A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,78

Dean Westberg case I got assigned focuses on rent payment done through pawnshops, but they aren’t giving up antiques as collateral, just pieces of their souls. I’m pretty sure Westberg buys them up, then gives them to Odin as tithes,” Patrick said.

“Sounds bloody awful.”

“Odin didn’t think he was in danger. The Dominion Sect did a snatch and grab at the same time they hit Thor’s bar.” Patrick pushed at the windshield wiper controls, scowling when he realized they were already on their highest setting. “I don’t know what they used to contain him, or who.”

“What happened at the bar?”

“Zachary was there. He brought Hel along. Thor went after her, and I drew Zachary and his people into the cemetery. Hannah showed up in the cemetery. I felt her,” Patrick said slowly as he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, chewing on his bottom lip. “In my soul.”

Jono’s hand settled on his thigh, giving a gentle squeeze. Patrick was still pissed at him, but not enough to pull away. “How is that possible?”

“She’s my twin. We had a connection when we were younger, but Ethan broke it with soultakers. At least, I thought he had.”

“You’ve never felt her before, have you?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not since we were kids. When that connection cut, I thought she was dead. I kept thinking that until I saw her in Cairo.”

“What about today?”

“Backlash hit the ley lines from a surge.”

Jono frowned, turning his head to look at him. “You weren’t tapped into a ley line through me though. How did you feel it? Because I felt it through the soulbond.”

“I know. I think it was Hannah.” Patrick laughed hollowly. “I don’t know what Ethan did when he tried to kill us. I didn’t think I had a connection, but maybe something stuck.”

Some small, selfish part of Patrick hoped it hadn’t. The idea that he might have had a connection to his sister all this time while she was at Ethan’s mercy made him want to throw up. Because the thought that maybe he could have found her before now was something he didn’t want to contemplate. He swallowed against the urge and instead focused on where his magic was leading him.

He hadn’t been given an address when leaving the SOA field office, just a general direction to Lincoln Park. Fine-tuning the location was up to Bowen. He’d given her his cell phone number, but she hadn’t called to give him an update yet. She was a mage who could follow the ley lines, and despite getting knocked on her ass from the backlash, she was back in the field doing her job.

What Patrick could pick up the closer they got to the urban park that carried the Lincoln namesake were traces of black magic. Whatever spell had been cast, the remnants of it were drifting on storm-driven winds, settling on snow-covered rooftops of people unaware their souls were in danger.

“Trying to track down everyone who might need their soul stripped of black magic in this weather is going to be a mess,” Patrick muttered.

Patrick’s phone beeped with a text message. Jono picked it up for him and unlocked it. “It’s an address.”

“Plug it into the GPS, will you?”

Jono did, and the GPS recalibrated. When the computerized voice spoke the destination, Patrick blinked in surprise. “Wait, what’s the address again?”

Jono repeated it and gave him a questioning look. “Do you know it?”

Patrick wanted to press on the gas, but speeding in this weather was a good way to slide into an unmoving object, like a parked car or the nearest powerline post. “That’s one of Dean Westberg’s personal properties.”

“The candidate guy?” Wade asked. “Oh, man. That can’t be good.”

“Maybe someone got revenge on the bloke for messing around with souls,” Jono said.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

It took fifteen minutes to get three blocks over. When Patrick turned down the street in question, it was blocked by government cars taking up most of the street. Patrick put the SUV into park and activated the emergency brake. He left the keys in the ignition so the heater would keep running, but still wrote a heat charm onto the roof.

“Stay put,” Patrick told them as he pulled on his gloves before opening the car door.

“I have one bag of donuts left,” Wade warned.

Patrick rolled his eyes and left Jono to deal with Wade’s never-ending hunger. He zipped up his leather jacket and shoved his gloved hands into the pockets to keep them warm as he trekked toward