A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,119

warrant.”

Patrick stared the demon in the eye. “You can pretend the current warrant encompasses what I’m asking for, or I can do one of two things. Call up a federal judge and let her know the warrant that brought me here also uncovered some illegal business activity, which will just bring in more SOA agents, or I can show you how my dagger works.”

The ifrit licked his lips. “That’s extortion.”

“I call it doing my job. I think we both know what went down last night. If I let Aksel Sigfodr know you had a hand in that mess?” Patrick shrugged. “Not my problem if you turn up dead this week.”

The ifrit dropped his gaze to the dagger and stared at it for several heartbeats before giving in. “I’ll get you the paperwork.”

Patrick left The People’s Pawn Shop a couple minutes later, carrying the invitation and paperwork showing the Westbergs had used it as collateral to purchase a set of idols that should’ve been in a museum somewhere. He climbed back into the SUV, knocking snow off his boots before closing the door.

Wade wrinkled his nose. “You smell like demon.”

“Maybe keep your nose to yourself and you wouldn’t have a problem,” Patrick said.

Jono eyed him curiously. “Everything go all right?”

“Yeah.” Patrick stared at the envelope inside the plastic evidence bag. “Everything went fine.”

He held in his hands what might be their first solid lead on the location of the Morrígan’s staff—Patrick just wasn’t sure what finding it would cost them.

22

“Won’t the cops see us?” Wade asked, nervously chewing on a thumbnail.

Jono squinted through the fog as they came up from the pedestrian pathway into Oak Street Beach. It was cold by the water, but the heat charms Patrick had spelled into Jono’s clothes were a soft comfort. “I think the gods have that issue well in hand.”

Jono removed his arm from around Patrick’s shoulders, taking the other man’s gloved hand instead. Patrick gave him a weary half-smile. “That’s not always a good thing.”

“You said it yourself, Pat. We don’t need an audience for this.”

“I’d rather be in bed than traipsing around the beach.”

Jono couldn’t agree with him more. He hadn’t seen Patrick since the mage had left their hotel room early that morning. Tuesday had turned out to be just as busy as Monday for Patrick, while Jono and Wade had remained in the hotel. Since the SOA was taking lead on the Westberg case, and they’d gotten what information they needed about the Morrígan’s staff, Jono and Wade were leaving in the morning.

Tonight though, the three of them had eaten dinner at a restaurant downtown, one Naomi had suggested wouldn’t discriminate against them because of Jono’s eyes. The food had been good, but rather than head back to the hotel like Jono had hoped to do, they found themselves returning to the shores of Lake Michigan. His plans for a night in had been derailed by a summons from the Norse gods, one which none of them could ignore.

The drive north hadn’t been terrible. The reactionary storm had settled into normal bad weather that was slowly breaking up. It had stopped snowing earlier in the day, but the pileup from the storm could be seen everywhere. Jono’s feet sank into the snow that covered the sand, ice pushed by the waves building up at the edge where water met land. Lake Michigan was calmer than it had been during the fight, little eddies of water finding their way to the shore and the ice there.

It looked peaceful, but Jono knew that peace was an illusion. They all knew what lived in the lake.

The city skyline to the south of them was hard to see through the fog. It smelled like normal fog, not like what lived in the veil, but that didn’t stop Jono from being on edge. It was thick enough that visibility was shit until they broke into a space on the beach where the fog didn’t touch.

In that spot, the beach wasn’t empty.

Softly glowing witchlights hovered in the air, providing more than enough light to see by now that the sun had set in the west. The glow was reflected against the snow and the gathering of gods and immortals. The electric charge to the air made Jono fight back a sneeze.

Hinon turned at their approach, his great, storm-colored wings folded tight against his back. “Ah, so you came after all. We are about to start.”

“Couldn’t really say no. Did you really need us here for this?”