All Jono knew was that the people who used those sorts of weapons never saw his kind as anything other than monsters to be hunted. If the people shooting at them were hunters, then he needed to get Austin’s pack out of the line of fire and bring a proverbial gun to the fight.
He knew just where to find one.
“Go to your apartment building and get inside,” Jono ordered.
“We’re not leaving you,” Austin told him.
“Austin—”
“No. This is my pack’s territory, and we’re going to fight for it.”
Jono didn’t have time to argue. None of them did. “Then get to the playground and make some noise when you arrive.”
Austin flexed his hands, claws replacing his fingernails. “What about you? I can’t smell whoever is out there.”
Magic could go a long way toward hiding a person’s scent. Sage’s pendant necklace doubled as an artifact, and Patrick’s personal shields had been anchored by a goddess. Picking them out as anything but human in a crowd was impossible sometimes. What Austin didn’t know was that Jono had a connection to Fenrir, and he hoped the god was up to helping him out tonight.
“I’ll draw them out. I have a feeling I’m the reason they’re here.”
It would be just like Estelle and Youssef to pay a third party to kill him. Patrick couldn’t kill the perpetrators who came at the packs under their protection due to the bad press it would cause. The packs who were accosted never wanted to press charges, and Jono would never force them to. Estelle and Youssef’s inability to challenge Jono directly just proved they were scared of him and what he represented. Either way, someday soon, they’d all have to meet in the challenge ring, and that was a fight Jono was determined to win.
Just like this one.
“Ready when you are,” Austin said.
Jono nodded. “Go.”
The pack members of the New Rebels tapped into their preternatural speed and ran down the street in zigzag motions, being careful to stay behind cover when they could. The sound of more crossbow bolts releasing reached Jono’s ears, but he didn’t hear any screams. He used the sound of the release to narrow down the position of their attackers. That, paired with the calm heartbeats of four people buried beneath the rush of city noises and people packed together, was enough for Jono to figure out their general locations.
Jono crossed the street in a blur, crossbow bolts cutting harmlessly through the air in his wake. He was too fast to get hit, and the reflexes behind the shots were human, of that he was certain.
He just wasn’t sure what else the hunters carried in their souls.
Jono found the first attacker crouched in the bushes lining one of the residential apartment buildings, a moving shadow that Jono headed right for. He dodged the bolt aimed at his heart, nostrils flaring at the poisonous scent of silver and aconite left in its wake. Jono shoved down the memories of silver weapons cutting into his body in favor of getting his hand around the man’s throat.
He slammed the man against the building, hard enough to daze the fucker. Jono yanked the crossbow out of the man’s loose grip, breaking the finger curled over the trigger. The man didn’t scream, lips curling away from his crooked teeth in an ugly grin as he kicked out at Jono with a quickness that reminded him of Patrick’s training.
Jono dodged the kick, digging claws into the man’s throat rather than fingernails as a warning. Blood trickled over his fingers, and the smell of it was rotten.
The eerie sound of a wolf’s howl broke through the night, sounding out of place amidst the nighttime noises that permeated Brooklyn. Jono took that as his cue to move. He slammed the crossbow against the side of the building to break it before tossing the weapon aside. The sound of another crossbow releasing had him spinning on his feet, pulling the man in front of him.
The bolt meant to hit Jono in the back instead targeted the man’s chest. It wasn’t a life-threatening hit, because Jono could feel the shape of a tactical vest beneath the man’s winter jacket that prevented the bolt from piercing skin. It would’ve been nice if the bastard had taken the hit in the heart.
The smell of silver and aconite stung Jono’s eyes, but he didn’t let that stop him from retreating, putting distance between himself and the enemies closing in. He didn’t let go of his human shield, hauling the bleeding, struggling man with him down the block toward the playground.
“Who sent you?” Jono growled.
His grip on the man’s throat eased just enough for the arsehole to get some air, but all that came out was a vicious “Fuck you.”
“Nah, not my type. I like gingers.”
Jono didn’t bother asking more questions. He picked out the shadows following at a quick pace, yellow light from streetlamps glinting off their weapons. They weren’t using guns, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any. Jono bared his teeth and picked up the pace, keeping his prisoner close.
“Jono!”
Leon’s shout came from his right as he reached the corner, but Jono didn’t look. He ran into the street, dodging in front of a car so fast the driver didn’t start to brake until Jono reached the other side. He could see Austin’s pack scattered through the playground, the scent of their uncertainty and traces of fear about being in territory that wasn’t theirs carrying on the wind.
The playground had minimal coverage—just a few trees lining the sidewalk outside the fencing. A building took up space on one half of the block to the left of the playground. They had nowhere to hide out in the open, but hiding wasn’t his intention. Jono put on a burst of speed, vaulting over the fence that enclosed the playground, hauling the bleeding man in his arms with him. They landed on the other side, and Jono slammed the man face-first into the ground. Jono drew in a breath, the scent of the city and the New Rebels pack mingling with the distinct smell of the undead.
“This isn’t your territory, wolf. Get the fuck out.”
Jono narrowed his eyes at the vampire who dropped down to the ground in front of him from the nearby building, eliciting warning growls from Austin’s pack. Jono would’ve been thrilled he’d pissed off the Brooklyn Night Court by crossing uninvited into their territory, but the man on the ground suddenly heaved upward with a strength that wasn’t human.
Jono grunted as the man twisted in his hold, ramming an elbow into Jono’s side. He rolled out of the way, the faint sound of metal leaving metal reaching Jono’s ears. He swore, letting the man go and throwing himself backward, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape the knife that caught him in the ribs.
The silver blade, laced with aconite, burned like acid. Jono felt it in every centimeter of skin and bone the knife grated over before he could knock it aside. Jono stumbled a little in his attempt to get out of range. Before the man could close in for another strike, Leon grabbed Jono by the shoulders and hauled him out of reach.
The man got to his feet with a serpentine movement that made the hairs on the back of Jono’s neck stand on end. Jono tried to ignore the deep ache growing in his chest, but he knew what silver and aconite poisoning felt like. His rapid healing wasn’t going to fix this wound.
“The fuck is that?” Leon asked, his grip on Jono growing tighter.
Jono blinked, trying to steady his vision. The man standing in front of them didn’t seem to feel the severely broken nose on his face. It was flattened and bent to the side, the blood still trickling out of it black in the shadows cast by the nearby streetlamp. Jono had a feeling the man’s blood would be black even in broad daylight.