A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,37
get a feel for the man the SOA considered a criminal. Wade had tagged along because he was bored.
“I heard there’s a Nutella café in this city. Can we go to it?” Wade asked.
“You can go to it later. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I wanted to go today.”
“I’m not stopping you.” Patrick pointed at Wade without even looking. “Don’t steal my car keys.”
Wade grumbled something rude under his breath but pulled his hand away from where it’d been creeping toward Patrick’s pocket. “Fine.”
Patrick went back to ignoring him, keeping an interested expression on his face as he watched Westberg work the room. While the candidate spent time serving up plates and ferrying them to a lucky few senior citizens, his campaign staff and volunteers discreetly passed out campaign information.
A slim woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and wearing a warm winter pantsuit seemed to be in charge of the event. She drifted through the room, answering questions from curious people in between directing the ones handing out food and flyers. It seemed inevitable she would make her way to where they were standing.
“Here to support Mr. Westberg?” she asked with a smile that was friendly enough.
Patrick shrugged, never taking his eyes off her face. In the high heels she wore, the woman was closer to Jono’s height than his. “Just checking out my options.”
“As a candidate, Mr. Westberg is the only choice you should make.”
“I guess. Never really been one to vote, but this year’s election seems like one I should pay attention to,” Patrick said, lying through his teeth.
“As his campaign manager, I can assure you Mr. Westberg only has the well-being of all Chicagoans at heart.” She extended her hand to him. “Kristen Lief.”
Her hand was cold when Patrick shook it, declining to give his name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Do you have a ticket for the brunch?”
“Nah. We had time this morning between errands and thought we’d check things out. We need to go soon.”
“I want chocolate,” Wade said.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “We should probably go now.”
Kristen kept smiling, the practiced expression of a consummate public figure. “Hopefully we’ll see you at a later campaign stop.”
“It’s possible.”
She moved on, deftly transferring her attention to the next possible vote. Wade leaned in once she was out of earshot and whispered in a hesitant voice, “She smelled like how Tezcatlipoca always smelled.”
The chill that shivered down Patrick’s spine felt colder than the winter winds blowing outside. Patrick kept his expression calm, moving with a deliberateness he hoped no one would see through to the fear that made his heart pound in his chest.
“Let’s find you some Nutella.”
They left the community center, the wind blowing outside a cold, cutting thing that made Patrick duck his head and pull out his beanie from a jacket pocket. He yanked it on, tucking the wool over his ears. Wade knew better than to talk until they were back in the SUV and Patrick had set a silence ward throughout the vehicle.
“Are you sure?” Patrick said as he started the engine.
Wade hunched his shoulders, gaze distant for a few seconds before he shook himself free of whatever memory was making his breath come a little quicker than usual. “She smelled like electricity. It was subtle, like perfume, but there. Kind of got the feeling she was trying to hide.”
Patrick tightened his hands on the steering wheel before he forced himself to loosen his grip so he could pull into the street. “Okay.”
Patrick wasn’t going to question what Wade had sensed. To him, Kristen Lief had seemed as mundane human as they came, but he knew from experience gods could hide themselves if they tried. Not to mention the ones who weren’t worshipped as much or as often as the more well-known immortals were weaker, less likely to be noticed and more likely to pass as human.
Being forgotten was a lonely existence for a god, but it made it easier for them to cause trouble in the mortal world.
Patrick thought about the supposed souls being offered up in lieu of money for rent and wondered if Westberg was the problem or a victim.
“I need to interview Westberg,” Patrick said, thinking out loud.
“Could’ve done it back there,” Wade said.
“Too public, and I need to see if I can even get permission to do it first. The case is being worked under seal. I can’t disrupt what’s going on with this field branch of the SOA.”
Wade slouched in the seat and put a foot up on the dash. “I don’t wanna