Jono looked up when Wade Espinoza came barreling through the front door, arms laden down with plastic shopping bags nearly overflowing with snacks. The nineteen-year-old fledgling fire dragon hopped on one foot while trying to keep his balance as he kicked the door shut behind him.
“Am I late?” Wade wanted to know.
“Did you clean out a bodega?” Jono asked.
Wade sniffed haughtily as he came over to where everyone lounged in the living room of the apartment Marek and his fiancée, Sage Beacot, called home. “’Course not. I left the vegetables.”
“Just for that, we’re making you eat double portions of vegetables tonight,” Patrick said, not looking up from his mobile.
Wade flopped down onto an empty armchair and immediately started digging into his bags. “Gross. I’m allergic to vegetables.”
“You’re allergic to actual food, mate,” Jono said, raising an eyebrow at the candy bars and bags of crisps spilling into his lap.
Wade ignored them both, sorting through his hoard of snacks with a happy look on his face. Jono opted not to argue about the merits of real food over processed junk food and looked over at Sage. Their pack’s dire was furiously tapping away on her laptop, a slight frown marring her pretty face. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a chignon to get most of it off her neck in the hot weather, and she hadn’t bothered to change out of the pantsuit she’d gone to work in. She had kicked off her high heels though, and the Louboutins were tucked under the coffee table.
“Okay, I’ve emailed Tiarnán about needing time off. I don’t think it will be a problem,” Sage said.
She set her laptop on the coffee table, her diamond engagement ring catching the light. Sage was a partner at Gentry & Thyme, a fae-owned and -run law firm whose managing partner was their contact for the Seelie Court. Tiarnán had helped broker their alliance with the fae and followed through whenever they needed assistance. Jono was always uncomfortably aware at how easy it would be to owe the fae beyond the terms of their alliance, so they tended to let Sage do the talking.
Their dire could play word games as well as any fae, but it was her steely resolve and calmness in the face of adversity that made Sage the rock he and Patrick leaned on every day. Luckily, Tiarnán knew what was at stake, and his firm was more than willing to cover Sage’s cases when she needed to be with them.
“We had cake tasting planned for this weekend,” Marek said with a mournful sigh from where he lounged beside Sage on the smaller sofa.
Wade’s head snapped up. “Cake?”
“Wedding cake decision, and no, you don’t get to come,” Sage told him.
“But Sage, it’s cake.”
“You have enough Twinkies in your bags that you basically have a full cake,” Leon Hernandez said as he came back from the kitchen with a beer.
Wade looked Leon dead in the eye while digging out a packet of Twinkies and opening it slowly. He shoved the entire snack into his mouth and chewed with bulging cheeks. “Doesn’t taste like wedding cake.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Wade,” Sage told him while Leon laughed.
Leon and his partner, Emma Zhang, were the co-leaders of the Tempest pack, some of Jono’s closest friends, and the ones who handled access to Jono’s time with other packs when Sage was busy. Their bar that Jono managed was neutral territory for his god pack, but a target where Estelle and Youssef were concerned. Packs went there to socialize and work out problems between each other, but it had been the site of attempted vandalism lately that was as much a warning as a threat. Luckily, the wards Marek had paid a lot of money for were holding.
“How big is this cake going to be?” Patrick asked.
“Big enough to feed me,” Wade said.
“It’s our wedding, not yours,” Sage reminded him.
Wade turned a pleading look on her. “Can I have my own cake?”
“Sure. Next year on your birthday.”
Wade groaned dramatically before opening a bag of Cheetos and shoving a handful of the neon orange crunchies into his mouth. Jono shared a look with Sage before shaking his head.
“I hope this latest mess won’t disrupt your wedding plans,” Jono said.
“Everything is on track,” Sage said with the firmness of someone who was ready to go to war and win to ensure she got married on her chosen date.
Marek had proposed to Sage last year, and the wedding was scheduled for this August. Jono hadn’t been involved much in the preparations except to agree to walk Sage down the aisle.
Patrick looked up from his phone and gave Jono a half grimace, green-eyed gaze steady. Jono couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to smooth back some of Patrick’s wayward dark red hair.
“No news yet on what the task force has decided, but we should plan accordingly,” Patrick said.
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” Emma drawled.
Patrick slouched on the sofa until he was resting most of his weight against Jono. The silent request for contact had Jono shifting until he could wrap an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and hold him close. It was a public sort of comfort Patrick only allowed amidst their group of friends, and Jono knew none of them took that trust for granted.
“The Auction of Curiosities and Exceptional Items is going to be held somewhere in London this month,” Patrick said.
“How soon?” Sage asked.
“We won’t have an actual date, time, and precise location until the spell written into the invitation recognizes the owner. But the invitation is starting to get spelled ink lines in the instruction section. They haven’t formed words yet. I’m betting the words will show up within a week or so though, which is why the joint task force is finally making a decision about everything.”
Jono looked over at Marek, and he wasn’t the only one. As a seer, Marek’s ability to see the future came with a price—blindness, madness, and then death, usually by way of suicide. For the past year, his visions had become few and far between, mainly because of Patrick and the fight against the Dominion Sect. With various Fates working for the heavens and the hells, the future was ever-changing. No single Fate had a monopoly on a future set in stone, and Marek’s patrons had been curiously silent for months. It meant less migraines for Marek, less risk of losing color and bits of his sanity, but they all knew this break wouldn’t last forever.
“I haven’t seen anything,” Marek said, hazel eyes staring into the far distance.
Sage reached up to curl her fingers over his chin and turn his face toward her. “Don’t look if the Norns haven’t given you a reason to.”
Marek blinked and smiled wanly at her. Jono wasn’t sure how many shades of color Marek had lost since last summer, but he still felt guilty about every hint of gray seeping into his friend’s vision.
“Can you really trust Lucien to take this invitation to the auction?” Leon asked as he sat on the armrest of the chair Emma had claimed. He draped an arm over her shoulder, tangling his fingers in her fishtail plait. She didn’t seem to mind him messing up her hair.
Jono snorted. “Nah, mate. That’s why we’d have to go.”
“One of us needs to stay here,” Patrick said, tipping his head back a little to look at Jono. “We can’t cede New York City to Estelle and Youssef. I left for Chicago and they sent hunters after you. I don’t want to know what they’d use this time to claim back what territory they’ve lost if I go to another country.”
“I’m not letting you go to London alone.”
“You were exiled from that city.”
“Sage can talk our way into pass-through rights.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “No pressure.”
Patrick grew tense beside him, and Jono gently rubbed his fingers against Patrick’s arm. “We’ll work it out.”
Patrick said nothing to that promise.
“If you’re all going, then I’m going,” Wade said right before he burped.
“That leaves us without our god pack,” Emma pointed out. She didn
’t look worried, but Jono could smell it on her, the sudden spike that cut through her scent. “None of us can afford that, not with the Krossed Knights still stalking the streets.”
“We have the fae and the Night Courts to aid us,” Leon reminded her.
“That aid was brokered through Patrick and Jono. Will it still hold if they don’t have a presence here?”
Jono frowned. “I don’t know.”
God packs always required a sustained presence in the cities they claimed territory in. If the entire pack left, that essentially gave up the city. But the idea of Patrick going off to Europe alone was unthinkable to him, and not just because of the soulbond.
London was an ache Jono would always carry with him—a home that had never wanted him before or after he was infected with the werevirus. Growing up in a council estate in Tottenham was worlds away from the wealthy parts of London he’d traipsed through as a lad. He was always made to feel like an outsider as a child because he and his family had been poor.
Once he was infected with the god strain of the werevirus, things got worse. The London god pack hadn’t wanted anything to do with him—either because he brought nothing to the pack, or his anger back then had been a problem. Jono never got an answer from the alphas at the time, and while he’d been allowed to stay in London, he hadn’t made many friends. He didn’t get a pack until moving here, and Jono wasn’t willing to lose his family or his territory.
“What if we have a proxy?” Jono asked slowly. “If we bring others into our god pack who don’t carry the god strain and designate them with the authority to lead in our absence, would that still keep our foothold in New York?”
Sage frowned thoughtfully. “I honestly don’t know if that’s been done before. There’s no precedent for something like that.”
“Emma and Leon took Marek into their pack.”
“The Tempest pack isn’t god pack, and no one is going to argue with the Fates.”
“Patrick does,” Wade muttered.
“Don’t be like Patrick.”
“The only one with the god strain of the werevirus in our pack is Jono. I know that gives us some legitimacy, but the rest of us don’t meet any criteria people expect of a god pack,” Patrick said.
“And we’ve been fighting for acknowledgment since day one because of that,” Sage reminded him.
“Then if you think a proxy alpha won’t work, a dire will,” Jono said.
Sage glared at him. “I am not staying behind while you two destroy any and all political avenue of god pack alliances.”
Jono winced. “I’m gutted at your lack of faith.”
“And I prefer no headaches.”
“I’m not asking you to give up your title and rank. I’m saying what if we appoint a second dire?”
“There is only ever one person who holds that pack title and rank.”
“Yes, but if you’re with us, we need someone here to keep hold of our territory. If Estelle and Youssef get to call in hunters and no one in their pack will call them on their bollocks, then we can change up the rules on them.” Jono looked over the top of Patrick’s head at Emma and Leon. Both his friends were staring back at him with unblinking eyes and steady heartbeats. “Emma? If we take you into our god pack as our proxy dire, you can watch over our territory here.”
He’d already taken them and their Tempest pack under his protection last year. They might not have the god strain of the werevirus running through their veins, might not have the bright amber eyes that designated them god pack here on this continent, but Jono would trust Emma, Leon, and their Tempest pack over any of the other god pack members currently residing in New York City.
“Estelle and Youssef won’t see me as god pack,” Emma warned.
“The packs under our protection and the god packs who acknowledge our place will.”
“I’m up for pissing them off if you are,” Leon said, tugging on Emma’s plait.
Emma looked up at her partner, giving him a slight smile. “I’d never pass that up, but if we do this, our entire pack will lose what’s left of their anonymity. If I’m dire, even temporarily, that’s a lot of public scrutiny.”
God packs existed to take society’s punches so other packs could live normal lives. The Tempest pack could blend in with mundane humans, but Jono couldn’t hide. He wouldn’t want them to go through what he did on a daily basis when out in public, but holding their territory was important.
“We can find a different way,” Patrick said.
Jono shook his head. “I don’t think we can.”
“Forcing Emma to give up her autonomy isn’t fair.”
“If our entire pack is going to London, we need someone else to represent us here in New York. We can’t just abandon our territory.”
“Then maybe you should stay.”
Jono fought back a scowl. “I’m not letting you fly to another country without me, Pat.”
Patrick eased away from Jono a little. “And I think forcing Emma into a corner is being a shitty friend.”
A tense silence followed Patrick’s statement. It was broken only by Emma clearing her throat. When Jono looked over at her, he couldn’t see any hint of accusation in her gaze, and she smelled calm to his senses.
“We’ve been heading toward more scrutiny for months already. It’s not a surprise, it’s just not ideal, but it’s also something I wouldn’t ever say no to,” Emma said.
Leon smoothed his hand over her shoulder in a comforting manner. “Em.”
She reached up to slide their fingers together. “We both lead for a reason, Leon. If I act as dire here for Jono’s pack while they’re gone, you can still keep our pack safe because Tempest will still have an alpha.”
“I don’t want you to stand alone.”
“She won’t be alone,” Patrick promised before Jono could speak up. “If this is what’s being decided, then she’ll have the backing of our alliances. I’ll see if maybe Brynhildr and her valkyries might want to spend some time in New York while we’re gone. They can keep Emma company when she’s doing proxy work for us outside your guys’ pack.”
“Isn’t that asking the gods to interfere when they’re technically not supposed to?” Marek wanted to know.
Patrick snorted. “They make up and break their own rules all the damn time. The valkyries liked New York when they were here in February. Just let them drink for free at the bar.”
Emma got a pained look on her face. “We went through double our weekly inventory last time they were here. That mead they sell is damn good though.”
“I’ll adjust the order when I go in tonight,” Jono said.
Patrick wouldn’t look at him. “You’re still working?”
“Not much else I can do, not until you hear back from your director. Friday nights are always busy anyway. My workers can use an extra hand.”
“Right. Enjoy that.”
Jono raised an eyebrow at Patrick’s terse words. The anger coming off Patrick was subtle, but there. He didn’t think it was just about asking Emma to act as their proxy dire.
“You all right?” Jono asked.
“Fine.”
The shortness of Patrick’s reply had Jono reevaluating his schedule for the rest of the day. The bar would keep for a while longer until after he’d driven Patrick home and talked through whatever had suddenly put Patrick in a strop.
“I’ll take you home. You can’t have the conversation you’ll need to with the government at the bar.”
Patrick said nothing to that. Emma got gracefully to her feet and padded over to where they sat on the sofa. She settled on the coffee table in front of Jono, head tilted to show off the line of her throat. Jono placed his hand against her throat, feeling her pulse beneath his fingers. The scent of Emma’s pack was strong in Jono’s nose as he pressed his own scent into her skin. She might not carry his strain of the werevirus in her veins, but she’d carry the proxy mantle of a god pack dire against Estelle and Youssef with all the righteousness of
a mean right hook.
“I’ll keep watch over New York City,” Emma promised.
“We all will,” Leon added.
“I know,” Jono said.
Because that was what pack did.
4
Luck seemed to be with them when they arrived home and a parking spot had opened up in front of their brownstone. Jono claimed it before anyone else could, locking the car doors once they were out and the luggage had been removed from the boot.
The teeth-shivering sound of stone grinding against stone had Jono glancing up at the roof of the five-story brownstone. Lined up on the edge were the half-dozen gargoyles the fae had convinced to take up residence on the property back in February. They’d started off with three, but once the gargoyles became aware of Patrick’s presence, three more had joined the group.
Jono thought they’d done it to annoy Patrick, who wasn’t overly fond of gargoyles and tolerated them at best because he had no choice. Gargoyles were great home guardians, added value to a property, but they certainly made a mess everywhere. The amount of pigeon feathers that drifted onto the stoop these days was annoying, and their grinding chatter could get loud on occasion.
Jono carried Patrick’s luggage up the flights of stairs to their flat, depositing it in their bedroom. He came back out to find Patrick in the kitchen, pulling a beer from the refrigerator. The air-conditioning had kicked into higher gear, cooling off the flat to a degree Patrick preferred in the face of the summer heat outside.
“Grab me one?” Jono asked.
Patrick silently got out a second beer, opened both, then left the kitchen to hand one to Jono. He would’ve kept walking if Jono didn’t curl an arm around his waist, keeping him there. Patrick took an angry swallow of his beer but didn’t try to break free.
Jono frowned at him. “Why are you angry?”
“You shouldn’t come.”
“To London?”
“Yes.”
Jono shook his head. “I’m not letting you go off on your own. I already told you we’re doing this together.”
Patrick finally pulled away, glaring up at Jono. The anger in his scent was strong, but worry cut deeper. Jono wished he could soothe it all way. “The London god pack exiled you.”
On the Wings of War (Soulbound Book 5) Page 4
