Odin leaned back in his seat and gestured expansively with one hand at the empty restaurant around them. “A mayoral candidate is scheduled to hold a fundraiser dinner here this weekend. He will not be the only one to come into my abode and ask a favor. The name I am known by in this city is one that cannot be ignored if you wish to do politics here. The old way of tithing has been lost to history, but we’ve found other avenues to gain prayers.”
Patrick grimaced. “That’s blackmail.”
“It is only blackmail if you can prove it.” Odin pinned Patrick with a look that cut straight to his soul, making cold sweat slide down his back. “I do not fear the Dominion Sect. The Norns have not seen the future since Persephone offered you a choice, but the blindness runs both ways. The Moirai and those gods who ally themselves with Ethan will fight for a future that is not guaranteed, the same way we must. The only way to lay claim to it is to kill your past.”
Frigg pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “Let me show you to the door. I believe the rain has stopped.”
Patrick stood, tugging at Wade’s arm to get him up as well. “Let’s go.”
Odin’s searing gaze was one Patrick could not meet. “Remember what I said. You owe a duty to us.”
“I was dying as a child and didn’t know any better.” Patrick turned away from the table, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to hide how they shook. “We all make mistakes.”
Frigg led the way to the doors of the restaurant, the front-of-house area now empty of workers. She came to a stop with one hand resting on the door handle, studying Patrick with kind blue eyes he didn’t trust.
“My husband believes nothing can touch him in this city that belongs to us,” Frigg said.
“I always wondered why Chicago politics and the general state at large were so corrupt. It makes sense now,” Patrick said. “Also the homicide count.”
Frigg’s mouth twitched downward at the corners ever so slightly. “War exists in all places.”
“Yeah, but a war god exacerbates it.”
“Do you truly believe Odin is a target?”
Patrick shrugged. “Ethan went after Ra and Zeus. What makes you think he’d stop at two when there are hundreds of myths in the world to steal a godhead from? You and Odin aren’t subtle with your whole pay-to-play scheme going on here.”
“It is our right to survive.”
“At the expense of everyone else?”
Frigg pushed open the door, letting in a cold breeze that didn’t seem to bother her at all. “I worry for my husband. He thinks his ravens can keep him safe forever.”
“Why?”
“Muninn and Huginn hear all thoughts and carry all memories to Odin’s ears. They can remove what knowledge Ethan has gained about godheads and bring it to Odin for safekeeping.”
Personally, Patrick wouldn’t trust a god with anything like that. “Then why the fuck do you need me if you have them?”
“Because the Dominion Sect and the gods of all the hells keep Macaria and Ethan hidden the same way we gods of the heavens endeavored to keep you safe as you grew to adulthood. With the way Ethan is bound to your twin and Macaria, erasing his memory risks erasing Macaria’s existence. Persephone will never allow it.”
“But she’ll allow his death.”
“Death severs all bindings. It is the way of things.” Frigg nodded at the exit and the cars passing on the street beyond it. “The storm has passed, but I feel another is brewing. Odin may be cavalier about his safety, but I never have been. You should visit his son at Eiketre.”
“You know, I actually do have a case I need to work on here. Making stops at bars while on the clock isn’t a good look.”
“Then go after your work is finished, but you will go.”
The firmness of her words told Patrick arguing would be a lost cause. Patrick scowled as they left Au Hall behind, ducking his head against the fierce wind. Wade kept pace as they hurried down the block for the underground entrance that would lead back to the parking garage.
“What now? Are you going to the bar?” Wade asked.
Patrick sighed as they descended into the slightly warmer underground area, trying to ignore the headache growing behind his eyes. “Eventually. I need to set up a meeting with the SAIC out here about Westberg first.”
“Are you going to tell them his campaign manager is a god in disguise?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because most people don’t believe in gods, and I tend to not trust anyone in the SOA out of principle.”
“Is that why you brought me along?”
Patrick glanced over his shoulder at the dark-haired teen. “You’re pack, and I trust you.”
Wade seemed pleased about that. “Does that mean I’m going to the SOA with you?”
“No. You’re going back to the hotel where you’ll stay put this time and do some homework.”
Wade groaned. “That’s not fun.”
“Work never is. Welcome to adulthood.”
“Adulthood sucks. I want to return it.”
Patrick snorted out a tired laugh. “You and me both.”
8
“How are things in Chicago?” Jono asked, pressing the mobile tight to his ear. He peered out the front door of the ground-floor landing in their building, eyeing everyone milling about on the pavement.
“A mess, like usual. I’m going to be here at least through Sunday,” Patrick replied. He sounded annoyed and tired, but with no underlying hint of pain. Jono had gotten adept at parsing out the tone of Patrick’s voice when he was trying to hide a wound.
“Do you think you’ll come home next week?”
“Depends on what happens with the case.”
Jono didn’t ask, well aware of Patrick’s reticence to speak about anything work related over an unsecured line. “I’m about to head out to work. Ring me later?”
“Always.”
“Love you.”
“Stay safe.”
Patrick ended the call, and Jono shoved the mobile into his back pocket before opening the front door. He ducked his head against the cold wind
