On the Wings of War (Soulbound Book 5)

by Hailey Turner

  “Necromancer?”

  Albert nodded. “All signs point to yes. The UK government doesn’t want him within our borders. He will be tracked down and arrested if chatter indicates he is, no matter your country’s needs.”

  Necromancy was a form of magic no country in the world wholeheartedly approved of. Messing with a person’s soul was illegal, doubly so after someone had died. It was a capital crime in the United States, and one of the many reasons Patrick and Jono had to keep their soulbond a secret. The United States government sanctioned and employed a handful of magic users whose magic dealt specifically with necromancy, souls, and the dead.

  Necromancers were heavily regulated in some countries, and outright killed in others. The subtle differences in that form of magic wasn’t worth it to most governments to grant life to those magic users. Not all necromancers were bad or a threat though, but the general public would never see the good they could provide for the living.

  “We have intelligence that the auction will happen next week. Our analysts are working on uncovering the location it will occur at,” Albert said.

  Patrick kept his face expressionless at that information—it was different from what Lucien had told them. Patrick trusted the invitation’s timeline over intelligence guesses at this point. He trusted in Nadine as well, and let her take the lead for the rest of the meeting since this was more her purview than his.

  “Why is it whenever I see you these days, it’s always in preparation for a fight?” Nadine asked.

  Patrick glanced over at her as they walked through St. James’s Park in the early afternoon. The silence ward Nadine had cast covered their immediate area in a bubble of silence. It left Patrick’s ears muffled, the sounds of the city absent from his hearing.

  The trees surrounding them were in full greenery, giving the illusion they weren’t in the middle of London. On a sunny Wednesday, the park was filled with office and government workers on their lunch breaks, along with tourists and locals alike taking advantage of the sun. The heat had Patrick wishing he wasn’t wearing a suit.

  “Because Setsuna still hasn’t let me take a vacation,” Patrick said.

  “That’s a travesty.”

  Nadine’s high heels clicked against the asphalt of the park pathway they walked down, the only sound Patrick could hear beyond their breathing.

  “I didn’t think Franklin would allow us to work together again. What changed his mind?”

  Nadine shrugged lightly. “I think Reed demanded it. Honestly, there are a limited number of agents assigned to the joint task force. There were only so many people he could’ve picked from, but it didn’t make sense for him to send someone from the States when I’m working out of Paris.”

  Her location had been helpful last December when Patrick, his pack, and the Hellraisers had been in a tight spot in Ireland. Nadine had flown out on an emergency basis to act as backup they desperately needed.

  “Have you worked with the team here before?” Patrick asked.

  “I’ve worked with people out of the WSA before, though not these particular officers. The WSA tends to share information a little easier than the French do.”

  “I guess the special relationship between our countries comes in handy.”

  “Sometimes.” Nadine peered at him through her designer sunglasses. “What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t say in there?”

  Patrick automatically cased the area, wondering if they had a tail or not. Trust only went so far between foreign intelligence agencies, especially when magic was in the mix. “Albert is wrong about the timing of the auction.”

  “Do tell.”

  “The invitation says it’s happening this Sunday.”

  Nadine nodded, the expression on her face remaining blank. “Location?”

  “We won’t know until this weekend.” Patrick chewed on his bottom lip for another second before continuing with “I don’t think we should share that information, especially if Nazarov is onsite.”

  “They’d expect us to.”

  “Doesn’t mean we have to, especially if their necromancy laws would put them at odds with our needs. We can’t risk the WSA ruining the meet-up. We need the auction to go forward.”

  “That’s going to cause problems down the road.”

  “I don’t have a choice. You know why.”

  She did, which put Nadine in a small category of people who knew about his past and the soul debt that dictated his life.

  “Anything else I should know?” Nadine asked.

  Patrick scratched at an itch on his jaw that stemmed from shaving that morning. “We’re trying to get a meeting with the London god pack to clear us for pass-through rights. I think things are going to get messy.”

  “How so?”

  “Apparently Jono’s exile came with a death sentence over here. A fact he never told me about until the other day.”

  “Doesn’t he already have hunters after him?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if any operating over here are chasing the same bounty. Think you could find out for us?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but you might have more luck contacting the SOA’s permanent liaison officer in MI5 directly.”

  “I can’t leave an evidence trail about my pack.”

  “Then I’ll reach out to the PIA’s permanent liaison officer in MI6 and hope for the best. I might have something for you by tonight, but I can’t guarantee it.”

  “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “We went to one of Jono’s old neighborhoods yesterday and ran into one of his old friends. The guy didn’t come right out and say it, but there’s discord happening within the London god pack and probably the packs in this country in general. If we’re walking into the midst of a civil war within the werecreature community here, I want to know.”

  Nadine frowned as they approached a fork in the path, opting to veer left. “Aren’t you in the midst of your own civil war? Now you’re going to deal with two?”

  “Yes, but I only started one of them.”

  Nadine snorted. “I’d say don’t start any, but this is you we’re talking about.”

  Patrick would’ve argued, but he figured she had a point. “We’re staying at the Sanderson if you need to find us.”

  “Mobility?”

  “Two cars. It’s me, Jono, Sage, and Wade.”

  “Isn’t that your whole pack?”

  “We left a proxy dire holding the line back in New York, and the valkyries agreed to come guard her. The fae and the Night Courts should help with any gaps in the defense of our territory.”

  “Was that wise?”

  “Doesn’t matter. We had no choice. The Morrígan’s staff needs to be found.”

  Nadine hummed thoughtfully, mouth twisting a little as she processed the information. Patrick had seen that exact look of concentration on her face plenty of times before.

  “My superiors out of Paris won’t like the sleight of hand we’ll be pulling on the WSA, but I’ll let Franklin deal with them. Count me in for whatever your plan is.”

  “Right now—”

  Patrick cut himself off as recognition burned through his magic, the particular sting of werecreature making him skim the area. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his magic coalesced on the warning coming from behind them.

  “What is it?” Nadine asked, keeping her stride even. Despite her high heels, Patrick knew she’d kick them off in an instant to fight, then moan about their loss later. “Soultaker?”

  “Werecreature,” Patrick said.

  “And me without my silver bullets. Should I shield?”

  “No. Let’s loop around and head back to the WSA.”

  “If we stay on this path, it’ll take us back to the street.”

  Patrick nodded and let her lead the way back to the WSA. The werecreature at their back never retreated, and Patrick resisted the urge to
turn around and confront them. He couldn’t risk interacting with werecreatures so close to a government building.

  They dropped the wards once they reached the street. The bubble of silence popped, and the sound of city traffic rushed back into Patrick’s ears. They walked in silence back to the WSA, keeping their pace even and unhurried. When they reached the main entrance to the building, Patrick pulled his visitor’s badge out of his pocket and clipped it to his lapel again. Nadine dug hers out of her purse and clipped it to the collar of her sheath dress. The werecreature couldn’t follow them inside, but Patrick almost wished they would try.

  “Let me get the door for you,” Patrick said.

  He knew Nadine was perfectly capable of opening her own doors, but he used the opportunity to look behind them, catching a glimpse of a blond-haired man in dark jeans and a polo shirt, sunglasses perched firmly on his nose to hide his eyes. Patrick committed his face to memory before they entered the building, wondering how the London god pack had found him so quickly.

  Nadine took off her sunglasses and tucked them into her purse, the questions in her eyes going unanswered for now. The WSA might be their country’s allies, but some secrets could only be shared between the two of them.

  Patrick’s phone buzzed in his pocket as they climbed the main staircase. He took it out and unlocked it, reading the text that had come through. The words on the screen made him want to scowl. Jono’s update was succinct and annoying.

  Meeting tonight with the London god pack. Challenge ring a possibility.

  “Everything all right?” Nadine asked.

  “Situation normal,” Patrick muttered.

  Nadine’s smile was knife-sharp and too-knowing from shared experiences. “All fucked-up.”

  8

  “How the fuck is the Savoy neutral ground?” Patrick asked as Jono navigated the car through evening London traffic. Patrick had swapped out his suit for his usual jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket with its cold charms activated instead of heat. He had a feeling his outfit wouldn’t pass muster with hotel staff.

  “Why are you asking me? I haven’t been in London for years,” Jono said.

  “Conducting pack business isn’t usually done so publicly, but the London god pack alphas were adamant about meeting at the Beaufort Bar,” Sage said from the back seat.

  Patrick rested his elbow against the window to prop up his head. “That’s a lot of literal human shields they could end up using if things go bad.”

  “Do you think things will?” Wade asked. He had a box of Jaffa Cakes in hand, another in his lap, and was steadily eating his way through them. The sound of him chewing hadn’t stopped since they got in the car.

  Sage’s expression became grim in the rearview mirror. “It’s a possibility we have to accept. Their dire wasn’t pleased about being forced to agree to the meeting. I think it’s safe to say his alphas will feel the same way.”

  Patrick’s gaze drifted over the winding view of the Thames at night and the way some of the more well-known London landmarks glowed against the night sky. It was just the four of them for the meeting, with Nadine handling the needs of the WSA while Patrick turned his attention toward his pack. He trusted her to keep the WSA from asking too many questions about his absence, but knew he’d have to face them all again tomorrow.

  Showing up bruised would definitely have them asking questions.

  “Tom didn’t know what you three were when we met with him at the pub yesterday,” Jono said.

  Patrick turned his head fractionally to look at him. “Meaning?”

  “He thinks you’re human. Depending on what the god pack has heard about New York, they may not know you’re a mage, Sage is a weretiger, and Wade is a dragon.”

  “We aren’t giving up Wade’s form unless we’re backed into a corner.”

  “Didn’t you tell me not to shift mass while we were in London?” Wade asked.

  “We’ll make an exception if it looks like we’re losing the fight.”

  “We won’t lose,” Jono said, sounding way too confident for Patrick’s liking.

  Patrick snorted. “Let’s operate under the assumption they know everything public about us and we don’t know jack shit about them. If we’re going in blind, let’s be prepared for anything.”

  Sage leaned forward between the seats. “If they demand a fight in the challenge ring, will you agree to it?”

  Patrick opened his mouth to say no when Jono beat him to it with the wrong fucking answer.

  “Yes,” Jono said, sounding calm even if the steering wheel creaked beneath his grip.

  Patrick jerked his head around to stare at Jono. “Excuse me?”

  “If things are as messy as we think they are, then refusing to fight won’t get us very far. We need the right to stay in London.” Jono turned his head to glance at Patrick, his wolf-bright blue eyes flashing from reflected streetlights. “You need that right, Pat.”

  Sage sat back with a sigh. “He’s not wrong.”

  Patrick stared at Jono. “You aren’t fighting them.”

  Jono turned his attention back to the road. “Neither are you.”

  “I will be fighting them if they insist on deciding things in the challenge ring. That’s my responsibility as dire,” Sage said.

  While Patrick knew Sage could hold her own in a fight, he didn’t like anyone fighting if he could do it for them. Judging by Jono’s expression, he didn’t like it much either, but he didn’t try to argue with Sage about her demand.

  Patrick sighed heavily. “Is this some pack rule I don’t instinctively know because I’m not a werecreature?”

  “Dires handle everything except a direct challenge. We fight for our god pack alphas.”

  “I’m more than capable of fighting my own damn fights.”

  “Fighting, sure. Winning is another thing entirely,” Jono muttered.

  Patrick scowled at him. “Oh, fuck you.”

  Jono ignored him and flicked on the blinker, veering right and away from the Thames. The lit-up London Eye disappeared behind trees and buildings as they went farther into the dense city. London wasn’t built on a grid, and Patrick missed Manhattan’s setup. The twisted route they were taking to the Savoy was as far from a straight line as one could get.

  Despite the hour, there were lots of cars on the street, as well as numerous double-decker red transit buses. Patrick kept his attention on the road and intersections in case of any unexpected trouble. London wasn’t a city he knew well, and he didn’t know what to expect while they were here without approval for pass-through rights.

  “United front?” Patrick said as Jono switched lanes and the GPS map on his phone announced their destination was on the left.

  “Always,” Jono said.

  “You take lead, I’ll follow. But if they go for your throat, I’ll cut open theirs.”

  Patrick had his dagger strapped to his right thigh where it belonged. He traced a look-away ward over the sheath even as he locked down his personal shields as tight as they would go. His bones ached for a few seconds, joints flaring with heat as the magical anchors Persephone had burned into his skeleton held up his defensive magic.

  “Can’t smell you,” Jono said, sounding vaguely annoyed.

  “Good. That’s the whole fucking point of shields.”

  Coming across as human was a skill Patrick leaned into hard when dealing with the preternatural world. If the London god pack alphas hadn’t done their due diligence on Patrick’s pack, then oh fucking well.

  They turned left, driving down a short narrow street to the main entrance of the Savoy. The high-end luxury cars they passed shined from the white lights above. Their rental looked completely out of place. The valet who came to collect their keys managed to hide his distaste once he got a good look at Jono’s eyes, even if he couldn’t hide the fear in his scent.

  “We’re here for a meeting,” Jono said, handing over the keys. “We won’t be staying the night.”

  “Very well,” the man
said, passing over a numbered ticket. “Myself or another can retrieve your car when you’re finished.”

  They passed by a fountain and between gold and black pillars on their way into the luxury hotel’s lobby. Inside, it was brightly lit, the black-and-white floor tiles clean of any scuff marks, with white pillars stretching up to a high ceiling. Wooden panels lined the wall but didn’t reach the ceiling, broken up by antique-style wallpaper with hearth wards woven into the design. As much as the Savoy was a luxury hotel, someone had paid lots of money to treat it as a home as best they could where magic was concerned.

  The effort was wasted. Public space could never carry a threshold or be a place where hearth magic could settle.

  “This way,” Sage said, taking the lead. Her high heels clicked softly against the tile as she walked, black dress swirling around her knees. Out of all of them, only she looked like she belonged in the hotel.

  “I take it you’ve been here before?” Patrick asked.

  “Marek prefers the Savoy when we come to London. I prefer the Dorchester.”

  Jono glanced at her. “I thought you owned an estate in London?”

  “We do. Sometimes it’s easier to abide by pack laws by staying in transient places though.”

  Patrick smirked at her. “Meaning you don’t have to ask for pass-through rights.”

  “It wasn’t worth the hassle when I was an independent or even after when Emma took me into the Tempest pack. It’s worth it now.”

  Unspoken went her reason—her pack. Sage had become family, and her fierce protective streak and incredibly sharp mind had saved their collective asses multiple times in the past. Patrick had a feeling she’d do it again if tonight went as shitty as he thought it would.

  The guests they passed at the Savoy came from money—new, old, it didn’t matter, but every last one of them forgot their manners and stared when Jono passed them by. Patrick knew it was his eyes and what they represented that made people look twice. Most werecreatures tried to hide what they were from the public. God pack members didn’t have that luxury.

  Sage led them through the hotel to the stately red double door etched in gold at the edges that led to the Beaufort Bar. The hotel hostess situated in the nearby alcove was fighting through nerves and hiding it well enough that she didn’t look like she was about to have a panic attack. Patrick figured the sooner the god pack werewolf standing between her and the entrance left, the happier she’d be.