Saoirse stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and Wade could feel the vibrations of Riordan’s disbelieving laughter against his body.
“I don’t know what’s worse. That you convinced Lucien to be your attack dog or that you walked into a Night Court and convinced theothermaster vampire to do the same. Did you even have backup?”
“Yes,” Riordan muttered, clearly listening in.
“Ella and some of her pack were with me, and so were the selkies. I know you’re stuck in DC, but Iamhandling things here,” Wade said.
Patrick let out a snort. “It’s vampires. I’m going to worry.”
Wade knew why that was the case, and it warmed him a little to know that the care from years ago when they first met was never going to go away. Despite it all, he decided against telling Patrick that Niall was possibly a low-ranked, prayed-into-being god because then he’d definitely leave DC for Boston.
“I can handle them. I handled Takoma’s Night Court in Seattle just fine.”
“I know, but I feel like you should have backup.”
“You can’t ditch your job.”
“Watch me.”
“I’m fine. Really. If anything gets worse, I’ll let you know, but I’m not alone out here, and I need to help Ella and Riordan.”
“All right,” Patrick said after a moment, clearly fighting the urge to get on a plane to Boston. Wade knew that tone in his voice. “I’ll tell the others I spoke with you and that I’m staying in DC, but you better pick up your phone when any of us calls next time. And I want you to update Jono twice a day on what is going on. If he doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours, he’ll be coming to Boston.”
Ella would definitely not like that, but Wade also knew Jono wouldn’t care about niceties if he had to come to Boston. Jono was very protective of his pack. So was Patrick, but between the two of them, Jono was the one who didn’t mind ripping people’s throats out with his teeth.
“Got it. Have fun annoying the director.” Wade ended the call, set his phone on the table, and grabbed his beer. “Good news, which you all probably heard. Patrick isn’t coming to Boston.”
“I don’t know if that’s good if we could use the backup. Your pack certainly has a reputation,” Saoirse said.
“Niall doesn’t know you’re New York City god pack,” Riordan said.
Wade shrugged, letting Riordan take more of his weight. It earned him a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, making him want to preen. “He’s not going to know until I eat the bastard.”
Wade had gone toe-to-toe with plenty of gods before and survived. In a range of godheads, Niall wasn’t all that powerful—if he even had one. But he was corrupt and he was a bastard, and Wade was going to enjoy crunching the fae between his teeth.
He wouldn’t even complain about the taste this time.
Donal popped up at the table just then, looking harried. “Boyo, it’s your turn to talk sense into Merv.”
Riordan rubbed his hand over Wade’s shoulder, who took the hint and sat up. “What’s he done now?”
“Drank the rest of the Guinness we ordered for June and insisted it was part of the May inventory. It’s going to take at least a week for our supplier to get us a replacement shipment of kegs. We’ll need to buy bottles from the packies to get us through the next few days.”
Riordan stood, and Wade immediately missed having him close. “I’ll talk to him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wade said.
“You don’t want to wait for your food?”
“It’ll be quick, right? Besides, I’ve never met a clúrachán before.”
He knew he had mangled the name, but neither of the three laughed at him for it. Riordan just took him by the hand and led him deeper into the bar to a door with a fadedEmployees Onlysign nailed to the wood. They shouldered through it, stepping down a creaky wooden staircase to a cold, brightly lit basement.
“Merv?” Riordan called out.
“Oi, I told your brother the inventory is fine” came the response from deeper in the basement, followed by a loud belch.
“How much inventory do you lose to Merv?” Wade asked.
