“Yeah, using blood magic. Our snipers confirm there are active spells on the hostages in the room, most likely controlled by Javic. We don’t know what will happen to them if we give the green light to take him out.”
Jono wanted to punch something. “Did the sniper see if Patrick was affected?”
“He didn’t appear to have any active magic on him, but we can’t confirm,” Casale said slowly.
“That doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“When I spoke with him, he seemed annoyed but didn’t let on about anything that might have been done to him. I told him to call me back in twenty minutes so I can get on scene and have the call set up to record. I’m almost there.”
“How close are you?”
“Why?”
“Because we’re at the police line.”
Casale let out an aggravated sigh. “Of course you are. You do realize this is a matter for the police, not your god pack?”
“Patrickispart of our god pack, which makes it my business. I want to know what’s going on as it’s happening.”
“I’d say you don’t have clearance for a situation like this, but I remember the Battle of Samhain. I’ll call in the permission to let you through. Where are you at?”
Jono rattled off the cross-street as he and Wade reached the corner, catching the attention of one of the uniformed police officers on duty there. “Call it in quick because we’re not going anywhere.”
Casale didn’t bother with responding to that and simply ended the call. Jono tucked his mobile away into his back pocket and shoved his sunglasses on top of his head. He stared down the approaching officer, who hesitated for half a step once she got a good look at Jono’s eyes.
“God pack,” the officer said, sounding only a little wary with just a faint trace of fear in her scent.
“Casale is clearing us,” Jono said brusquely.
“You could always let us through anyway,” Wade said hopefully.
The officer shook her head, one hand resting on her holster, but she didn’t draw her weapon. “You know I can’t do that.”
Wade opened his mouth to argue, but Jono nudged him lightly in the ribs. “We’ll wait for Casale. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Wade scowled at the police officer, practically vibrating in place with the urge to go after Patrick, but he stayed put. Jono dialed up his hearing a little, trying to parse the conversations happening further down the street. More police vehicles were pulling up, adding to the crowd. A SWAT team arrived moments later. Jono watched those officers leave their vehicle behind and hurry down the street toward the ever-growing group of officers in uniforms and others who weren’t.
Jono and Wade were the only civilians in the area by the time another officer jogged toward them, chevrons on their sleeves, marking them as a sergeant.
“Jonothon?” the officer asked, a little out of breath. “Casale asked me to come find you.”
Jono didn’t bother waiting and instead walked right past the officer who’d been keeping watch on them, Wade right on his heels. “Take me to him.”
This officer didn’t reek of fear and wasn’t as skittish as the other one, which made Jono believe he was probably part of the Preternatural Crimes Bureau. Those officers dealt with the preternatural and supernatural communities far more often than others in the NYPD. The lack of fear directed toward them was nice, but the scent of it in the air near the mobile command the NYPD had set up was sour in the back of his throat.
The sergeant led them up the metal stairs into the mobile command. Space was tight, and voices talked over each other at a fast clip. Officers and SOA agents huddled in tight knots around several desks, but the only person Jono cared about was Casale.
The commissioner had more gray in his dark hair than when Jono had first met him, wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, face weathered from years working the streets of New York City. After the Battle of Samhain, Casale’s wife had urged him to take a step back from uniformed duty. Casale used to be chief of the PCB and maybe once had aspirations for chief of department of the entire NYPD, but being the commissioner was a nice intersecting position that kept his family happy.
Jono could understand wanting to do right by the community they served but still come home to the people who loved them. Taking over the New York City god pack had been a daunting choice way back when, but he’d never regretted it.
“Casale,” Jono said by way of greeting, catching the older man’s attention.
Casale looked up from the table he was huddled around, peering past a few officers to meet Jono’s gaze. “Jono. Still no news. We’re waiting on Javic to call.”
“So the plan is to just wait? No one is going to go in and confront him?”
“It’s a hostage situation. Moving on his location risks the hostages, including Patrick.”
