“We need to go back to New York,” Patrick said.
“I’ll get us there,” Gerard promised.
Hermes spread his hands and nodded at Madelyn and Brittany. “I’ll see these two behind a threshold. Persephone won’t speak to me for decades if I let her high priestess die. I’ll join you in New York once they are safe.”
It was probably the kindest thing Hermes had ever done for Patrick, but really, it was to the god’s benefit more than anyone else’s. Persephone could hold a grudge if the way she’d frosted out Hades over the years as if she was a goddess of winter and not spring was anything to go by. Patrick didn’t doubt she’d blame Hermes for any grievance she took on behalf of her followers, and the messenger god still had to work with her in the Underworld.
“Ku!” Gerard called out. “Gather your warriors and let’s go!”
The Hawaiian war god lifted his spear in silent acknowledgment, letting out a fierce cry that served to draw the Night Marchers to his position. Gerard hefted theGáe Bulgwith both hands and used it to carve open the veil.
The rush of cold air that followed the fog spilling into the cemetery made Patrick’s teeth ache. It looked as if it didn’t take any effort at all to open the veil, and that didn’t bode well for what they’d find on the other side.
“Is it Samhain?” Patrick asked.
“It’s Tuesday night. Samhain is three days away,” Madelyn said.
Gerard rotated his spear around, gripping it with just one hand. “It took us almost a day to reach you. It could be longer than that this time when we go through.”
There was only one way to find out.
Patrick stepped up to grab Gerard’s shoulder strap on his Kevlar vest, still holding his dagger. “Let’s go.”
Keith grabbed Patrick by the jacket collar as the rest of the Hellraisers lined up to pass through the veil, Ku and his Night Marchers taking up the rear. Gerard spared a glance over his shoulder to see that everyone was accounted for before plunging into the tear between worlds, and Patrick could only follow.
22
A perpetual twilighthad fallen over Manhattan, making it impossible to figure out what day it was or even the time. The drifting fog, the unceasing rain, and the stormy sky above that never changed left them fighting in a strange stretch of timelessness. The one silver lining of that dodginess meant the vampires weren’t bound by a sun because it didn’t rise and didn’t set and didn’t seem to exist at all in the new world Ethan was trying to build in increments.
It had been a hard fight downtown to get to where they were after they’d left Tempest pack territory by Central Park. A couple of hours’ respite in some apartment buildings across two blocks that were being shielded by covens and the Cailleach Bheur hadn’t been enough time to drive the exhaustion out of Jono. He could only run on adrenaline for so long, could only ask the same of those fighting beside him, before it became too much.
It didn’t matter that he carried Fenrir in his soul. The god could do nothing with a body incapable of going on.
A streak of shadows up ahead in the fog caught Jono’s eyes, but he kept walking. He could smell who it was. Ashanti had ordered some of the vampires with them to scout ahead and around their constantly moving position. Not all of them had returned over the hours, something Jono knew Lucien would hold against their pack if any of them turned out to belong to his Night Court.
Takoma landed on the road some meters ahead with a fellow vampire. The Native American vampire straightened from his crouched position, eyeing Jono before giving a respectful nod to his mother.
“The military is set up on the Park Avenue Viaduct up ahead. Their concern seems to be Grand Central Station,” Takoma said.
“Why?” Ashanti asked.
Takoma flexed his hands, his nails more like claws. “It smells dead.”
“Zombies,” Spencer said grimly.
“The subway’s protective wards are broken. It would be easier to move the dead through the tunnels than the streets, even with trains in the way,” Nadine said.
“This is not where we stand our ground. We must keep moving,” Órlaith said from astride her steed.
“I could use a restock on our way through Midtown,” Spencer said, glancing down at his rifle.
Nadine nodded. “Me too.”
Jono huffed and started forward again, not blinking at the glittering violet shield Nadine raised in front of his nose. Despite knowing that whoever waited up ahead had to be on their side, Jono couldn’t stop wondering about the safety of his pack. The soulbond was quiet, and Jono didn’t know where Sage or Wade were, if any of them were safe and alive. But Jono couldn’t let himself dwell on the terriblewhat-ifsplaguing him. That helped no one, least of all the people he was fighting with or for.
They trudged through the rain, weaving around abandoned vehicles, shoving some aside to create space for the fae’s steeds to more easily move through. The fog shifted around them, wind peeling it away from the road ahead.
They’d reached the Park Avenue Viaduct between Grand Central Station and a hotel. As Takoma had reported, the road teemed with soldiers and police officers. Thunder rumbled through the air so loudly that Jono could feel the vibrations in his paws as he walked forward with Nadine and Spencer to his left, while Ashanti kept pace on his right. He’d yet to shift back to human since they’d left the Upper East Side, letting Fenrir speak for him when he needed to give orders.
