A Veiled & Hallowed Eve

by Hailey Turner

  Wade stretched out his long neck and roared, spitting fire at the Dominion Sect magic users and hunters blocking their way down Broadway.

  “I said zombies and soultakers!” Patrick yelled up at him, pointing in the direction of Park Avenue.

  Wade blew smoke at him before flapping his wings hard to get airborne. The wind stole most of the smoke, but some of it filtered down to where Patrick stood. He coughed, ducking his head against the downdraft, and headed back to the front line that had apparently gained ground with Thor’s help.

  Thor was using Mjölnir to throw lightning at hunters while the Night Marchers wreaked havoc through the enemy ranks. It was a two-pronged attack, because the Night Marchers weren’t bothered by the lightning bolts and were hell-bent on going after the demons riding souls.

  “Where did you send the fledgling?” Thor asked when Patrick made it to the god’s side.

  “We got zombies and soultakers coming up on our six. He’s got orders to go to town on them,” Patrick said.

  “Where is Peklabog? He and Baba Yaga would be the best to handle the dead and those particular demons.”

  “Last time anyone saw them was at Grand Central Station.”

  “I’ll find them,” Hermes said.

  Patrick wheeled around to find the Greek messenger god slipping out of the veil, startling more than one nearby federal agent. Luckily, no friendly fire occurred.

  “Is Salem still standing?” Patrick asked.

  Hermes shrugged. “Mostly.”

  “Great. We need Peklabog and Baba Yaga to help us with our walking dead problem. I don’t care what they’re doing, just bring them here.”

  Hermes’ gaze flicked past Patrick, focusing on something behind him. “You need more help than that.”

  Patrick really didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t afford not to. Facing south again, he caught sight of what was causing almost everyone around him to look afraid.

  Marching up Broadway and University Place came ranks of fae belonging to the Unseelie Court. Goblins and trolls, spiderlike beings, winged and not, the vast array of fae were hideous in appearance, well armored and well armed.

  Riding astride a Ceffyl Dŵr at the front of the group on the left was Medb. The Queen of Air and Darkness was dressed for war, as was the fae riding to her right. Cairbre Nia Fer raised his sword aloft and made a slashing gesture with it, causing the fae to split ranks and spread out in a maneuver that Patrick recognized.

  “They’re going to box us in,” Patrick said.

  Hermes let out a derisive snort. “They’re going to bury you.”

  “Had enough of that lately, thanks.”

  The Sluagh broke away from their aerial battle with the valkyries and flew through the air to gather in the sky above their queen. Hinon and the valkyries regrouped above Patrick’s side of the fight as the ground shook from the marching of the new arrivals.

  Weaving through the ranks of the fae on the right-hand side of the square were packs of black jaguars that Patrick was pretty sure outnumbered the werecreatures on their side. Leading them was Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec god’s feathered headdress unencumbered by the rain. He was joined by Santa Muerte, the goddess’ shroud creeping outward like a river of darkness ready to swallow them all whole.

  “I,” Patrick announced to anyone who might be listening, “seriously don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

  “To me, my daoine sídhe!” Órlaith shouted from further down the line, her voice ringing like a bell over the panicked shouts from their side.

  Thor smacked the side of Mjölnir against his palm, expression grim. “Where is the Dagda?”

  “Oh, you know politicians. They talk a good game but are shit at the actual grind,” Patrick said.

  “I will handle Medb,” the Cailleach Bheur said, seemingly arriving out of nowhere. The blue-skinned goddess wrapped both hands around her staff, the tip where it rested on the ground spreading ice beneath her feet. “Who else comes, Hermes?”

  Patrick turned around in time to see the lazy salute Hermes gave her, unperturbed by the icy glare sent his way.

  “Everyone has been called, but few can be spared. Shiva is helping Osiris hold back Náströnd along the shoreline. Hart Island has been emptied of its dead, and Hel has command of the bodies. Montu stands guard at the Brooklyn Bridge against Seth. Those of his pantheon on the side of the heavens have taken up watch at all the crossings over the Hudson River and the East River,” Hermes said.

  “Does anyone have an army they can spare? One that isn’t dead?” Patrick asked.

  “You have gods. We will be enough.”

  Hermes stepped back through the veil, leaving coldness in his wake. Jono took his place, eyes burning white with the presence of Fenrir. More than one nearby soldier took a few steps away from him.

  “We must break their line,” Fenrir said.

  “Easier said than done,” Patrick replied.

  They were outnumbered in terms of bodies and firepower. The dead just kept coming, aided by immortals and gods who’d chosen Ethan’s side of the war. At some point, the creeping exhaustion Patrick and others were doing their best to ignore would overwhelm their side. Their people needed rest, but it was out of reach right now.

  “Yield and your deaths will be quick,” Medb called out, her voice carrying through the air to be heard by everyone.

  “Fuck no!” Gerard angrily shouted back.

  His defiance was echoed by dozens of voices and howls. The only thing louder was Wade’s roar as he spat dragon fire at the zombies coming up behind them. Spencer’s magic danced over the horde Wade was fighting, and Patrick hoped the other mage could keep them at bay.

  Medb didn’t bother with a response to Gerard’s answer. She gestured with her sword, and the fae of her Unseelie Court surged forward with preternatural speed. Tezcatlipoca’s jaguars slid between the fae like liquid shadows, wrapped up in Santa Muerte’s shroud.

  Patrick’s heart rate ratcheted up as he yanked free his dagger from its sheath and conjured up some mageglobes. He tapped the soulbond, glancing over at Jono and the god who’d taken over his wolf form.

  “Stay close,” he said.

  Fenrir gape-grinned at him. “I go where the battle leads me.”

  “If you get Jono killed, I’m shoving this dagger through your throat.”

  Violet shields cut through the oncoming fae in an unpredictable pattern as Nadine used her magic to funnel the enemy into numbers their side could hopefully handle. Reed shouted orders that had soldiers moving position and bringing everyone else with them who were used to military commands.

  The result was groups scattered around the plaza and intersection facing the monument and park, with magic users up front and those with guns standing behind. The setup hopefully reduced friendly fire hits.

  “Here they come,” Patrick said.

  The Seelie fae with Órlaith followed her and Gerard into battle, leading the charge as Medb’s fae finally broke free of the maze of shields Nadine had created. Patrick didn’t know how long she’d be able to hold them up with so many gods in the mix. He only hoped someone was in place to watch her six.

  Thor charged forward with a thunderous war cry, swinging Mjölnir in an arc that sent lightning stabbing outward. The leading push of fae and jaguars coming their way couldn’t dodge the hit. The fae were thrown off their feet, bodies smoking, while the jaguars shattered into millions of pieces of obsidian. When the airborne fae finally landed, they were trampled by their own side.

  Off to the left, Kū led the Night Marchers at a cluster of hunters that broke free of Nadine’s shields. The gods acted as individual breakwaters against the enemy, capable of handling more than the mortals behind them.

  The Sluagh outnumbered Hinon and the valkyries in the sky. Hinon’s great wings crackled with lightning that danced against the clouds above as the Haudenosaunee thunder god led the valkyries into aerial battle once more.

  Nadine’s shields flickered before suddenly
shattering, falling victim to Santa Muerte’s shroud and the shadowy spears of darkness that slammed through her magic. The maze of defensive magic keeping Medb’s forces in a manageable group disappeared. Patrick only hoped whatever backlash she was hit with wasn’t terrible enough to put her out of commission. But a god’s attack was different than mortal magic or weaponry.

  Unencumbered, the Unseelie fae ranks surged forward, a wave of death they couldn’t possibly escape from. Patrick threw his mageglobes high into the air, aiming for the deeper ranks rather than the front line so as not to hit anyone on their side. Fenrir charged forward with an ear-splitting howl, and Patrick could only follow, dagger held in his right hand, the matte-black blade burning bright.

  Jaguars peeled free of the crowd and headed their way, but Fenrir intercepted most of them, tearing the constructs to pieces. One got through, and Patrick aimed a mageglobe down its throat. The construct exploded from the inside out, and obsidian shards flew through the air like shrapnel. He spun on his feet, managing to sidestep a jaguar and catch it in the side with his dagger.

  The construct’s roar was like breaking glass that faded when it shattered. Patrick’s combat boots crunched over obsidian shards as he sent a strike spell at the troll staggering toward them, holding what looked like an entire uprooted tree in its hand. The troll swung the tree in an overhead strike, but before it could hit the ground and anyone standing there, a rocket-propelled grenade slammed into his chest.

  The explosion of body parts sent bone and blood and meaty flesh flying through the air. The rest of the troll collapsed, tipping over backward as the tree fell to the ground. The earth vibrated from its landing. Patrick ducked his head against the bloody rain and slammed a mageglobe into a group of spider fae clacking their way over a dead hunter to his position.

  Nadine’s shields reformed in quick snakelike bursts, creating room for them to fight in. The battle lines had blurred, which meant when Patrick finished clearing his immediate area of Unseelie fae and turned to look for Jono, he shouldn’t have been surprised at coming face-to-face with Tezcatlipoca, but he was.

  “Oh, shit,” Patrick breathed out, taking a step back.

  The Aztec god wore traditional clothing and a gold headdress decorated with obsidian and jade. The colored heron feathers a meter in length that were attached to the headdress had yet to be torn out by the wind. His right foot was carved from polished obsidian, shiny like a mirror and all the pieces of his constructs they’d destroyed so far.

  “You took what belongs to me,” Tezcatlipoca said, his godhead shining through his aura.

  Patrick held his dagger between them. “Wade? Yeah, you can’t have him, so fuck off.”

  Tezcatlipoca lunged at him, mouth open wide around teeth that would’ve looked more at home in a jaguar. Patrick stood his ground because there was nowhere to run, but he didn’t have to go toe-to-toe with the god because Jono handled it for him by ramming Tezcatlipoca to the ground. Jono’s teeth flashed in the scrum, and Patrick thought he’d get the upper hand, but that was before Tezcatlipoca started shifting.

  “Fall back!” Patrick yelled, scrambling to get out of range. “Everyone, fall back!”

  He remembered how large Tezcatlipoca was in his jaguar form, how the god had destroyed the Crimson Diamond. Jono seemed to remember as well, sticking with Patrick over continuing the fight. The form that Tezcatlipoca took was larger than any earthly jaguar could ever hope to become and deadly enough to turn the tide of the fight before they even made it to the Battery.

  The spider fae hurtling itself toward them from the right was cut in half by Kū’s shark-teeth-lined spear. The Hawaiian war god stepped up beside Patrick and pointed his weapon at Tezcatlipoca in a warning manner.

  “Get out of our way, cousin,” Kū ordered.

  “I think not,” Tezcatlipoca snarled.

  He opened his mouth and roared, the nightmarish sound louder than the thunder from gods and the reactionary storm.

  It was not, however, louder than Quetzalcoatl’s answering roar that shook every building surrounding Union Square.

  Patrick’s head snapped around, gaze locking on the new arrival. The feathered serpent god flew over the buildings north of them, wings dipping low in greeting to Wade. Breaking free of the clouds behind him came the entirety of the Wild Hunt led by Gwyn ap Nudd.

  Jono’s teeth snagged the hem of Patrick’s leather jacket, and he found himself being swung around and dragged from the line of fire. He got the hint. Let the gods fight each other; he had no desire to be caught up in that crossfire.

  The shadows of twilight grew darker as Quetzalcoatl dived low. Patrick spared a glance over his shoulder in time to see Tezcatlipoca launch himself at his brother, and the two rose into the air, grappling and fighting each other. Around the pair, the Wild Hunt and the Sluagh clashed together, the screams and battle cries of spirits mixing with thunder.

  That was one portion of the battle Patrick didn’t have to worry so much about now that Gwyn ap Nudd was leading the charge. They were still hemmed in on the ground though, and he had no idea how they were going to break free.

  Jono and Patrick fought their way toward the center of the fight in the plaza, following the blazing light the Gáe Bulg let off like a beacon in Gerard’s hands. Patrick’s former commanding officer fought like a berserker, but he still knew who they were. The handful of Hellraisers watching his six were keeping well clear of the reach of his spear.

  “We need to break through Medb’s line,” Patrick said, ducking beneath the wooden claws of a spriggan. Jono bit the fae in half and spat out wooden chunks.

  “She has both streets blocked, and Broadway is the most direct path downtown from here,” Gerard said.

  “So we go through.”

  Gerard rammed the butt of his spear into the eye of a fae hard enough it exited out the back of their skull. Gerard pulled the weapon free with a grunt. “We need more manpower than what we have available.”

  “It’s a little late to try for a strike team entry.”

  A violet shield slammed down around them and expanded outward. The fae beyond the barrier crashed to the ground, rolling over each other as Nadine double-timed it to their position, wiping away blood dripping from her nose.

  “Backlash?” Patrick asked her.

  “Had worse,” Nadine said, sounding out of breath. “Reed wanted me to tell you the zombies are breaking through, but that Wade managed to eat most of the soultakers.”

  Patrick winced. “Most still means there are some out there. There’s nothing on our side that can easily take them out.”

  Nadine pointed at the sky. “Gods can.”

  Something exploded at the cloud line like a mini supernova, lighting up Union Square as if it were midday for a couple of seconds.

  “They all seem a little busy,” Patrick said. “Where the fuck is Hermes? He was supposed—”

  Patrick was cut off by the piercing sound of a horn blowing. The pulsing notes sounded like a call to arms, one Gerard knew well judging by the surprised expression that crossed his face. The fae in their immediate area reared back, giving ground and regrouping. Patrick couldn’t see anything through the bodies around them, but the ground trembled like an earthquake was rolling through Manhattan and had no intention of stopping any time soon.

  Ice spread like a freezing river over the buildings on East and West Seventeenth Street, winter sending a chill through the air that made Patrick’s teeth chatter. The Cailleach Bheur’s touch was impossible to miss, as was the crossroad that opened up in the middle of Manhattan. It shouldn’t have been possible, not through the iron that surrounded them in the form of buildings. Except the veil was as thin as it ever would be on Samhain.

  Brigid and her Seelie Court marched out of the crossroad from Tír na nÓg, bringing with them the warmth of spring that refused to fade beneath the reactionary storm and a thirst for battle that would not be denied.

  26

  In the chaos that followed Brigid a
nd the Seelie Court’s arrival, Jono hoped the fighting on the ground would turn in their favor. Fenrir rumbled agreement through his mind as they fought their way back to where Sage stood guard over the command barricade. Reed was barking out orders into a small scrying crystal, smoke drifting out of his nose.

  “Brigid is on the field,” Patrick shouted as he skidded behind the barrier, Jono on his heels. “We need to break through their line. When that happens, my pack and I will head down Broadway.”

  “We still have soultakers on the field,” Reed warned.

  Jono stared at where Wade was crouched, breathing fire at the zombies still shambling their way. Occasionally his long neck snaked down so he could snap at something on the ground and chomp on it.

  “I can’t stay here.”

  “The end begins. Can you not feel it?” Fenrir asked, causing more than one soldier and police officer surrounding them to stare. Jono could smell their fear but also their wonderment, a mix that stemmed from realizing myths were real and gods walked the earth again. It wasn’t the first time he’d smelled it past the veil like this.

  Reed scowled, teeth sharp in his mouth. “There’s nearly fifty blocks you still need to fight your way through. Your pack won’t be enough to get you there in time.”

  “We’re a strike team, the same way the Hellraisers were at the end of the Thirty-Day War. We’ll be enough,” Patrick protested.

  “You’ll hit resistance and detours without us.”

  “Pity the subways are full of the dead, Pattycakes. The trains would’ve been nice, but I brought you the next best thing,” Hermes said.

  Jono shifted on four legs, turning to eye Hermes as the messenger god slid free of the veil, one hand tightly gripping the wrist of another god. Fenrir growled a greeting that was met with a smile by the newest arrival.

  “Heimdallr,” Fenrir said. “Does the Allfather come?”

  “Odin fights the Fallen south of here,” Heimdallr said, gaze steady. The pupils of his pale blue eyes were ringed with a thin rainbow of color, and they seemed to stare right through Jono.