A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,47
be here as I am.”
“That’s not enough to make a bargain with me. That’s not enough to bring her back.”
“How certain of that are you?”
Lucien’s mouth twisted, black eyes like holes in his head against the gray fog surrounding them. “You, wolf, are not enough.”
“Fenrir is right, you know,” Hermes interrupted. “Faith comes in many forms. I had faith Ashanti would get the dagger to Patrick, and look what happened.”
“She died,” Lucien spat out, rounding on the messenger god. “Your fight stole our mother from us.”
Hermes stared him down, power flashing across his gold-brown eyes. “Ashanti was a willing sacrifice. She knew what was at stake. She knew what your temper would cost our side if she didn’t bind you with that promise to keep Patrick safe. Legitimizing their god pack only serves to keep your word.”
Lucien turned his head to glare at Jono and the god in control. “I won’t bargain with gods. Let me speak with your vessel.”
Fenrir withdrew through Jono’s consciousness far enough to give him back his voice. The god remained beneath his skin, in his soul, a burning presence that made Jono want to shift forms.
“Prayers in exchange for acknowledgment of territory rights. Is that what we’re agreeing to?” Jono asked, sounding like himself rather than Fenrir.
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“But you’re going to.”
Lucien smiled, his expression a twisted, monstrous thing. “You think because you carry a god’s favor you have the upper hand here? They gave you to Patrick as a weapon. You’re nothing but that to them.”
“Patrick doesn’t see me like that.”
“Patrick doesn’t matter. It’s what he needs to do that does.”
“Kill Ethan?”
“And the rot his father grew in the Dominion Sect. Stealing godheads was a dream before Ethan turned it into a reality.” Lucien stepped closer, eyes never blinking. “You get acknowledgment of your territory, and every last pack you rule over will pray to my mother, as will your god.”
“It took millions of followers to worship Santa Muerte into existence. You can’t possibly think we’ll be enough?”
Lucien said nothing to that, and Jono wondered what the vampire knew that he didn’t. Lucien trafficked in information the same way he trafficked in weapons, drugs, and people. Knowing something was worth its weight in gold some days.
“That’s my price,” Lucien said. “Take it or leave it.”
“Prayers for the damned in exchange for recognition of the living in the eyes of the enemy,” Fenrir said, clawing back control of Jono’s voice. “Done.”
“If we’re finished, let’s get away from your birthplace, Fenrir. I feel like it wants to eat me,” Hermes said.
Hermes passed between Jono and Lucien, a lazy smirk on his face. Fenrir receded from his soul, giving back control of his body. Jono shook his head hard, the deep silence making his ears ring.
Sage stepped closer, settling her hand on his arm. She peered up at him before giving a faint nod. “Good. You’re back. Let’s get out of here.”
Jono looked over her head at where Emma and Leon stood, both of them staring at him intensely with various degrees of shock and hurt in their eyes. Jono winced. Explaining what had happened wasn’t going to be easy. He doubted they’d forgive him immediately for keeping this particular secret after telling them he had nothing else to hide.
“Let’s go!” Hermes shouted through the fog, already just a dark shadow in the veil up ahead.
The five of them followed after the messenger god, the scent of ozone a trail they never deviated from. Traveling through the veil was difficult and rarely done by mortals, but gods slipped through more easily than most. Fenrir had taken them through the veil, but Hermes was the one to drag them back to the mortal world, pulling them out of the fog with determined hands.
When Hermes’ hand grabbed his, Jono tried not to flinch, letting the messenger god haul him back into Ginnungagap. The silence disappeared, replaced by the muffled quiet of an empty club, the music long since turned off. Bits of fog evaporated, his eyes adjusting to the structures of a building rather than the never-ending grayness of the space between worlds.
A blur of black and red was all the warning Jono got before Carmen stood before him and pressed a pistol to the underside of his jaw hard enough to make his teeth clack together.
“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Jono asked, knocking the barrel aside.
“If you ever take Lucien away like that again, they’ll never find your body,” Carmen promised, her face a mask of