A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound Book 4)

by Hailey Turner

  “If you’re sure.”

  “You can drop Wade off first if you want.”

  “Nah, he said he was going to do homework at the Starbucks down the street.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea? He might drink five lattes with extra espresso shots in each one and then be up for two days straight.”

  Jono laughed, curling his arm around Patrick’s shoulder and pulling him close. He turned to press a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head, breathing in his scent that didn’t smell anything like pack, just him. Jono fixed that once they made it to the Mustang, taking a minute to press his scent into Patrick using both hands pressed to his neck. Jono distracted him from the scent-marking by kissing him and didn’t stop until Wade cleared his throat pointedly.

  “There are cameras,” Wade said primly. “Don’t give the security guards a show.”

  Patrick snorted. “Like Jono would ever do that. He’s not an exhibitionist.”

  “He ran around the park in Chicago while naked. He does the same thing here.”

  “Not with Patrick,” Jono said firmly. “Now get in the car.”

  Wade scrambled into the back seat, and Patrick took the front passenger one. Jono got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Getting out of the parking garage was slow, but they eventually got on the road.

  “What happened to the invitation?” Jono asked once Patrick had set a silence ward into the Mustang’s frame.

  Patrick stretched out his legs and reached over to rest his hand on Jono’s thigh. The touch made Jono smile, settling him in a way nothing else had since Patrick had been gone.

  “It’s being held in the Repository under armed guards, spells, and wards. The PIA is taking lead on investigating chatter that might be related to it. The SOA will still be looking into domestic leads, but the general consensus is the auction will probably not happen on US soil.”

  Jono frowned. “You really think the auction will be held out of the country?”

  “I think anything is possible. Ethan got his mercenary bona fides in Europe after he fled the country when I was a kid. Westberg didn’t get all those artifacts in his mini-museum house from the States. He liked to travel. The SOA has a forensic accountant digging into his personal and business records right now, but that’s going to take a couple of months to sort out.”

  “But he’s dead. Is the government still suing him?” Wade asked.

  “We’re suing his estate and looking at other members of his family. He wasn’t the only one signing off on those pawnshop receipts. The Westbergs did a lot of business with Odin’s old alias.”

  “What about the Dominion Sect?” Jono asked.

  Patrick sighed, his fingers digging lightly into Jono’s thigh before relaxing. “They skipped town. Maybe even the country.”

  The farther the distance between Patrick and his twin, the better, in Jono’s opinion.

  “I’m okay with a holiday from their bollocks.”

  “I think that’s all of us.” Patrick settled a little more in his seat, fiddling with one of the air vents. “Now we just have to deal with Estelle and Youssef’s bullshit.”

  “They’ve stepped back a bit from testing our territory boundaries now that every time they do they get reminded the vampires are involved. It won’t keep them away forever though.”

  “At least Lucien’s good for something. Guard dog is a good fit for him.”

  Jono laughed. “Never let him hear you say that.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  Conversation steered away from Patrick’s work to pack updates and the goings-on in New York while Patrick had been in Chicago. They hit rush hour on the drive into Manhattan, but Jono didn’t mind the traffic much, not with Patrick by his side.

  By the time they reached the Alphabet City neighborhood Tempest was located in, the bar had been open for a good hour already. They dropped Wade off at the Starbucks a couple of blocks away before circling the surrounding blocks until they got lucky with a parking spot.

  “Who’s coming tonight?” Patrick asked as he shut the car door behind him.

  Jono locked the car with the key fob before shoving it into his pocket. “Everyone, I think. You’ve been out of town for a bit.”

  Patrick made a face. “They’re gonna be invading my personal space, aren’t they?”

  Jono laughed, reaching for his hand. “Complain all you like, but you know you’ve missed us.”

  “Yeah,” Patrick said a little grudgingly.

  Nine months had given them both a new normal—as normal as dealing with gods could be. But their pack and the circle of close friends outside it was something Jono would never take for granted, Patrick most of all.

  Tempest was already half-full by the time they arrived, and Sage had kept two barstools open for them between her and Emma. She smiled when she caught sight of them. Setting down her wineglass, she got to her feet and came to greet them.

  “Got off early?” Patrick asked as he accepted a hug from her.

  Sage discreetly scent-marked him before stepping back. “Yes. I’ll work from home tonight to make up for it. You look tired.”

  “Long case.”

  “So we saw on the news. Come on, we’ll get you a drink. Leon ordered a couple of pizzas that should be here soon.”

  “Only a couple?”

  “More like ten.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Jono had technically taken the night off, but he went behind the bar to pour himself a pint and Patrick a glass of whiskey. He set both down on the counter in front of their seats and turned to ask Sage if she wanted a refill on her wine when an argument outside caught his attention.

  The conversation in the bar dipped as Jono dialed up his hearing. What he could hear had him leaving the bar in seconds, preternatural speed getting him outside quicker than Patrick.

  “Tell me you’re not that sodding thick,” Jono growled.

  “You aren’t the only one who can go where they please in this city,” Estelle said from where she stood by the double-parked SUV out front, with two more waiting behind hers. “It’s a public street we’re on.”

  “It’s not free territory.”

  Estelle smirked. “You’re right. It’s mine.”

  “Is she being delusional again?” Patrick asked as he exited the bar with Sage right behind him.

  Estelle’s scent never changed, but her eyes narrowed in a way that told Jono she probably hadn’t expected Patrick to show up. Sage approached the woman who was the reason Estelle had driven into their territory. The dark-haired werecreature stood frozen on the sidewalk between the bar and Estelle’s SUV, clutching a worn rucksack bulging at the corners, her thick curly hair cut to her shoulders and growing out a dye job. She looked to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, and the only scent Jono got off her was her own.

  Sage pulled the woman aside and guided her closer to the bar to talk quietly. The conversation wouldn’t be private, but it would get her behind them and away from Estelle. Jono left Sage to it and kept his attention on Estelle.

  “I already gave you a warning,” Jono said.

  “You’ve given her several. Her dumbass keeps ignoring them,” Patrick said.

  Emma, Leon, and several other werecreatures exited the bar, lining up on the sidewalk in a show of solidarity. Estelle’s gaze flickered over them before focusing on Jono again. She said nothing as a man climbed out of the SUV, bringing with him the unmistakable scent of sulfur. He was tall, dressed all in black, with a ruddy face. He had salt-and-pepper brown hair trimmed short, a scar bisecting his brown eyes over his nose, and a smirk that made Jono want to rip his face off.

  Jono’s lips pulled back in an instinctive scowl as more Krossed Knights and god pack werecreatures got out of the other two SUVs. Beside him, Patrick’s hand strayed toward his dagger.

  “You’re not welcome in this city. Or this world, for that matter,” Patrick said.

  “Making deals with the devil
, Estelle?” Jono asked, never taking his eyes off the Krossed Knight hunter. “Is this who you were entertaining the other week?”

  “That’s not your business,” Estelle said. “My business is the girl.”

  “She’s not yours. Get moving,” Jono growled.

  Estelle gestured in the newcomer’s direction. “Soon as that one gets in the car.”

  Sage looked over at Jono, gaze cold and steady. “Her name is Marissa. She’s from Miami. She’s an independent-ranked werecreature who is looking for permission to stay and for protection.”

  “She’ll have it,” Jono promised.

  “It’s not yours to give,” Estelle bit out. The hunters who had come with her spread out a little, and Jono tracked their movements.

  “Did you miss the part where we’re the New York City god pack and not you?” Patrick shot back.

  Before Estelle could respond, the loud revving of motorcycle engines filled the air, the noise familiar from their time in Chicago. Jono wasn’t the only one who looked down the street at the convoy of motorcycles turning the corner onto Avenue B.

  Brynhildr led the way on her Harley Davidson, Eir seated behind her and wearing her cat-eared helmet. Jono relaxed a little as some of the valkyries illegally crossed the meridian to bypass the double-parked vehicles, boxing in Estelle and the hunters. Estelle’s shoulders stiffened as her head moved from side to side, taking in the threat the valkyries presented. The hunters drew back, stepping closer to each other. Jono took a deep breath, curious at how the scent of sulfur seemed to diminish.

  Brynhildr revved her motorcycle’s engine and drove right toward Estelle’s door, forcing her to scramble out of the way. Brynhildr took her time driving between Marek’s Maserati and the car in front of him to jump the curb and park on the sidewalk. She killed the engine but didn’t bother with the kickstand.

  Brynhildr pulled her helmet off, shaking free her long blonde hair. Behind her, Eir did the same, climbing off Dynfari with a smooth motion.

  “Long way from Chicago,” Jono said by way of a greeting.

  “We’re in New York to get Eir another ride,” Brynhildr said, smirking a little. “And to bring you a gift.”

  “Uh,” Patrick said, probably thinking of how not to accept it, because Jono was as well.

  Brynhildr laughed. “Freely given. No strings attached.”

  Jono looked in the direction she nodded and saw Skuld approaching. The red-haired valkyrie carried a crate of mead wider than she was, but she didn’t seem bothered by the weight of it.

  “We heard you served good beer, but were missing something from your menu,” Skuld said with a wink.

  “What is it?” Emma asked curiously.

  “Mead.”

  “Do you sell it through wholesalers?”

  “No. You’d purchase it direct from the brewery if you like it.”

  “Please don’t like it,” Patrick muttered.

  Emma ignored him and waved Skuld toward the entrance to the bar. “Come inside so I can take a look and have a taste.”

  The rest of the valkyries were parking their motorcycles on the sidewalk since no street parking was available near the bar. Jono hoped whatever glamour surrounded the pegasi was enough to keep them hidden from traffic enforcement agents and anyone else walking down the street.

  Brynhildr gave Dynfari one last pat on the handlebar before dismounting. She stood beside her ride and stared at Estelle and the hunter in charge, a hint of ozone drifting through the air. Jono watched the way Estelle’s fingers made dents in the edge of the doorframe before she caught herself. The valkyries turned as one to face the threat on the street.

  “Who is she?” Brynhildr asked with the curiosity of a hunter having found prey.

  Jono thought of all the ways he could possibly respond and went with the easiest. “No one who matters.”

  Maybe it was a bit of a lie, but the underlying truth was a foundation Estelle couldn’t break. They had alliances with the fae and vampires, and at least one major god pack in the country had acknowledged them over Estelle’s. Estelle might have sold her soul to bargain with hunters, but they were as much a threat as a partner. She’d have to watch her own back with them, and that would never make her or her pack strong in the long run.

  Jono watched the way Estelle subtly signaled her pack members to get back into the SUV. The hunters only followed when their leader retreated into the lead SUV as well. Whatever fight Estelle had hoped to provoke, it wasn’t happening now, not with the valkyries having interrupted them.

  The three vehicles drove off. Jono didn’t look away until they’d turned the corner, the tension in his shoulders easing only when the threat was gone—for now.

  “Is that Dynfari?” Wade shouted in glee.

  Patrick peered around Jono at where Wade was running down the block toward them. “How did he even know they were here?”

  “They probably drove past the Starbucks,” Jono said.

  “I guess it was too much to hope he’d actually do his homework.”

  “Dynfari likes him,” Brynhildr said.

  “Of course she does.” Patrick raised his voice a little. “Go back to the Starbucks when you’re done saying hello, Wade.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Wade replied, clearly ignoring them in favor of the pegasi masquerading as motorcycles.

  “You’re still not getting one.”

  Brynhildr smirked. “We know a dwarf who owns a garage. We’re going there tomorrow.”

  “No,” Patrick stressed, rounding on her. “Zip it. Not one word.”

  Wade stared at Brynhildr from his crouched position beside the pegasus masquerading as a Harley Davidson. “Tell me more.”

  “That’s it. I need a drink. Jono, where’s my drink?”

  Jono snorted. “On the counter where you left it before we were interrupted. Sage?”

  “Leon and I will work out where to put Marissa,” Sage told him.

  She was already guiding Marissa into the bar. Since Fenrir hadn’t issued a warning about her, Jono figured she had a legitimate need and wasn’t a plant. Jono caught Patrick by the elbow and guided him back inside Tempest.

  “You’re all welcome to stay,” Jono tossed over his shoulder at Brynhildr.

  He wasn’t surprised when the valkyries came into the bar and stayed. They hailed from a drinking culture, and it was only polite to serve them. Only his pack, Emma, Leon, and Marek knew their true identities, but it didn’t matter. Tempest was an integral part of their territory, the place where they officially accepted guests—immortals included—into New York City.

  More than that, it was the people who filled the bar, who always showed up when the need arose, that told Jono what they were building could never be torn down.

  It was strange to think this was his life now—this mix of magic and family and pack that was all he’d ever wanted since being infected by the werevirus and never thought he’d get. Looking out over the gathered crowd, Jono realized he wouldn’t change anything in his past that had brought him here.

  “You’re thinking,” Patrick said sometime later after the pizza had arrived and been devoured. “Terrible habit, you know that, right? That’s why we have Sage.”

  “Shut it,” Jono said with a laugh.

  Patrick finished off his whiskey and set the empty glass on the bar counter. He kicked out his leg to hook his ankle around Jono’s. Whiskey and the warmth of the bar left a flush across his cheeks, putting his freckles on display.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing. Just…” Jono’s voice trailed off as he looked around the bar at the werecreatures, mundane humans, witches, and immortals who were all mingling. “Long way from London.”

  Patrick leaned forward, resting both hands on Jono’s knees. “Do you miss it?”

  Jono looked down into the face of the man he loved, the man he’d move every heaven and every hell for, and shook his head. “Not when I have you.”

  The Fates had given Jono a twiste
d road to walk, but he would always think it was worth every last bruising hit, every hard-won step, if it meant he made it here—standing beside Patrick, ready to fight a war they couldn’t win alone, but together they had a chance.

  Jono curled his fingers under Patrick’s chin and kissed him, easy and sweet. Jono could taste the whiskey on his lips and smell the happiness that cut through the bitterness of Patrick’s scent.

  “I love you,” Jono said beneath the cacophony of the bar, not caring who could hear him.

  “I know,” Patrick murmured softly. “Just like you know I’ll always come back.”

  The truth in Patrick’s words and in his scent was something Jono believed with all his heart. It was a promise of a future together Jono would do everything in his power to keep safe—from the gods, from hunters, from Patrick’s family, and from death itself if it came down to it.

  Because Patrick was every bit of hope Jono had ever wanted—bright and shining and worth a war.

  ~~~

  If you like science fiction romance and are a fan of comics and their movie counterparts, check out Hailey Turner’s Metahuman Files series, starting with In The Wreckage.

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  GLOSSARY

  Short descriptions of words, acronyms, and phrases used in the story that weren’t readily explained in text. Included as well are character names.

  Abuku, Setsuna: Witch. Director who oversees and leads the Supernatural Operations Agency.

  Academy: K-12 school that teaches magic to practitioners of all affinities and designations. All provide boarding options to students.

  Æsir: Immortals. Principal Norse pantheon of gods.

  Allfather, the: See Odin.

  Asgard: Location. Norse realm of the gods. A heaven.

  Ashanti: Immortal. Goddess and mother of all vampires. Takes the shape of an Asanbosam vampire out of West African myths.

  Beacot, Sage: Weretiger. A Diné lawyer who works for the fae law firm Gentry & Thyme. Dire to Jono and Patrick’s god pack.