Fenrir made sorting out trouble amongst the packs easier. Having an animal-god patron riding his soul and capable of knowing the intent of the werecreatures who showed throat before him made it clear who would ultimately cause trouble in the long run. Jono and Patrick had already barred three packs from New York City after they won the challenge fight. That wasn’t even counting the god pack members who had either fled the city or been arrested.
Estelle and Youssef might be dead, and Patrick’s ties to the werecreature community might have upended the cases against the pair, but the government was still investigating their mess. Jono had been interviewed half a dozen times since the end of August by the federal government. Sage had worked with Danai Belvedere, their previous criminal defense attorney, to help guide his responses.
They weren’t in the clear and wouldn’t be for a long while yet. Jono and Patrick might hold New York City as their territory, but that didn’t mean all the packs within itlikedeach other or them. Territory disputes weren’t just going to disappear because they took charge, but the hostility had definitely dampened a bit in the face of Fenrir’s presence.
The traditional god pack territory up in Hamilton Heights remained empty as of now. Jono and Patrick weren’t leaving their flat in Chelsea, and in the future, when other god pack members eventually joined them, they’d need someplace to house those members. A four-member god pack, even one backed by a god, wouldn’t be strong enough to handle all the problems a territory this size brought. But growing their god pack was at the bottom of their list and would remain there until they dealt with the issues of Ethan, the Dominion Sect, and Patrick’s soul debt.
Patrick sipped at his whiskey, turning a little to scan the bar. Jono took a moment to clean up his area while Patrick settled in. They’d agreed some weeks ago to conduct most of their god pack meetings in public. The transparency was needed after the secretive and brutal way Estelle and Youssef had ruled over the packs for years.
It helped that Patrick’s past was now out in the open. Some things they still couldn’t talk about, like their soulbond, but many of the secrets they’d been forced to keep no longer needed to be hidden.
That didn’t make ruling easier.
“I have tacos,” Emma Zhang announced as she claimed the empty stool on the other side of Marek Taylor.
Marek kept tapping away at his mobile, scowling at the screen. “Good, because I’m starving.”
“Then put away work and eat.”
Jono stepped away to pour a couple of drinks for some customers. When he returned, Emma handed him a Styrofoam container, which he took with a quick smile.
“Ta,” he said.
Patrick had already demolished one of the street tacos in his container. Jono flipped open the lid on his own dinner and picked up a carnitas one.
“Any new sightings of hunters?” Patrick asked around a mouthful of food.
“New Jersey,” Emma mumbled, wiping a bit of salsa off her chin with one finger.
“Eh, it’s Jersey. That’s not our problem.”
“Spoken like a true New York City transplant,” Leon Hernandez said as he sidled up beside Jono to pull a beer from the refrigerator under the back counter.
“They’ll become our problem soon enough. Bet you anything,” Sage said.
Patrick snorted. “I know better than to bet against you.”
“The hunters are still a problem we need to keep an eye on,” Jono said pointedly.
He’d prefer the bastards all be murdered if they stepped one foot inside their territory. After what had happened to Patrick with Andras, Jono had no interest in mercy when it came to the Krossed Knights and other hunter groups. He was very much in the camp ofkill first, leave the bodies where they liewhen it came to demons these days.
Patrick’s scent took a slight dip toward anxiousness before leveling out. His damaged soul and magic left a bitter edge to his scent, one most people didn’t like. It had never bothered Jono, but what was new was how the scent was more constant than it used to be.
When Patrick had lost the shield anchors, he’d lost the ability to keep up permanent personal shields without draining himself dry. That meant he only shielded when he had to. The change meant Jono could parse his emotions easier than in months past. Patrick was still uncomfortable with the pack reading his emotional state on a constant basis, and Jono tried not to intrude too much.
When it came to talk of demons and hunters, Jono wanted Patrick to know he wasn’t alone. Patrick still blamed himself for the wounds Jono had taken in the challenge ring at Andras’ hands in Patrick’s body. The distinction there was black and white to Jono, but getting Patrick to believe that was still a struggle.
“We still have our alliances with the Night Courts and the fae,” Patrick said.
Sage sighed. “For now.”
With only a couple of weeks until Samhain, most of their time was caught up in trying to prepare for a fight they knew was coming; they just didn’t know the full parameters of what it would look like. Where and when and how were all terrible unknowns that left everyone stressed-out and trying to guard all sides, not knowing if it would be enough.
Jono was in agreement with Patrick about New York City becoming ground zero. It’s why, when they’d asked for support from other god packs, they’d instructed all volunteers to come here and nowhere else.
