Leon elbowed him to get his attention, offering up a beer. Jono took it with a nod of thanks, his tacos now finished. He pried the cap off the bottle and tossed the bit of metal into the bin.
“The alliances will hold through Samhain. That’s what was promised, and it includes the covens,” Jono said.
Emma pointed her fourth taco at him. “I still don’t know how you pulled that off.”
Jono shrugged. “The Crescent Coven was willing to work with us after the fight in Brooklyn. The Wisteria Coven lost their clout after the bollocks they pulled with the Dominion Sect, so any pushback has been minimal.”
They still didn’t know what the exact rite was that had been performed in the Ritz-Carlton the night of the challenge fight in Central Park. All they knew was that Cernunnos had stolen Patrick’s blood to perform the spell after drawing life out of every park in the five boroughs and breaking through the cliff roses barrier laid down by the Greek gods last year.
The fallout within the covens was a realignment of power that Jono couldn’t follow and didn’t much care about outside the fact that it gave his pack more support. The Crescent Coven worshipped Hera, and as much as he loathed gods, he at least knew that Greek goddess was on their side of the fight. The Wisteria Coven was not, as proven by their dodgy decisions.
With Patrick’s federal standing still on shaky ground, even with his badge returned, he hadn’t been able to oversee the Ritz-Carlton case, only review the files after the fact under the auspices of the joint task force. The cleanup by the Dominion Sect that time had been far more thorough than the one that had happened in Chicago earlier in the year. Still, they knew the rite had to be a fertility one, but the underlying spellwork was unknown.
That they’d stolen Patrick’s blood to do it was a worrisome connection. Jono knew Patrick’s soul was still somehow tied to Hannah’s. He’d blocked it as much as he could, unable to risk opening himself up in that way. Jono only hoped their soulbond was strong enough to override a frayed and dying tie to keep Patrick safe.
Trying to plan for the inevitable without knowing the playing field left Jono anxious and worried in a way he wasn’t used to. For now, they could only shore up their outside support and hope it would be enough, even if he had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be.
“Any news from the government?” Marek asked, finally putting down his mobile.
“Nothing of note,” Patrick said carefully. “Have you seen anything?”
Marek shook his head, mouth twisting wryly. “The future is a black hole right now.”
It was a far cry from the time an angel had taken over his mind and used him as a temporary prophet to issue a warning. It cost him every shade of blue, and the vision of a graveyard he’d come away with was a sinister warning Jono didn’t ever want to come to pass.
“Wade wanted me to ask about the weather,” Sage said before taking another sip of her wine.
Wade wasn’t there tonight because he was underage, and there were too many eyes on Tempest these days to sneak him in. Jono was the owner of the bar now and bound by the drinking age laws of his adopted country. Wade couldn’t be present for a meeting in Tempest without risking the alcohol license.
“It’s raining,” Leon said dryly.
“He said it feels off.”
Patrick made a face, the expression half-hidden behind his whiskey glass. “He mentioned the weather yesterday in DC. It seemed fine to me.”
But Wade was a fledgling fire dragon, sensitive to the natural world in ways he was still learning to understand. If he said the weather felt off, that was another problem they’d have to keep an eye on.
Sage propped her elbow on the bar counter to rest her chin in her hand. “Maybe we reach out to some weather witches, then? See if it’s a reactionary storm?”
Patrick shrugged. “The weather would be worse if it was a reactionary storm. Like a hurricane stalled over land.”
“Not much we can do about the weather, then.”
“Plenty of stuff we can do about everything else.” Jono caught Patrick’s eye. “When do we meet with the Night Courts?”
“Saturday evening,” Patrick said with a long-suffering sigh. “I told Wade he didn’t have to go, but he insisted he wanted to be there.”
“Are we all going?” Sage asked.
“We can manage that meeting if you’ll manage the fae.”
“Deal.”
Jono gazed at the crowd, noticing the looks thrown their way, which meant people were waiting to come up and chat. He raised an eyebrow at Patrick. “We still have some pack business to get through. You all right with taking over for a bit?”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Whoever’s next, let’s do this.”
Someone broke free of the crowd, a tall woman who was almost immediately joined by another woman. They scowled at each other, but when Patrick turned around on his stool to hear their grievance, they kept their voices even.
