A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,91

and smell of bile in his mouth, in his throat. “You didn’t take the shot in Cairo and this is where it led us.”

Patrick flinched with his entire body, struggling to breathe. His phone started ringing, but he couldn’t answer it when the effort to get air into his lungs hurt so much.

“You owe me my daughter’s life, Patrick. That was my price when I saved you.”

He swallowed so hard his throat clicked, the scars on his chest pulling tight. “I know.”

Persephone touched his cheeks, wiping away the tears he hadn’t known he’d shed. “You will pay your soul debt, no matter the cost.”

She walked out of the shop and into the snow, disappearing into the white flurries and the veil tangled between each snowflake. Patrick scrubbed a shaking hand over his face, trying to get his bearings back. When he looked over at the table they’d been sitting at, he saw it was empty.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispered quietly as he headed outside.

His phone stopped ringing before starting up again. Patrick fumbled it out of his pocket on the walk back to the SUV, Jono’s name bright on the screen, a lifeline that could never save him. Patrick’s thumb hovered over the green Accept icon before swiping over the red, sending the call to voicemail.

He needed a goddamn drink, not a conversation.

17

“Something died in my mouth,” Patrick said, not opening his eyes.

“You smell like an alleyway behind a pub,” Jono said from beside him on the bed.

“Put me out of my misery.”

“Those bloody ravens came by while you were passed out. They said Frigg wants to have a chat over breakfast.”

The thought of food had Patrick swallowing very, very carefully. “I said put me out of my misery, not make it worse.”

Gentle fingers rubbed at his temples and the throbbing there that wouldn’t go away. “Want to talk about it?”

The thought of talking about the atrocity done to his twin had Patrick struggling to a sitting position, eyes still closed, breathing heavily. Jono helped him to the bathroom, and Patrick fell to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to get sick. Nothing came out but bile and whiskey, but he didn’t feel better afterward.

“Guess that answers my question.”

Patrick listed to the side and ended up leaning against the tub. He kept his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the world from moving. The hangover he was suffering through was caused by trying to drink his body weight in whiskey last night. Jono had eventually caught up with him at some dive bar downtown. He’d paid Patrick’s tab, driven him back to the hotel, and poured him into bed, where he’d passed out rather than slept.

“Shower, and I’ll ring the front desk for some paracetamol,” Jono said in a quiet voice.

“They call it Tylenol here,” Patrick muttered.

“Hush, you.”

The thought of moving wasn’t appealing, but Patrick knew he needed to. It wouldn’t be the first time he worked while feeling like he wanted to keel over and die, though this time it was self-inflicted as opposed to an injury.

Moving hurt, but he did it anyway, slowly peeling out of the sleep pants he didn’t remember putting on last night. Hauling himself to his feet, head pounding, Patrick turned on the shower and carefully stepped into the tub. The warm spray hit him in the face, and he flinched, the water like needles against his skin.

He tipped his head back to get a mouthful of water, swishing it around before spitting it out. It didn’t get rid of the taste of vomit on his tongue, but it would do for now until he brushed his teeth.

Patrick moved with slow motions to get clean, trying to get his bearings. He was in the process of deciding if he wanted to actually shampoo his hair and make his headache worse by touching his skull when the shower curtain was moved so Jono could enter the shower with him. Jono didn’t say anything, but he did take the soap and start to wash Patrick up.

Patrick let him, staring blankly at the bleached white tile surrounding them, thoughts catching on Persephone’s words from last night.

“Ethan performed a fertility rite at Westberg’s house,” Patrick said slowly, the words coming out rough. He felt every single syllable in his head, but he couldn’t keep quiet about this.

Jono’s hands stilled on his body for a couple of seconds before resuming their soaping. “Fertility? Not sacrificial?”

Patrick closed his eyes, nausea in his belly and guilt a heavy weight