A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,92
on his shoulders. “Hannah.”
He didn’t want to think about the implications of a spell like that, but knew he couldn’t ignore it. Pretending a problem didn’t exist was a luxury Patrick would never get.
Jono gently tugged him backward. Patrick’s shoulders settled against Jono’s chest, strong arms wrapping around him to hold him close. “How do you know?”
Patrick swallowed, wanting desperately to brush his teeth but not wanting to leave Jono’s warmth. “Hermes took me to see Persephone last night. She brought her mother.”
“Demeter?”
“Yeah. Fertility goddess. She said Freyr was involved.”
“Doubt the other Norse gods will be pleased about all this.”
The thought of reporting back to Frigg about more betrayals in their pantheon made Patrick want to crawl back into bed and never leave it.
Jono pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Patrick’s head. “Is that why you went drinking in a blizzard?”
“Not a blizzard yet. I think Thor might have broken up bits of it. The SOA has weather witches trying to keep the worst at bay right now.”
“Pat.”
“I keep not saving her. I keep fucking up.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I—”
Jono raised his hand and gently placed it over Patrick’s mouth. His breath blew warm over the shell of Patrick’s ear when he spoke. “Listen to me, love. You were eight when Ethan tried to murder you, and you thought Hannah had died during that spell. You spent years believing she was dead. What Ethan has done is not on you, it’s on him. This is not your fault.”
“It feels like it is,” Patrick said after Jono removed his hand. “I’m her twin.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible for her.”
“I’m older than her by seven minutes.”
“Being older doesn’t mean anything when you were that young.” Jono gently turned him around, cupping his face with warm hands. “Whatever Ethan has done to her is not your fault. He should’ve been a father to you both, and never was. You aren’t to blame for his selfishness.”
Patrick listed forward and let his head slide free of Jono’s hands to sink down onto his shoulder. “Still have to kill him.”
“Yeah, love. I’ll help.”
Patrick sighed. “Okay.”
Jono took charge that morning when Patrick would’ve preferred to stay in bed. He got Patrick in and out of the shower, made sure he brushed his teeth, and gave him tea instead of coffee, which Patrick thought was an utter betrayal. Patrick complained about the lack of coffee on the drive to Eiketre but still drank the damned tea.
Sunday morning had arrived with Chicago blanketed in snow and more still coming down. Ice was pushing against the shores of Lake Michigan, snow plows and salt trucks were running nonstop, and all flights in and out of O’Hare were delayed. Which meant Patrick’s meeting with the SOA’s only necromancer wasn’t happening until late afternoon at the earliest.
“Fuck,” Patrick muttered as he glared at the email from Setsuna while Jono parked in front of the bar. “Shit. I could’ve slept in.”
“But breakfast,” Wade whined as he got out of the SUV. “I’m hungry. Housekeeping wouldn’t refill my minibar snacks.”
Jono shook his head. “I told you not to touch the minibar in your room.”
“Yeah, but I was hungry.”
Patrick got out of the SUV, wincing at the cold that slapped him in the face. With all of the delays happening, Patrick should have spent his morning at the SOA field office working on the Westberg case now that it had blown up in everyone’s faces. Instead, he, Jono, and Wade were at Eiketre. Patrick would’ve declined the breakfast offer, but when a goddess demanded you show up for a meal, he knew better than to ignore the order.
The front door was unlocked, and they let themselves inside. Magic slithered over Patrick’s shields, making his headache spike and the tea he’d carefully sipped on the drive over threaten to crawl up his throat.
“Be welcome,” Frigg said from where she and Thor sat at a pair of tables shoved together and overflowing with food.
The spread of fresh bread, cheese, meats, pâté, jam, and enough coffee to drown in was almost enough to make up for driving through heavy snowfall, if Patrick felt like eating. It wasn’t quite a blizzard, but it was getting there. Patrick would give it another day, maybe less, before it reached whiteout conditions. The SOA’s weather witches were working double shifts to try to break up some of the weather patterns, but they wouldn’t be able to disrupt it all.
Patrick would choose freezing to death in a blizzard over breaking bread with