A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,85
worried layer to it. Jono figured she and the rest of her pack had finally gotten a whiff of the immortals and didn’t know what to make of them.
“Does that mean I get to ride a motorcycle?” Wade asked excitedly, practically dancing on his feet.
“You’re still not allowed one when we get home,” Patrick retorted. “Now all of you, get moving.”
“I don’t like leaving you alone,” Jono argued.
Patrick glared at him. “I don’t want to have to explain your naked ass to the Chicago PD. I’ll be fine.”
Knowing he didn’t have time to argue, and that they’d argued enough lately, Jono gave in. He curled his fingers over Patrick’s chin to tilt his head up for a quick, hard kiss. “Be safe.”
Patrick smiled tightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid like last time I wasn’t around.”
Jono fought back a wince at the reminder he still wasn’t entirely forgiven. Sighing, Jono stepped back. He, Naomi, and Alejandro wasted no time in shifting back to their werewolf forms. Jono was warmer once on all fours, shaking blood from the shift off his fur. He paused long enough to headbutt Patrick before nipping gently at his hand. Patrick scratched between his ears with gloved fingers.
“I’ll find you after I deal with this mess,” Patrick promised.
Wade brandished Jono’s phone and waved it at them. “You can call him. I saved his phone after he shifted.”
Jono snorted, breath coming out in white puffs, grateful for Wade’s sticky fingers. He reluctantly walked away from Patrick to follow Naomi and Alejandro. Wade happily clambered onto a motorcycle, riding tandem with Eir and petting the motorcycle with a reverent hand. The motorcycle revved its engines without Eir’s hands on the handlebars, proving that what he’d seen in that split second during their charge hadn’t been a hallucination.
The valkyries put away their spears in the same manner as they had at the bar, the weapons dangling once more from their throats before getting tucked beneath their clothes. Brynhildr let Naomi and Alejandro take the lead. Jono stayed on their heels, the trek through snowy Chicago a quick one. The Chicago god pack’s home was three blocks away from Lincoln Park, in a mansion that rivaled Westberg’s.
Werecreatures stood guard outside the house in human form, and one took the stairs two at a time to open the front door. Jono followed Naomi and Alejandro up the stairs but paused on the porch to look back at where Wade was climbing off a motorcycle.
“We must keep searching,” Brynhildr said from the street, her helmeted head turned toward him, the visor flipped up. She didn’t raise her voice, and Jono could hear her even through the wind.
Jono nodded, then growled a warning at Wade when the teenager kept petting the motorcycle. Wade heaved out a sigh and jogged over to Jono, brushing snow off his shoulders as he climbed the stairs.
“I still want one,” Wade announced.
Jono nipped at his heels, gape-grinning at the squawk Wade let out before the teen hurried inside. Jono followed him, walking into a pleasantly warm home where other god pack members patiently waited in the living room with changes of clothes. Naomi and Alejandro were already human and getting dressed. Monica was there, and she arched an eyebrow as she held up a stack of clothes.
“I have something for you to wear,” Monica said.
Jono shifted back to human, going through the grinding change of bodies once more. When he was human again, he straightened up and took the clothes with a quiet “Cheers.”
The tracksuit bottoms were a little short, hitting just above the ankles, and the T-shirt was tight across his shoulders, but Jono didn’t complain. He’d ruined his shoes during the first shift, but he’d packed an extra pair. Jono ran a hand through his hair before nodding at Wade.
“Let me have my mobile,” Jono said.
Wade handed it over only slightly reluctantly. His desire to steal and keep things that weren’t his for a hoard they had to clean out monthly was a habit Jono and Patrick still hadn’t gotten him to break.
The front door slammed shut and a few more Chicago god pack members came into the living room. They spread out to keep watch, but none were blocking exits.
“Weather is getting worse,” one of them said. “Doesn’t feel normal.”
“It’s not. It’s a reactionary storm,” Jono said.
Naomi frowned at him. “The news isn’t saying that.”
Jono smiled thinly. “The news doesn’t want to incite panic.”