Cold gray fog covered the world in a layer so thick Jono could barely even see Central Park out of the window of Sage’s and Marek’s home. The sun was impossible to make out through storm clouds that still churned somewhere above the fog, casting Manhattan in a darkness more reminiscent of twilight. Cars remained abandoned in the street, and a strange, eerie quiet had settled over the city, broken only by the howls of things that were definitely not werecreatures.
Jono turned away from the rain-streaked windows, taking in the mess that had become of the living area. Crates of weapons hauled over last night by Lucien’s Night Court were scattered on the floor, the tops peeled back, and their inventory laid out on any available flat surface. Gerard’s Hellraisers had brought their own gear, but it paled in comparison to what Lucien could provide.
After the Hellraisers’ arrival at the flat in Chelsea yesterday, they’d left for the Upper East Side. They hadn’t gone far when the veil started tearing and all electronics died. It had been a mad dash crosstown through crowds of panicked people who would’ve been safer home and behind a threshold. It reminded Jono a lot of Paris, and he wondered if that had been a dry run for this.
Probably, knowing their luck, but at least he knew what fighting in the streets would be like. The only difference was Patrick and how he wasn’t there. Thinking about his lover made Jono’s heart speed up with worry.
He still hadn’t heard from Patrick since their call cut off yesterday. The soulbond had gone tight and cold the way it always did when Patrick was beyond the veil. It hadn’t snapped back into place until sometime before dawn, the tightness of the connection hinting at the distance. They were city and states apart, but the distance wasn’t as bad as when Patrick had been in Chicago. The general direction was northeast, and Jono knew Patrick had to be in Salem, but there was no bloody way he could leave the city now.
Every bridge and tunnel leading into Manhattan had been closed off and barricaded by the military in the outer boroughs as the torn edges of the veil settled over the city. His pack was even more scattered than before because there was no easy route downtown to Bellevue, and Jono had no way to contact anyone. At least Gerard seemed to know what needed to be done in a situation like this.
“The National Guard and active-duty soldiers out of the Department of the Preternatural have made it to New Jersey across the Hudson. General Reed couldn’t tell me if they’re able to get across since we don’t know if the scrying crystals are compromised,” Gerard said from his spot on the sofa.
“I bet the public isn’t keen about that.”
Gerard shrugged. “I’m not questioning the support.”
“The soldiers might question what they see when things go to shit.”
“They’ll obey orders.”
“Let’s hope so.” Jono eyed the flat, beveled crystal sitting propped up on the coffee table that was far larger than the one he remembered looking at in Tiarnán’s car last year. “Pity there’s not more of these things. They’d come in handy right now.”
“This one belongs to Brigid. The one at the Pentagon had to be taken out of the Repository. There aren’t many available outside Tír na nÓg, and my queen is still a bit pissed about the ones in mortal hands.”
“Her loss, our gain.”
Gerard smiled thinly. “Don’t ever say that where Brigid can hear.”
“Pissing off the gods is more Pat’s wheelhouse than mine.”
Gerard’s smile faded away. “Still no news?”
Jono grimaced and shook his head, resisting the urge to press a hand over his heart where the ache of the soulbond had centered. “We can’t talk through it. We get emotions sometimes, and a general direction of where the other is, but nothing that would help us right now.”
“Do you still think he’s in Salem?”
“It’s the likeliest possibility.”
But it wasn’t a solid yes, and Jono couldn’t send people on a wild goose chase when he wasn’t sure they’d even make it out of Manhattan alive in the first place. He had enough problems right now worrying about the rest of his pack and those under his protection.
When Patrick had described how the fighting had gone down during the Thirty-Day War, they’d agreed to have the packs work together with the fae, covens, and Night Courts in designated areas. Everyone would keep clear of Central Park and the subways. They’d concentrate on city blocks, much how they had done in Paris. The SOA and the military would get folded into their defenses along the way under Reed’s orders.
A distant, heavy pounding caught Jono’s attention, and he dialed up his hearing. The sound came from the building’s front door floors below. Gerard appeared to hear it as well, but none of the other Hellraisers did.
“Expecting anyone?” Gerard asked as he stood, grabbing his long gun where it rested on the coffee table.
“The packs know this is where we’re staging the fight in the beginning and should remain together where they are. It could honestly be anyone.”
Groups of police officers had been out during their trek crosstown yesterday, trying to corral crowds. It had been a losing endeavor in the storm, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there again patrolling. Electronics might not work, but guns and magic certainly did.
Gerard headed for the flat’s front door and the set of emergency stairs in the small foyer beyond that led to the ground floor. Jono stayed on his heels and wasn’t at all surprised to find that Emma and Nadine had beaten them to the building’s entrance on the street level.
“Smells like vampires and ozone,” Emma said, not taking her eyes off the door but not moving to open it either.
There was only one person who smelled like that, and Jono stepped past Gerard to open the front door. Standing on the porch, drenched from the rain and barred from entering by the home’s threshold, was Ashanti. The mother of all vampires smiled, baring her iron fangs, and held up a familiar sheath and dagger.
“I come bearing news. Going to let me in?” Ashanti said.
Jono’s attention remained riveted on Patrick’s dagger. “What did you do with him?”
“I did nothing. Patrick took it upon himself to leave this behind.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon. You’ve already let my child past your doors, wolf. Show some respect and grant me the same courtesy.”
Emma ducked under Jono’s arm to glare at Ashanti. “Be welcome, but the second you go for anyone’s throat, the threshold will toss you out on your ass.”
She lived here too and was capable of inviting Ashanti inside. Jono, for all his status as their god pack alpha, didn’t call this building home. The threshold here knew that, and it recognized Emma’s words in a way it would never recognize his. They had no bread or water to offer in terms of hospitality, but Jono wasn’t sure mortal magic would stand against a goddess anyway.
Jono and Emma moved out of the doorway, allowing Ashanti to step inside, her ironshod bone hooks clicking against the floor. Nadine shut the door behind her and locked it, her wards flaring up around the doorframe once again. She’d erected a barrier ward around the building last night, and the weight of it had settled into the foundation itself.
Ashanti offered up the sheath and dagger, holding them out to Jono. He snatched them out of her hand, nostrils flaring as a hint of Patrick’s scent reached his nose. “Where is he?”
“Patrick asked to be taken to Hades to trade a weapon for his grandmother’s life. His request was granted,” Ashanti said.
Jono clenched his fingers around the sheath, fingernails biting into the leather, before shoving it into the waistband of his trousers. “By you?”
“By Hermes. Traveling through the veil is easier now, as you can see from outside, but beyond it was never a place I called home. It has broken through to the mortal plane. Everything else will soon follow.”
“We need to know where Ethan is before it’s too late,” Gerard said.
“I could find him with Patrick, but he’s busy cut
ting off Ethan’s power source. We will make do until you retrieve him.”
“We don’t know where he is.”
“I do,” an annoyingly familiar voice drawled from the stairwell.
Jono jerked around, staring at where Hermes lounged against the wall, smiling down at them all in an unkind way. Jono didn’t process moving until he had his other hand wrapped around Hermes’ throat, pinning the god to the wall.
“Is this any way to greet an old friend?” Hermes wheezed, not fighting his grip.
“You aren’t a friend to anyone here,” Jono growled.
Hermes grabbed Jono’s wrist with bruising force and wrenched himself free. His heels hit the step below, and he caught himself against the wall. The smile never left his face. “Eloise is upstairs. You’ll want to hear what she has to say.”
Jono took the steps two at a time back up to Sage’s and Marek’s flat, the others scrambling after him. When he came back inside, he saw Eloise sitting on the sofa, so pale it was as if she had no blood running through her veins. But her blue eyes were clear enough when she looked at him, though the lingering scent of terror spoke of a horror Jono knew well when one was held hostage by Ethan.
“Eloise,” he said, closing the distance between them.
“Jonothon,” she said in a voice empty of the vibrancy it had carried during their first and only meeting.
Jono sat down on the sofa beside her, careful not to crowd her. When she reached for him with a shaking hand, he took it. “It’s all right to call me Jono. How are you?”
As badly as he wanted to ask about Patrick, Jono knew steamrolling an old woman who’d gone through a trauma wasn’t the way to get answers.
She blinked rapidly at him, heart beating faster than was probably healthy for someone of her age. “I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about Patrick.”
Jono could barely hide his wince at the way she glossed over the probable torture she’d been put through. “Then talk. I’m listening.”
Eloise drew in a breath, the sound a rasp in her throat. “Patrick traded himself for me. They’ll put him in the spellwork I was tied to because it needs someone from our family to make it work.”
“Where is the spellwork located?”
“The Burying Point Cemetery.”
Jono froze, Marek’s vision coming back to haunt him in that moment.
I saw a graveyard, which means there’s some kind of ending we’re now running toward.
“That’s in Salem,” Nadine said. “You were right about the location, Jono.”
“I can take the Hellraisers through the veil. Whatever gods are in Salem, I’ll handle them,” Gerard said.
Eloise’s eyes were wide in her face, wet with unshed tears. “I need to tell you about the spellwork and the Salem nexus.”
“We know about your family’s ties to it. Patrick told us,” Jono said.
Eloise frowned, lips trembling. “How did he know?”
“One of your children told him.”
“Oh.”
“Jono,” Emma said. “She can’t stay here. It’ll be too dangerous.”
Jono grimaced, knowing she was right. “Gerard? Can you take her with you through the veil to Salem?”
Gerard frowned before nodding. “Can do. We’ll drop her off somewhere safe before extracting Patrick.”
“The Salem god pack will help you. Georgelle is their alpha.”
Jono had the number memorized, and he rattled it off to Gerard, who gave him a thumbs-up. “I’ll make that call once we have boots on the ground in Salem.”
Jono gently squeezed Eloise’s hand. “We’ll—”
He was interrupted by one of Gerard’s Hellraisers thundering down the stairs, weapon in hand and trailing water behind him. “Got movement in Central Park, sir.”
Gerard hurried over to the windows facing Fifth Avenue. Jono left Eloise on the sofa to go see what was happening. The fog obscured most of the area, even with the storm winds, and it took a long minute for Jono to see what Gerard’s soldier had spotted.
Through the swirling fog, he could just make out the thick black brambles growing over the wall surrounding Central Park. Gangly figures with the look of the Unseelie fae to them were using the brambles to climb over the wall, falling to the sidewalk below.
“Fuck,” Gerard snarled. “If they’re coming from Central Park, then Medb has control of the hawthorn path. We’ll most likely run into her forces past the veil.”
“You need to go,” Jono said, already turning around. “Take your team and Eloise and get to Salem.”
Hellraisers were already snapping on their hard helmets, while the werecreatures present were kicking off their shoes, getting prepared to shift. Nadine, geared up and ready for the fight ahead, gave Jono a grim nod.
“If it’s anything like Cairo, that’s going to be the first wave. We had less powerful demons at first, so stands to reason Medb is sending her least powerful fae. They’ll try to wear us down with an escalation of forces,” Nadine said.
“Then let’s get moving south like we planned.”
“The veil will be difficult to navigate where it’s torn, and Cú Chulainn is right. It will be overrun with the enemy, and there are too many worlds to slip through if you aren’t careful,” Hermes said from where he stood by the door. “If you want to ensure Cú Chulainn can return with Pattycakes without getting lost, then you need to stay put.”
“Fuck you,” Gerard retorted.
Hermes wiggled his finger at Gerard, but his gaze never left Jono. “You’ll be a moving target on the streets, and you’ll be directionless. Ethan’s side wants you dead after Patrick.”
Deep in his soul, Fenrir let out an amused huff.
“And if we stay here, we’ll be a sitting target,” Jono argued.
“You’ll be alive.”
“I need Patrick to perform the blood rite in order to locate Ethan. If staying in one place ensures his arrival through the veil, then we will hold the ground here until Cú Chulainn returns with him.” Ashanti gave Hermes a contemplative look that spoke of murder. “You will guide Cú Chulainn through the veil.”
Hermes let out a put-upon sigh. “If I must.”
Gerard scowled. “I know my way through the veil.”
“Hermes knows it better. He’s traveled its breadth more than you over the centuries. Take the help,” Ashanti ordered.
After a fraught few seconds, Gerard inclined his head in her direction. “Very well.”
“Brilliant, but Sage is at Bellevue with Wade and Marek. I’m not leaving them there to face this alone,” Jono said.
Ashanti arched an eyebrow. “Then you should have brought them here when the veil first started tearing over this island. You need more than who you have with you here to make it that far south. Nearby packs will not be enough. You, however, are a target because of your connection to Patrick. Stay here and act like bait so Cú Chulainn has an easier time through the veil. Defending a location you know is easier than one you do not.”
Jono clenched his jaw, the need to shift making his skin itch. He glared at Hermes, the god not fazed at all by the intensity of his anger. “You’re a messenger god, yeah? Send a message to all the bloody gods in your heavens and tell them to get their arses here after you take Gerard to Salem.”
“What makes you think they aren’t on their way?” Hermes asked.
Jono would believe it when he saw it.
“We’re wasting time arguing. My team and I are leaving,” Gerard said, cutting through their raised voices.
Jono looked over at the assembled Hellraisers, hating that he had to stay behind. He wanted badly to find Patrick, but if he left New York City, something told him he’d never find his way back. They’d gone through too much to give up their territory now.
He gave Gerard a sharp nod. “Bring Patrick back.”
“You bet your English ass we will.”
The Hellraisers queued up, each person grabbing the shoulder strap of the pers
on in front of them. Their sorcerer took up the rear, magic gathered in his free hand, while Hermes went to stand in front of Gerard. Keith checked over his shoulder that everyone was ready before grabbing Gerard’s vest and giving it a hard yank.
“Ready to move out,” Keith said.
Jono went to the sofa where Eloise still sat and offered her his hand. “Time to go.”
She took it after a small hesitation, getting to her feet with his help. “I’ll make sure my family’s wards are taken down when we get to Salem. Ethan won’t be able to get to the nexus if they’re gone and the SOA has theirs up.”
“Good luck,” Jono said as he escorted her over to Gerard.
“Ma’am,” Gerard said, offering her his elbow. “Let’s get you home.”
Eloise slipped her arm around his and held on so tight her knuckles went white. For all the fear that Jono could smell coming off her, she put on a decently determined face.
Jono looked at Gerard, hesitating only a moment before he thrust Patrick’s dagger in the god’s direction. “Bring this back to him.”
Gerard took the dagger with gloved fingers. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Ready?” Hermes asked with a smile on his face.
The messenger god didn’t wait for an answer, reaching out for the air in front of him with both hands. He ripped it open, the gray fog of the veil spilling into the living room. He pushed it wider with an ease Jono knew wasn’t normal.
“Stay close and don’t let go,” Gerard ordered.
Hermes went through first, Gerard right on his heels with Eloise held protectively against his side. The Hellraisers followed him into the veil and whatever waited for them beyond. The tear sealed shut behind the last man, but the coldness remained, along with the threat waiting for them on the street.
“We take this fight block by block when Patrick gets here like we planned,” Nadine said as she turned toward the door. “Until then, we hold this one.”
“Wait,” Jono called out.
Nadine paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. Jono approached her and dug out the last Greek coin he’d left the flat with, the weight of it eerily heavy in his hand. He held it out to her, and the recognition in her eyes was tinged with surprise.
A Veiled & Hallowed Eve Page 22