Wade snorted, picking up a blueberry and putting it into a waffle square. “Had some pack business after we closed down the bar, and then some ifrits tried to mess with my favorite food cart outside my place.”
Patrick frowned at him, the redhead reaching for the syrup to pass that over. “What were ifrits doing on your block?”
“Trying to start a shakedown business. I don’t think they knew it was my block.”
“Are they dead?”
“I’d be even later if they were because I’d probably be calling from the PCB.”
Patrick made a contemplative sound before drinking his coffee. “Casale wouldn’t let you get processed for something like that.”
“He’s no longer bureau chief of the Preternatural Crimes Bureau.”
“No, he’s just the police commissioner now.”
Their god pack had open communication with the New York Police Department through Casale these days. After the Battle of Samhain, the last act of the outgoing Mayor Doyle Ferbenn—the human identity for the Dagda—had been to appoint Casale to lead the NYPD, not just the PCB. Out of everyone who could’ve taken over that role after the Battle of Samhain, Casale was top of the list, and no one on either side of the political divide had complained about it, even several years on.
Wade finished fixing Lillian’s waffle and handed back her fork. “One square at a time.”
Lillian stabbed her fork into a square topped with a strawberry and whipped cream and shoved it into her mouth, smiling around it. Wade snorted and took the plate Sage had made for him that she passed over. “We’re expected in Central Park in thirty minutes, so eat fast.”
Emma Zhang laughed from the other side of the table. “Like you need to tell Wade that.”
Wade tossed a blueberry at her, which she leaned back in her chair to catch in her mouth. Beside her, Leon Hernandez did Wade a solid by passing over the coffee carafe so he could pour himself a mug of what was Kona by the smell of it.
Emma and Leon lived on one of the lower levels in the mansion, co-alphas of their Tempest pack. They’d owned the bar that held their pack’s namesake before gifting it to Jono to help him establish a business for his residency in the States. Wade still thought Jono and Patrick should just get married. The paperwork seemed a lot simpler that way.
“Who’s babysitting my girl?” Wade asked.
“We are,” Leon said.
“Linh is proxy while we’re all gone for a week, but we’re not advertising our absence,” Jono said as he stole some bacon off of Patrick’s plate.
“It better only be a week. I need to be in DC for that trial, and Priya wants me to consult on a new case, but the evidence she wants me to review is restricted to SOA headquarters,” Patrick said.
“You’re the one who told Gerard we’d accept his wedding invitation, no matter when or where it was.”
“I couldn’t tell himno. I just thought he’d hold it somewhere in Ireland, not past the veil.”
Wade liked former Captain Gerard Breckenridge. The half-fae immortal-born Cú Chulainn had been a huge help at the end of the world, but Wade also liked the way he could piss Patrick off. He found it hilarious. The rest of the Hellraisers, Patrick’s old Mage Corps team, hadn’t been half-bad either.
What Wade didn’t much like was going past the veil. Every single time they’d done so, it had been because of a fight. He just hoped Gerard’s upcoming wedding to Órlaith wasn’t going to devolve into a feud of some sort. Wade had been assured they’d all get to eat the food without it impeding their ability to get home, and he was looking forward to dessert.
“Chew faster,” Sage said, looking at her watch.
Everyone dug in, shoveling food into their mouths and finishing their breakfast quickly. Wade cleaned his plate before Lillian finished hers, but he stayed at the table when everyone else left to gather their things. Their wedding clothes would be carried over in garment bags, but Wade let Sage handle all of that while he kept Lillian distracted from the fact they would be leaving.
Going past the veil always messed around with time. Spending a day in Underhill would have them losing a week or more in the mundane world. It would be the longest time spent away from Lillian for Sage and Marek, as one of them typically tried to stay behind with her, even with the pack on hand. Gerardhad allowed a plus-one for Sage and Wade, and Marek had decided to come along.
Wade didn’t have a plus-anything at the moment, and he was fine with that. He still had one more year of college before he’d earn his BA in Humanities, and Wade had no desire to get sidetracked any more than he already had during and after the Battle of Samhain. Being in college was always a nice excuse for whenever General Noah Reed inevitably called him up every six months or so to see if he wanted to join the military and be trained by an actual dragon. Wade kept hanging up on Patrick’s old superior officer, wondering when the other dragon would figure out the answer was, and would always, beno.
He’d done his time fighting, both with his pack and when he’d been forced to as a young teenager in order to survive the wrath of a god. Wade’s therapist had given him the green light years ago to say no to whatever he didn’t want to do, and he was going to stick to that. Reed could keep listening to the silence of an ended call.
“I have your clothes,” Jono said when he wandered back into the dining room, two garment bags draped over one arm and a Louis Vuitton duffel bag held in the other.
Wade glanced down at Lillian’s almost empty plate. She still had her fork clenched in one little hand, but she’d been poking at his phone for the last couple of minutes, watching a cartoon. “I think she’s done.”
“Playtime?” Lillian asked, looking away from the screen and giving him a sticky-looking smile.
