“Sage shouldn’t have let him do the wedding cake tasting. He’s still hyped up on all the sugar.”
“He’s Riordan’s problem for now.”
The subway train screeched into the station, the sound making Jono dial down his hearing so he didn’t go deaf. He held out his hand to Patrick, who took it, and hauled the other man to his feet. They left the train behind for a half-packed platform. It was a little after twelve, and Jono knew they’d be fighting the lunch rush to get a table anywhere in Chinatown.
They came up to the street level, and the smell of food mixed withexhaust in the air. The bright signs and awnings were in a mix of English and Chinese. Tourists and New Yorkers crowded the sidewalks, the buildings rising up over the street a mix of residential and businesses that was common in Manhattan. Jono kept close to Patrick as they made their way to their pack’s favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant on Bayard Street.
David Liu—the owner who just so happened to be a fêng huang—greeted them with a wide smile. “Welcome back! I’ve only seen your names come through for takeout lately.”
“We’ve been a little busy,” Patrick said as they squeezed past people gathered near the front door, waiting for a table or their order to go. Most of the tables were taken, but someone in the corner was packing up their food and looked to be vacating the spot soon.
“Yeah, I saw the news,” David said. “You want your usual?”
“Ta, mate,” Jono said.
“I’ll send the order to the kitchen. Give me a minute to clear a table.”
It wasn’t long before they were seated. Jono would feel bad about cutting in front of others, but David’s restaurant catered to the preternatural and supernatural communities more than it did tourists. People knew who they were in this city, and no one typically raised a fuss.
David came back out of the kitchen, nodding at the server passing by before stopping at their table to deposit two already opened Tsingtao beers in front of them. Condensation beaded on the glass, the lone fan in the corner whirring away. David didn’t mind the heat the same way Wade didn’t, fire being intrinsic to their natures. People didn’t come to this place for the atmosphere though; they came for the food.
“Some of your dishes will be out in a bit,” David said. Considering the number of plates they always ordered and the amount of food Jono alone could put away, he knew it would take some time to get everything ready. “You’re not coming through for anything I need to keep an eye on, are you?”
“We’re escaping a morning trapped in jewelry stores,” Patrick said before taking a long swig of his beer.
David raised an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”
“Only if Wade was with us,” Jono said. Maybe it was a good thing Sage had put Wade in charge of the cake and not the wedding rings.
David didn’t pry, but his gaze dropped down to their hands, a contemplative look on his face. “Well, good luck with your search. Hope you find what you need.”
“He knows,” Patrick muttered once David left.
Jono eyed him calmly. “Drink your beer.”
It wasn’t going to be a secret for very long. Packs were exceptionally good at keeping secrets, and theirs were determined to keep this out of the local gossip mill. But Sage had promised a week, and Jono had faith in her to pull off the seemingly impossible. She was determined that way, and Jono wouldn’t change that for anything.
Their food came eventually, piping hot and full of spices. They had Chinese broccoli in oyster sauce, chow mein, fried rice, kung pao chicken, Sichuan beef, and, since they were there during the dim sum period, several orders of har gow, xiao long bao, and sheng jian bao. They chatted amiably about things thatweren’tabout the wedding. It was casual, and they weren’t rushed.
A couple of tables near them turned over, but the one in the opposite corner kept its diner. The Chinese man kept glancing over at them, a plastic takeout bag on the table beside his half-empty plate. He didn’t smell nervous or fearful—in fact, he didn’t smell like anything at all. That caught Jono’s attention, and he was prepared for anything—a fight, an insult—just not the offer they were given as they finished up their last few bites of food and the stranger stopped by their table.
“Excuse me,” the man said in faintly accented English. “If you are looking for something unique, I own a jewelry store down the street. You could come see?”
He seemed hopeful, not threatening, but Jono still couldn’t get a scent off him at all. The man seemed mundane human, but Jono knew appearances could be deceiving. He also knew David had a nose for those who were trouble and never allowed it past his door.
Patrick knocked his foot against Jono’s under the table. “It won’t hurt to look.”
“We have time,” Jono replied. If the man pretending to be human became a threat later on, at least they’d know where to look for him.
The man nodded happily. “I will take you there.”
They didn’t have any leftovers, which Jono made a point to tell Wade by taking a picture of all their empty dishes. He got back a string of emojis that made him chuckle before he put his mobile away.
Patrick got the bill paid but left the fortune cookie on the table. They exited the restaurant, finding the jeweler waiting for them on the sidewalk. In the sunlight, he looked even younger than Jono first thought, with thick black hair and dark brown eyes. He still had no scent, which was incredibly off-putting.
Jono stuck close to Patrick as they followed the man to a store with a green awning above it and a banner in the window that said Under New Ownership. The jewelry displayed in the window wasn’t on the typical trays seen in other jewelers in Chinatown but on small, velvet-lined pedestals.
A bell overhead jangled when the door was pushed open. Inside the store was brightly lit, and there was a young woman with long black hair behind the counter, bent over a small worktable with a jeweler’s eyeglass on.
