As co-leader of their pack, Patrick should’ve been there to help handle the aftermath of the attacks. His job as a federal agent tied his hands in ways that were becoming glaringly apparent as Estelle and Youssef stepped up their attacks on disputed pack territory.
Patrick looked around at all the faces turned their way. Amelia Davenport stood front and center, looking tired and angry. She’d approached Emma in their absence back in June, requesting protection. Jono had accepted her loyalty once they’d returned from Europe. Patrick hoped she wasn’t second-guessing her support.
Amelia was professionally acquainted with Marek, Emma, and Leon, all of them working in the tech industry. She was a partner in a venture capitalist firm and married to a human federal judge. Her pack was out of Brooklyn, so large that when she chose their sphere of protection, the territory that came with her effectively gave them half of Brooklyn when paired with some of the other packs who’d already joined them.
It had been a body blow to Estelle and Youssef’s pack. They’d let their displeasure be known in vicious skirmishes that Amelia’s pack always won, sometimes with the aid of the Brooklyn Night Court.
It appeared their winning streak had ended.
“Your loss is all our loss,” Patrick said, the saying one Sage had taught him months ago. It was one of many phrases Patrick had learned since they’d staked their claim on New York City. Pack law was archaic in some ways, but it’s what had kept the werecreature community alive through the centuries in the face of human encroachment and discrimination.
Amelia nodded, jaw clenched tightly. Patrick was distantly glad he didn’t have enhanced preternatural senses to smell the amount of anger that had to be choking the room, judging by everyone’s faces.
“The attack came out of nowhere, which seems to be what happened with everyone else today,” Amelia said.
“All the hunters carried demons in their souls,” another person within the crowd said.
“What about the werecreatures who were present at the attacks?” Jono asked.
“The ones who attacked my pack didn’t seem to carry demons in their souls,” Amelia said.
The packs under their protection knew about the demonic threat that had infiltrated the London god pack. It was information Patrick and Jono couldn’t afford to keep secret, not when it threatened every pack across the globe. Cressida’s background as a hunter and willingness to accept a demon in her soul had wreaked havoc in the London god pack. The repercussions had spread beyond the United Kingdom, and they’d come home to the States with the expectation Estelle and Youssef would follow the same path, especially after their partnership with the Krossed Knights.
“Youssef followed me while I worked a case yesterday, and now this. Those assholes are getting bolder,” Patrick said.
“What are we going to do about it?” Sage asked.
“They’re testing our borders, looking for weak spots. They’ve lost half of New York City since the beginning of the year. They won’t give up the rest without all-out war,” Jono said.
“You think that’s what this is? War at last?” Leon asked.
“It was always war. They’re just finally bringing it into the streets.”
“Then how do we win it?” Emma asked.
Her question was echoed by other voices in the crowd. Someone reached between Patrick and Jono to set a beer down in front of him. The sharp smell of Guinness hit his nose, and Patrick reached for the glass. He took a sip, mind spinning through all the options he and Jono had been discussing over the last couple of weeks. None them were easy, all of them were messy, and even with Fenrir secretly on their side, there was no guarantee Estelle and Youssef would back down. Not if they were making bargains with hunters and demons.
PIA Special Agent Spencer Bailey had exorcised Andras out of Cressida’s soul in London. The Great Marquis of Hell was a demon allied with hunters, and hunters had no love for anyone who wasn’t human. The hypocrisy would be laughable if their kill count wasn’t so damnably high.
Considering the Krossed Knights had been working with Estelle and Youssef since February, Patrick wouldn’t put it past them to convince their pack to accept demons into their souls. The pair were power-hungry enough to find the risks acceptable, and they had a track record of doing what was best for them above anything else. They’d made shitty bargains in the past with vampires and gods, after all. Demons almost seemed an afterthought.
When it came to a second presence riding a soul, they had their own ace in the hole, so to speak, and Patrick wondered if it was time to break it out. Fenrir was Jono’s animal-god patron, having received the immortal’s blessing years ago. Fenrir’s presence was an approval Estelle and Youssef would never have, but it was one Jono couldn’t afford to reveal in the years he’d lived in New York City.
Gods were fickle, but more than that, a pack of four against an entire city, even with a god’s blessing, didn’t guarantee they’d win the war. Jono had kept Fenrir a secret from everyone until last summer when the god revealed himself to Patrick. Sage and Wade had found out the truth in December, while Emma, Leon, and Marek were made aware of Fenrir back in February.
The revelations hadn’t changed Jono’s stance over the last year or so, simply because they didn’t have the strength in numbers to take on Estelle and Youssef directly. Patrick took in the alphas surrounding them and wondered if the situation had changed enough that they had a fighting chance to take everything from Estelle and Youssef once and for all.
“The only way to win is to take them out completely. That’s going to be a costly fight in terms of blood and territory,” Jono said.
“What about our alliances?” Wade asked.
Jono shook his head. “Their assistance in maintaining our borders is helpful, but we need to be the ones to push Estelle and Youssef out. This is our fight.”
“What about going the direct route and meeting them in the challenge ring?” Marek asked.
“I wouldn’t trust any fight that happens in that place,” Amelia said flatly.
Other people in the crowd echoed her statement. Patrick had never been to the challenge ring located beneath the god pack home in Hamilton Heights. The underground space was familiar to everyone else from the times all the alphas had been summoned to meetings. He’d seen the aftermath of fights held in other challenge rings to know they were bloody spaces. He agreed with Amelia though—no fight held in a space controlled by Estelle and Youssef could be handled fairly.
“I’m not sure how much help the fae will be able to provide right now. Tiarnán was summoned to Tír na nÓg today on an emergency basis. He’s been our liaison for the fae, and I don’t know when he’ll return,” Sage said.
Patrick shrugged. “His absence shouldn’t affect the alliance. We—”
A loud explosion in the bar above cut him off, magic crashing against the wards embedded in Tempest’s walls. They flashed fire bright for a split second, nearly blinding Patrick. Before the glow faded, Patrick was on his feet and racing for the stairs, Jono right on his heels. The crowd of alphas peeled away from his headlong rush forward, giving them both space.
Patrick took the stairs two at a time up to the main level, seeing patrons pressed against the wall and away from the front of the bar. Someone was dragging the limp body of the bar’s doorman out of the line of fire. The smell of burning flesh hit his nose, and he hoped the bouncer was alive. He couldn’t stop and check because hellfire was burning across the entrance to the bar with all the ferocity of magical napalm.