Patrick turned to look at the god, lips pulled back in a mocking smile. “You never fought for her.”
Truth was a blessing or a curse, and no one ever truly liked to hear it, least of all a god. Hades let go of Patrick’s shoulder to backhand him across the face so hard the world went slippery and sideways, the burn of foreign magic chasing him into blackness.
20
No one sawthe sun rise over New York City on what might have been Tuesday morning.
Cold gray fog covered the world in a layer so thick Jono could barely even see Central Park out of the window of Sage’s and Marek’s home. The sun was impossible to make out through storm clouds that still churned somewhere above the fog, casting Manhattan in a darkness more reminiscent of twilight. Cars remained abandoned in the street, and a strange, eerie quiet had settled over the city, broken only by the howls of things that were definitely not werecreatures.
Jono turned away from the rain-streaked windows, taking in the mess that had become of the living area. Crates of weapons hauled over last night by Lucien’s Night Court were scattered on the floor, the tops peeled back, and their inventory laid out on any available flat surface. Gerard’s Hellraisers had brought their own gear, but it paled in comparison to what Lucien could provide.
After the Hellraisers’ arrival at the flat in Chelsea yesterday, they’d left for the Upper East Side. They hadn’t gone far when the veil started tearing and all electronics died. It had been a mad dash crosstown through crowds of panicked people who would’ve been safer home and behind a threshold. It reminded Jono a lot of Paris, and he wondered if that had been a dry run for this.
Probably, knowing their luck, but at least he knew what fighting in the streets would be like. The only difference was Patrick and how he wasn’t there. Thinking about his lover made Jono’s heart speed up with worry.
He still hadn’t heard from Patrick since their call cut off yesterday. The soulbond had gone tight and cold the way it always did when Patrick was beyond the veil. It hadn’t snapped back into place until sometime before dawn, the tightness of the connection hinting at the distance. They were city and states apart, but the distance wasn’t as bad as when Patrick had been in Chicago. The general direction was northeast, and Jono knew Patrick had to be in Salem, but there was no bloody way he could leave the city now.
Every bridge and tunnel leading into Manhattan had been closed off and barricaded by the military in the outer boroughs as the torn edges of the veil settled over the city. His pack was even more scattered than before because there was no easy route downtown to Bellevue, and Jono had no way to contact anyone. At least Gerard seemed to know what needed to be done in a situation like this.
“The National Guard and active-duty soldiers out of the Department of the Preternatural have made it to New Jersey across the Hudson. General Reed couldn’t tell me if they’re able to get across since we don’t know if the scrying crystals are compromised,” Gerard said from his spot on the sofa.
“I bet the public isn’t keen about that.”
Gerard shrugged. “I’m not questioning the support.”
“The soldiers might question what they see when things go to shit.”
“They’ll obey orders.”
“Let’s hope so.” Jono eyed the flat, beveled crystal sitting propped up on the coffee table that was far larger than the one he remembered looking at in Tiarnán’s car last year. “Pity there’s not more of these things. They’d come in handy right now.”
“This one belongs to Brigid. The one at the Pentagon had to be taken out of the Repository. There aren’t many available outside Tír na nÓg, and my queen is still a bit pissed about the ones in mortal hands.”
“Her loss, our gain.”
Gerard smiled thinly. “Don’t ever say that where Brigid can hear.”
“Pissing off the gods is more Pat’s wheelhouse than mine.”
Gerard’s smile faded away. “Still no news?”
Jono grimaced and shook his head, resisting the urge to press a hand over his heart where the ache of the soulbond had centered. “We can’t talk through it. We get emotions sometimes, and a general direction of where the other is, but nothing that would help us right now.”
“Do you still think he’s in Salem?”
“It’s the likeliest possibility.”
But it wasn’t a solidyes, and Jono couldn’t send people on a wild goose chase when he wasn’t sure they’d even make it out of Manhattan alive in the first place. He had enough problems right now worrying about the rest of his pack and those under his protection.
When Patrick had described how the fighting had gone down during the Thirty-Day War, they’d agreed to have the packs work together with the fae, covens, and Night Courts in designated areas. Everyone would keep clear of Central Park and the subways. They’d concentrate on city blocks, much how they had done in Paris. The SOA and the military would get folded into their defenses along the way under Reed’s orders.
A distant, heavy pounding caught Jono’s attention, and he dialed up his hearing. The sound came from the building’s front door floors below. Gerard appeared to hear it as well, but none of the other Hellraisers did.
“Expecting anyone?” Gerard asked as he stood, grabbing his long gun where it rested on the coffee table.
“The packs know this is where we’re staging the fight in the beginning and should remain together where they are. It could honestly be anyone.”
Groups of police officers had been out during their trek crosstown yesterday, trying to corral crowds. It had been a losing endeavor in the storm, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there again patrolling. Electronics might not work, but guns and magic certainly did.
