Sage sighed loudly. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Wade.”
“Patrick was there first!”
“Eat your Jaffa Cakes and let us work out our plan of attack,” Jono said with a straight face.
“I could always eat the furry bastards,” Wade grumbled while ripping open another packet of his latest snack.
Patrick looked over his shoulder at Wade. “No eating the enemy tonight. We don’t need that spotlight in this country.”
“Is the entire London god pack made up of werewolves?” Sage asked, driving the conversation back on track.
“They were when I was last here. Don’t know about now. Devin is one, if that’s what has you worried,” Jono replied.
“So they won’t expect my animal form.”
“Not many do in the western hemisphere.”
“In that case, do you want their dire dead or for him to show throat?”
“Make him show throat. Pat is right. The less bodies we have to explain, the better.”
“Murder inside the challenge ring is legal.”
“I know, but we aren’t looking to take over the London god pack. We just need pass-through rights.”
“Fine.”
Sage sounded annoyed they weren’t going to let her kill the guy, and Patrick snorted. Then he turned his head to stare at Jono’s profile. “Who’s Bryson?”
Jono blinked, but that was the only glimmer of reaction he let slip through. “An old mate of mine.”
“Did you fuck him?”
Jono rolled his eyes. “A long time ago.”
“He seems to want to pick up where you left off.”
“We didn’t even date, we just shagged. I don’t want anything to do with Bryson like that. Stop being jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Jono glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “If I could smell you, you’d smell like jealousy.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“That’s a bloody lie.” Jono reached over to squeeze Patrick’s right knee. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Pat. Only person I love is you.”
Patrick knew that, he did, but that still didn’t stop him from wanting to punch Bryson in the face. “He comes near you again, I’m stabbing him.”
“So much for no bodies,” Wade muttered.
“Eat your snacks.” Patrick shifted his gaze from Jono to the car in front of them, the one Bryson was driving. “If anyone tries anything outside whatever rules they lay down, I’m not holding back.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Jono said.
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive to Farningham, a village off the A20 surrounded by dark pastures. Patrick studied the map on his phone, noting the tiny nature reserve that buttressed the village.
“Nice place to bury some bodies,” Patrick mused.
Jono hummed thoughtfully at that. “Where?”
“The nearby group of trees by the property.”
“Yeah. The god pack owns it.”
“Is that where the challenge ring is?”
“No. It’s in the field before the reserve.”
“How many bodies are buried in the fields?” Sage asked.
Jono was silent for another mile before he answered. “The London god pack has owned that land for decades.”
Patrick leaned his head back and grimaced, wondering how many graves they’d be walking over tonight. In the States, god packs could legally kill each other inside the challenge ring. He knew from Jono they could do the same in the United Kingdom. Legal murder was never a good look for any community, but sometimes it was the only way for werecreatures to handle their issues and differences.
That didn’t mean he liked the thought of Sage stepping into the challenge ring.
Bryson’s car eventually pulled off the highway onto a less busy road. They followed him down the road, across an overpass, to a three-story country house that had seen better days. It wasn’t on par with any of the estates the peerage would own despite the land it sat on, but it was bigger than any other house they’d passed by.
A lot of cars were already parked in the driveway, forcing them to park closer to the road than the house after Bryson braked to a stop. They got out, the breeze warm despite the late hour. Patrick kept his leather jacket on, flexing his fingers. The urge to call up his magic was difficult to push aside.
“Jono, are you sure about this?” Bryson asked as they approached him.
Wade snorted scornfully. “You’re the enemy. Aren’t you supposed to not talk us out of a fight?”
Bryson ignored him, focusing only on Jono with a habit Patrick wanted him to break, preferably yesterday. “I don’t want to see you end up dead, mate.”
“That’s not going to happen. Lead on, yeah? We’ve a challenge to win,” Jono said.
Bryson glanced at Sage before shaking his head. “Right, then. This way.”
He didn’t lead them into the house, but around it, cutting between the main building and the detached garage. Patrick couldn’t see all that well in the dark, unlike the others, and wasn’t willing to cast some witchlights. He hoped everyone continued thinking he didn’t have magic, or if they believed he did, that he was a low-level magic user.
Maybe the gods of luck were on their side this time.
Then they cleared the buildings and came upon the crowd of werecreatures milling around a large circular space made up of flagstones pressed into the ground. Tiki torches shoved into the dirt were lit, providing flickering illumination that was more than enough light for everyone to see by. He sighed irritably.
Scratch that. The gods of luck were definitely not on their side tonight.
“Someone clearly doesn’t have a need for speed,” Patrick muttered as he attempted to count how many people were in the audience. “Did you do a mass group text and threaten murder if anyone was late to get them out of London and here tonight before we arrived?”
“This isn’t everyone,” Bryson retorted.
“This is enough,” Sage said calmly as they approached the challenge ring. “You have your witnesses, and I have mine.”
As they drew closer, the London god pack shifted, drawing back until they were grouped around half the challenge ring. Bryson went to join his pack, lines clearly drawn. Patrick, Jono and Wade spaced themselves along the curved stone, not needing to fight for elbow space. Sage had left her purse in the car, but had kept her shoes on. Her high heels clacked sharply against the flagstones as she stepped over the raised edge and into the challenge ring.
Patrick clenched his hands into fists and bit his tongue so he didn’t argue about taking her spot. He’d seen the end results of some challenges over the years—messy, bloody, with bodies usually in pieces no matter if they were human or animal—but he wasn’t familiar with the traditions surrounding how they started. The underlying rules were the same, but how god packs executed their law varied by country.
Devin was already standing inside the challenge ring, barefoot and stripped down to his jeans. He was joking with a few other pack members standing beyond the flagstones, laughing and shoving each other in mirth. When he finally turned to face them, his sharp teeth were a line of bright white against his black skin.
Behind him, Cressida stood on the slightly raised stone barrier, the height of it making her almost even with Finely. Her skintight white jeans came to a stop above the top of her rose-gold strappy heels. The feel of hell scraped against Patrick’s soul and magic as he stared at her and whatever demon rode her soul.
Cressida had one hand cocked on her hip, chin raised high, blue eyes reflecting the light in flashes. It was strange being surrounded by people with eyes like Jono. Most god packs in the United States had bright amber-colored eyes, and Patrick had gotten used to seeing that coloring in a person’s face.
“You wouldn’t normally be worth our time except to hunt you down for the kill, but you requested a challenge. Who am I to deny us a fight?” Cressida asked.
Some members o
f her god pack cheered; there were just as many who didn’t. Patrick couldn’t smell a goddamn thing other than grass and pollen that made him want to sneeze. He hoped Jono was reading everyone’s scent because Patrick was focusing on body language. Maybe it was the flickering firelight from the tiki torches, but some people didn’t seem thrilled about being there.
“Dire,” Sage said as she methodically started removing her diamond earrings.
Devin smirked at her as he started undoing his jeans. “You could always walk away, love.”
“Don’t call me love.” Sage handed Jono her earrings before slipping out of her Louboutins and handing them over as well. Her engagement ring was safe in Marek’s hands back in New York. “Say again the terms, dire.”
Devin kicked aside his jeans and underwear, standing naked in the firelight. “When you die, the rest of your pack is forfeit.”
“And when I put you on your knees to show throat, we’ll earn pass-through rights and Jono’s pardon.” Without looking away from Devin, she lifted her platinum necklace with its turquoise pendant wrapped in fae magic away from her throat and passed it to Patrick. “Hold my necklace.”
Patrick tangled his fingers around the warm metal chain, listening as a quiet murmur rose up from the London god pack. Devin’s smile faded, and Cressida looked positively murderous.
“This was werecreature against human. Magic is forbidden in the challenge ring during a fight,” Finley snapped.
“Which is why Sage removed her necklace,” Jono said as Sage unzipped her dress and let it fall off her shoulders and slip down her body. Wade reached down to pick it up and shake it clean. “We agreed on dire against dire, not human against werecreature. Not our fault your sense of smell is shit.”
“You thought I was human. Your lack of due diligence is your failing, not ours,” Sage said calmly as she removed her bra and underwear and passed those over to Jono as well. “The challenge was called and I am here to answer.”
Across the challenge ring, Cressida’s face contorted in a way that wasn’t human. Patrick couldn’t be sure it was even a shift of skin, because the expression looked too monstrous for it to be anything but demonic. Then it was gone, replaced by a fury fueled by hate that was just as ugly in its own way.
“Kill her,” Cressida snarled.
Devin shifted fast, but Sage was faster. The months of training and fighting and learning to shift fast in order to survive meant she had all four paws on the flagstones before he did. Sage was massive in her weretiger form, a ferocious beast that looked nothing like the tigers in the wild. She was all dull orange-and-black fur, defined muscles, articulated limbs, and teeth that reminded Patrick more of a saber-toothed cat’s than anything else. The only werecreature Patrick had seen who was larger than her was Jono.
Despite her size, she was quick on all four legs, lunging across the challenge ring for Devin in a blur Patrick could barely track. The werewolf dodged, but couldn’t escape the swipe from her claws, and got raked across his side for his efforts. Sage’s claws were larger than his, wickedly curved, and cut deep. Blood spurted from the wound as Devin twisted out of range with a pained snarl, sliding across the flagstones.
Sage followed him with an agility that looked bone-breaking, twisting her body into a charge Devin had no other choice but to meet. This was supposed to be a fight, and he couldn’t win it by running away.
Devin went low, aiming for her throat, but Sage had a longer reach with her front legs. She slashed at his face, forcing him back again or risk losing an eye for the rest of the fight. It would grow back with the shift to human, but no one wanted to be half-blind in the challenge ring.
One minute into the fight and Patrick realized Sage was playing with Devin. He’d seen her fight for her life before in other battles, seen her rip the head off a soultaker after werewolves drove the ever-hungry demon to the ground. Alone or with their pack, Sage was a force to be reckoned with that most other packs never saw coming.
Devin might have fought his way into being dire for the London god pack, but he hadn’t been fighting against gods and the Dominion Sect. Sage was prepared for underhandedness—Devin wasn’t prepared for the sheer ruthless brutality Sage brought to the fight with her size and strength and cunning mind that outclassed his.
Werewolves made up the majority of werecreatures in the world. People infected by the werevirus gleaned from wildcats or bears were rarer on certain continents or countries, but they tended to be the hardest to take down in a fight. Sage was used to fighting werewolves. It became immediately apparent Devin was not used to fighting against someone larger and stronger than he was.
Patrick took his eyes off the fighters in the challenge ring and scanned the crowd of god pack members on the other side. Some people looked surprised while others appeared grimly worried. One or two had a vicious smile on their faces, and Patrick figured Devin maybe wasn’t the most popular dire around.
When his gaze passed over Cressida and Finley, Patrick found only one of them staring back at him. Cressida wasn’t watching the fight; he couldn’t be sure she even seemed interested in it. Despite the distance separating them, Patrick could see the way her lips were pulled back in a snarl, the shadows brought on by flickering tiki torches not enough to hide the sharpness of her teeth.
The grating feel of hell grew sharper against his shields, digging past his magic and into the damaged parts of his soul that always seemed to know where to find bits of hell in the world these days. No one else bearing witness to the fight seemed aware of the hellish taint—or if they were, they were used to it.
Neither option was a good one.
Patrick’s fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to touch his dagger and draw attention to it. The magic and prayers that resided inside its matte-black blade came and went as it pleased, but when faced with a threat from the hells, it always answered the call. The last thing he wanted to do was tip off a demon about his ace in the hole.
“Damn, I’m out of Jaffa Cakes,” Wade grumbled, shaking the box upside down to prove he had nothing left. “Sage! I’m hungry. Can you hurry up?”
“Wade,” Jono ground out. “Not the time.”
“But I’m hungry!”
Sage let out a roar that sounded less like pain and more like annoyance as she slashed at Devin. Wade crossed his arms over his chest and scowled mulishly. Patrick watched as she faked a dodge and twisted sharply on her hind legs to leap onto Devin’s back and drive him to the ground. He let out a howl that was abruptly cut off when Sage clamped her jaws around the back of his neck, sharp curved fangs digging through fur to latch onto skin, spilling blood.
If she wrenched her head to either side, she’d break Devin’s neck and kill him.
Patrick almost wished she would.
Devin went rigid beneath her, his panting the only sound lingering in the silence around them. Sage growled a warning deep in her throat, the noise vibrating through the air, causing more than one London god pack member to take a step back.
Cressida appeared incandescent with rage, practically vibrating with it, while Finley’s face was wiped clean of emotions. Other pack members around them seemed just as stunned by what had happened, but there were a few who were doing a bad job of hiding their relief.
Sage growled again, the sound harsher, more of a demand as she pressed the claws of one rear paw against Devin’s flank. He stayed stiff for several more seconds before going absolutely limp beneath her.
Someone on the other side of the challenge ring gasped loudly. Patrick never took his eyes off Sage as she lifted her jaws away from Devin’s neck and backed away, having gotten him to submit and show throat. Her striped tail lashed the air in quick motions.
“Fight’s over,” Jono said.
Cressida’s vicious growl said more than words ever could as she stepped into the challenge ring and stalked over to where Devin still lay on the flagstones. He tried to scramble away, but she was on him in a second, still human, but with preternatural st
rength backed by hellish power behind her. She kicked him so hard in the head even Patrick could hear the bone break.
Devin’s wolf head snapped around, the side that had taken the blow appearing dented in the firelight. He collapsed, wolf body lying limply between Cressida and Sage, blood beginning to trickle out of his muzzle. Then Cressida turned her attention on Sage.
Instinct had Patrick reacting, and a mageglobe formed in his hand without him needing to think about it, the command trigger seeping through his thoughts and into his soul. He let the mageglobe fly, arcing it over Sage as she retreated to give him room. Patrick’s magic exploded between them, forming a shield that arced over the London god pack.
Cressida skidded to a halt before hitting the shield, one heel snapping off her shoe as her right ankle bent in an awkward way she didn’t seem to feel. She straightened in a fluid motion, not caring about her damaged shoe.
“We won the fight and it’s fucking over,” Patrick snapped, conjuring up another mageglobe, filling it with an offensive spell instead of a defensive ward. “Back the fuck off.”
Someone touched the glittering pale blue barrier and yelped from the backlash. Patrick ignored them, keeping his attention on Cressida and the way she smiled at them when none of her god pack could see—like something else moved beneath her skin, and it wasn’t the wolf she could shift into.
“Mage,” Cressida snarled. “It’s illegal for your kind to interfere in our challenges. Magic is forbidden in the challenge ring.”
Jono stepped into the ring as Sage shifted back to human, both of them safe outside the shield encasing everyone else. “Patrick is the co-leader of our pack. He acted when you went after our dire unprovoked.”
Sage was fully human now, comfortable in her nudity as she wiped blood off her lips and chin. She flicked it off her fingers in a sharp gesture. “Patrick’s magic never entered the ring until after the fight was over and your dire had already showed throat to me. The terms were met. Grant us the pass-through rights and Jono’s pardon.”
“Perhaps I’ll find another dire and issue a rematch,” Cressida said.
Sage met her glare calmly, standing tall and proud beneath everyone’s attention. “Jono asked for leniency this round. If we go again, I will leave your new dire’s spine at your feet.”
On The Wings Of War: Soulbound V Page 11
