A Ferry of Bones & Gold (Soulbound Book 1), page 24
He was thinking about getting to his feet when the entrance to Ginnungagap opened up and Carmen sauntered inside. She had a MacBook cradled in one arm and a large plastic bag filled with takeout hanging from her hand. Both were kept dry from the rain by the large umbrella she tossed aside.
“I see you’re finally awake,” Carmen said.
“Where’s Lucien?” Patrick asked.
“Around” came the airy response as she shed her glamour. That otherworldly power filled her aura, pressing outward. Patrick could’ve done without the sexual energy though, especially since his shields were broken.
Carmen wore a leather miniskirt and thigh-high glossy black boots. The red halter top she had on matched the red pupils of her dark eyes. Patrick shook his head as he finally pushed himself to his feet, feeling a little light-headed. He watched as Carmen approached the card table where she dropped the bag of food and pointed at him.
“You’re useless right now, so eat,” she ordered.
Patrick ignored her. “You got a toilet around here, or do I just use the nearest wall?”
“Portable,” Nadine said, pointing behind him.
Patrick looked over his shoulder at the large porta potty someone had hauled in. Walking on unsteady legs, he went to use it. The thing smelled like a sewer, but Patrick didn’t care. He closed the door, undid his jeans, and aimed his dick at the dirty urinal until the pressure on his bladder eased.
At least Victoria didn’t give me a catheter, he thought to himself. He fucking hated those things.
When Patrick finished, he washed his hands in the tiny plastic sink near the door. No paper towels were in the dispenser, so Patrick wiped his hands on his jeans before leaving. He was unsurprised to find Jono waiting for him right outside, despite the horrible smell.
Jono escorted him to where everyone was gathered around the card table. Someone had delivered metal folding chairs, and Patrick claimed one of them. His stomach growled at the smell of hamburgers, and fries but he knew he needed to work first.
“Where’s my phone?” he asked.
Jono set it down on the table in front of him. It was nice not having to scramble around for everything on his own.
Don’t get used to it, Patrick told himself.
His stay here in New York City was temporary. He only hoped he didn’t end up in a grave at the end of the case.
Patrick powered on his cell phone and checked the time first. The clock on the display read 1512, and he was of the opinion someone should’ve woken him up sooner. He had no signal though, the magic in Ginnungagap’s walls interfering with the nearest cell tower.
“Be right back,” Patrick sighed as he got back to his feet.
“Eat first. Plan for war later,” Jono said with a frown.
“You lose your lunch that way.”
Patrick headed for the entrance, picking up Carmen’s discarded umbrella along the way. Hauling open the door that led to the alley, Patrick opened the umbrella and stepped outside into the downpour. The threshold wrapped around the building grated against his soul, and he hissed at the discomfort. A couple of seconds later, Jono and Nadine joined him outside. Jono took the umbrella from him and hefted it higher, giving them all room to huddle underneath it. Nadine cast a shield around them to help keep out the rain and the wind.
As Patrick’s cell phone reconnected to the nearest tower, it began to vibrate with numerous notifications. He had nearly fifty missed calls, about as many text messages, and it looked like his voicemail was full. Patrick didn’t bother with any of the messages.
“Have you been in contact with Setsuna?” Patrick asked Nadine.
“We’re dark. I don’t know her burner number,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Patrick went through the usual protocol of calling Setsuna on her burner phone. On the last call into the number, he switched it to speaker. He doubted the werewolves around him would keep their ears to themselves, but Nadine needed to hear what was being said.
The line picked up on the second ring. Patrick knew Setsuna wouldn’t have picked up at all if she wasn’t in a secure location.
“Status?” Setsuna asked in a low voice.
“Alive. Not functional. I have my backup, and the immortals want me to fight. We’re a day away from the Dominion Sect’s latest attempt at stealing a godhead. They have Zeus.”
“There’s a warrant out for Rachel’s arrest.”
“So she’s officially labeled Dominion Sect now? You find any evidence to make your charges stick this time?”
“We’re working on it.”
“I would work on a bullet to the head over an arrest if you find her. She’s working with Ethan, after all. The murders paired with the soultakers and a missing immortal? Hermes was right. New York City is a sacrificial altar.”
Nadine leaned closer to the speaker pickup and raised her voice. “Zachary Myers was on the field in the Hamptons. So was Hades. If Zachary is helping Ethan cast the spell like last time, we’re going to need someone who can counter high-level blood magic. They should be a mage, but tell them not to tap a ley line. When I tapped one yesterday, I noticed the currents were wilder than they should be. Have you had any reports on the stability of the nexus below New York City?”
“Nothing recent. Nothing I would trust, at this juncture,” Setsuna replied.
“You need to get someone down here to check, someone you trust. I’d do it, but if the nexus and ley lines leading into it are compromised, then I’m going to need to save my strength to help build breakwaters in the ley lines later.”
“If the nexus is compromised, then it’s already too late.” Patrick rubbed at his face tiredly. The dull ache in his body was fading faster than it would if he hadn’t taken Victoria’s tincture, but she couldn’t cure exhaustion. “We can’t trust the nexus will remain stable. They’ve had six months to fuck around with it under Rachel’s watch.”
“She’s a witch though. How would she be able to do that without anyone noticing?” Jono wanted to know.
Nadine shrugged. “The SOA has mages on its payroll. I wouldn’t be surprised to find some of them were dirty.”
“You speak as if we’re the only agency that has been infiltrated” was Setsuna’s flat response.
“We didn’t call to argue about which agency is cleaner. The SOA and the PIA will both lose under that criteria,” Patrick said.
Setsuna steered the conversation back on track. “What is your status, Collins?”
“If you’re asking if I can pull off the same stunt as last time, let’s go with no. It doesn’t help that we don’t have the military as backup.”
“It may come down to that in the end. A pity we can’t pull them in now.”
“You can’t call in the military on a what-if basis,” Nadine muttered.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the governor of New York will love needing to send in the National Guard for a federal agency’s fuckup.”
“Your attitude isn’t helping this situation any,” Setsuna said.
“Ask me if I fucking care.” The line went quiet, neither side speaking up. Patrick sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “In case anyone hasn’t thought about it yet, because I doubt Rachel had clearance to enter the base, you need to do an audit of the Repository.”
Setsuna’s voice was cold when she spoke again. “I’m aware of that. An audit is already being implemented.”
The Repository was housed in a highly classified remote detachment of Edwards Air Force Base known by its vernacular name of Area 51. The Department of the Preternatural, the Supernatural Operations Agency, and the Preternatural Intelligence Agency all had equal control over the Repository. It held magical and supernatural relics of the past and newly made ones from modern times, all of them drawn from one myth or another.
Every country on Earth had an equivalent of the United States’ Repository. A build-up of magical weapons and artifacts had happened during the two World Wars and ramped up during the Cold War. Weapons of high magical strength were usually under the express control of governments. No one ever really knew what items each country had under their control. That information was always highly classified, but it didn’t stop people from trying to infiltrate the heavily guarded locations across the world.
It certainly hadn’t stopped Ethan and the Dominion Sect during the Thirty-Day War. It wasn’t until months after that fight that someone even thought to check the Repository in the United States for any discrepancies. Patrick had heard rumors of missing items, though he didn’t know for sure what they were.
By law, Patrick’s dagger should have been confiscated and listed in the United States’ Repository since it was made by gods. Since receiving it, Patrick had played the weapon off as nothing more than a well-crafted artifact but nothing truly out of the ordinary. Outside of Setsuna, Nadine, and a handful of others he trusted, no one knew about the dagger’s true origins. He knew if it had been placed in the Repository after the Thirty-Day War, then it would be in Ethan’s hands by now.
“Send whatever backup you can trust to help us hold the line. Put them in touch with Chief Giovanni Casale. We’ll handle the frontal attack,” Patrick said.
If Setsuna was going to argue, no one heard what she had to say. Patrick ended the call with her and then dialed Casale, putting it back on speaker again. Casale picked up almost immediately.
“Where the hell have you been?” Casale said.
“Out,” Patrick replied.
“In more ways than one,” Nadine said under her breath.
Casale didn’t seem to hear her. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Patrick leaned tiredly into Jono’s warmth and didn’t shake off the arm the taller man wrapped around his waist. He steadfastly ignored the raised eyebrow Nadine directed his way.
“You sound like you’ve missed me.”
Casale blew out a heavy breath, the pickup turning it into a quick crackle of static. “Like a nail through my skull. I need answers.”
“We had to go to ground. I hear Rachel has a warrant out for her arrest. Does she have her face slapped on a Most Wanted poster yet? Please tell me she does.”
Nadine rolled her eyes. “Have there been any more murders?”
“Who are you?” Casale snapped.
“Backup,” Patrick replied. “Let’s not use names. She’s doing me a favor by being here, but it’s not technically legal.”
“Collins—”
Patrick cut him off. “Look, Casale. I got Marek out of the mess on the beach, and believe me, he and I are going to have words about that. Arguing about what’s already happened won’t get us anywhere. We have a day, maybe less, until whatever spell is being cast will go off. Summer solstice is tomorrow. I need a sitrep, Casale. I need it now.”
Casale was quiet for half a minute before he spoke again. “You told Tyler to hold his own against a group of mercenary magic users.”
“I told him I was on the way.”
“You’re lucky my son knows what the hell he’s doing when it comes to wards, or we wouldn’t be talking.”
“Your son had a good teacher,” Nadine said. Coming from her, it was high praise. Casale didn’t see it that way.
“His mother” was Casale’s short reply. “Incidentally, she wanted me to tell you the reactionary storm is getting worse. Her high priestess has tasked the Crescent Coven with warning all magic users in the five boroughs to stay behind their wards and thresholds for the next two days.”
Patrick made a face, wondering about Hera’s generosity to mortals she didn’t much care about. Her coven worshipped her, and she drew her power from their prayers, but it was nothing compared to what it once was. Gods needed religion to regain their strength and power. All they had now were stories in books, and some didn’t even have that.
“Probably a good idea. We think the nexus is compromised.”
Casale’s job, coupled with him being married to a high-ranking witch, gave him enough of an understanding to know just how exceptionally fucked the situation was in relation to that statement.
“Fuck,” Casale bit out. “What are you doing about it?”
“Director Abuku is sending someone to monitor it. She’ll be reassigning SOA special agents to help with the problem.”
“Considering it’s your agency that royally fucked things up, I’m not inclined to trust whoever she sends our way.”
“She sent me,” Patrick said. “Am I suddenly not good enough for you now?”
“I never said I didn’t trust you. I said I don’t trust your agency.”
“That’s nice. Remember that week you gave me? It’s not over yet. I need to get to work.”
“I need updates.”
“I’ll call you.”
Patrick hung up and tightened his grip on his phone. Nadine studied him with tired eyes, but it was Emma who spoke up first from where she stood inside the warehouse, propping open the heavy door with one foot.
“Are you done? Food is getting cold,” Emma said.
As if right on cue, Patrick’s stomach growled. Jono’s hand on his hip tightened.
“Come on,” Jono said, pulling him along as Nadine took down her shield. “Let’s get you fed.”
The wind chased them back inside Ginnungagap, the threshold making Patrick grit his teeth when they crossed over it. Jono somehow seemed to know something was off judging by the questioning look he gave Patrick.
“What’s wrong?” Jono asked.
“What isn’t wrong?” Patrick countered.
Marek had set out the food Carmen had delivered, the food boxes holding hamburgers and fries ready for anyone to claim. He was holding a hamburger in one hand and typing away with the other, his MacBook hooked up to a portable generator. Patrick didn’t know where Carmen had disappeared to.
Patrick frowned at the setup. “Didn’t think we got signal in here.”
“We don’t. I used a hotspot off my phone outside to download some stuff earlier. I’m working offline,” Marek said, not looking up.
Jono pulled a folding chair back and gestured at it. “Sit. Eat.”
For once, Patrick listened without arguing and sat down.
“Can your director be trusted to do the right thing?” Emma asked as she settled onto a metal folding chair.
Patrick opened the takeout container and popped a fry into his mouth. “Yes, but it’s her methods that are questionable.”
“Personal experience, I take it?”
“And then some.” Patrick hesitated but opted for a bit of truth that Emma and Jono could smell. “I was Setsuna’s ward for nine years. She means well, but it’s more a means to an end for her.”
“Can she fight against this Zachary bloke or send someone who can?” Jono asked.
“That was supposed to be my job.”
“You’ve done enough, mate.”
Patrick picked the top off his hamburger to get rid of the pickles. “It’s never enough.”
“Why?”
He suddenly wasn’t hungry, but it felt like all the times in the field when he knew he needed to eat, needed to choke down some calories, but didn’t want to. Patrick picked up his hamburger and took a bite, chewing slowly.
“What do you know about this?” Marek asked, directing his question to Nadine.
She shook her head. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Marek finally looked up, staring at Patrick. “You know who is behind the murders.”
The statement fell between everyone like a rock. The hamburger suddenly tasted like rancid meat in Patrick’s mouth. He had to force himself to swallow it down. “I didn’t know for sure. Not until yesterday.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve seen this shit before, but living through it once doesn’t count as evidence. We need proof that ties the perpetrators to the murders, and right now we don’t have anything solid that will stand up in court beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“So who wants us dead?”
Patrick thought about keeping his mouth shut, but too many lives were on the line right now. He couldn’t keep quiet in the face of those who were god-touched like he was.
“Ethan Greene.”
Marek stopped typing. “I thought…rumor said he died at the end of the Thirty-Day War.”
Patrick smiled grimly. “Rumors lie.”
He should know. Patrick had started one or two of those rumors when he’d given his official report to the brass while holed up in a field hospital.
“If he’s behind the murders, what makes you think you can stop him? And why wasn’t Ethan identified for the public?” Emma wanted to know.
“Who here missed the fact that I got assigned this case last Thursday? The SOA didn’t have solid evidence because Rachel was stonewalling. We still don’t have any evidence that will link Ethan to the murders.”
Marek started typing again. “Ethan was a former SOA special agent. Rachel tried to kill us on the beach. Your agency has a problem.”
“You aren’t the first one who’s pointed that out,” Patrick said irritably.
Nadine sighed. “The Dominion Sect is nearly impossible to weed out. Sometimes, in the grand scheme of things, it’s better to keep your enemies closer.”
“Is this the same Ethan we talked about over breakfast with Hera?” Jono said with a frown.
Nadine nearly choked on a fry. “Really? You broke bread with that bitch?”
“Not by choice,” Patrick muttered.
Jono’s gaze never wavered, but Patrick couldn’t see any trace of judgment in his eyes. “She mentioned your family.”
“Ethan isn’t just the enemy,” Carmen said as the succubus sauntered past the table. Her heels clicked loudly on the dirty cement floor as she headed for the door, phone in hand.
“Carmen,” Patrick bit out warningly.
“You may as well come clean. Your father is the reason you owe a soul debt to the immortals and are in this position in the first place.”
