“Is this really necessary?” Jono asked after a moment.
“Yes,” Sage replied flatly.
“Did you talk to our landlord?”
“Gargoyles are allowed to choose what building they want to live on and the owners have to let them. Most people consider their presence an asset to the property value,” Tiarnán said.
Jono eyed the trio of gargoyles sniffing about the front of the building, their stone bodies moving with a surprising smoothness as they searched for the best perches. “They eat pigeons and leave feathers everywhere.”
“They also eat vermin.”
“Does that include trespassing werecreatures?” Marek wanted to know.
Tiarnán’s violet-eyed gaze was steady when he turned to look at Jono. “They don’t care for the taste of your kind’s blood. They’ll tie themselves to the building’s thresholds and settle in tonight. As guards, there are none better for living in a city.”
“If you say so,” Jono said, though he wasn’t sure if their neighbors in the building would appreciate the new arrivals. He wasn’t sure how Patrick would like their presence either.
But as Sage had said, Patrick wasn’t here, so it was his decision to make, and he knew better than to stand in Sage’s way when it came to legally protecting their pack.
“Right, that’s sorted then.” Jono extended his hand toward Tiarnán. “We appreciate you letting the gargoyles know the building had room for them.”
They might have an alliance with the fae, but Jono still knew better than to outright thank them. Tiarnán grasped his hand in a strong grip. “I hope they serve you well.”
The fae lord returned to his town car after the handshake. The dwarf driver chauffeuring him about barely waited for the door to shut before pulling onto the street and driving away, taillights bright in the darkness.
“Shall we?” Sage asked, hiking her tote bag higher on her shoulder.
Jono nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I still think I should go with you,” Marek said.
“If things go tits up, I’d rather not have to worry about your safety. We’ll ring you when the meeting is over.”
Marek made a face but didn’t argue. Sage had already laid out the reasons he was staying behind before handing him her engagement ring for safekeeping. In the event she had to shift tonight, she hadn’t wanted to lose it. She kissed Marek briefly on the mouth before following Jono to the Mustang.
“I’m driving,” Sage told him. “Did you take your potion?”
Jono refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. He was halfway finished with the medicine Victoria had given him, which she knew. “Yes, mum.”
“Hilarious. Get in the car.”
Jono got into the front passenger seat, clenching his teeth against the dull throb in his ribs. The potions were doing their job; he just wished they’d work faster. Jono felt better, but the wound was only halfway healed, though the flulike symptoms had mostly abated. He felt weaker than usual, a fact he knew Lucien would exploit if the master vampire found out.
His only recourse would be Fenrir, and while Lucien knew about his animal-god patron, Jono didn’t want to give over his body to the immortal in a fight with the vampire. Fenrir might opt to murder the arsehole, and that would make a mess of the Night Courts in New York City.
If Patrick came home to the vampires at war with them, Jono really would be sleeping on the sofa.
Emma and Leon followed them to Ginnungagap, refusing to let any car merge between them. They crossed through several known pack territories, none of them friendly, but didn’t stop. The borders that touched up against Lucien’s surrounding Ginnungagap were always fluctuating and continually growing in Lucien’s favor as his Night Court kept making bloody excursions into pack territory.
The warehouse-turned-club in the Meatpacking District was popular these days with a younger crowd who enjoyed taking a walk on the dark side. Finding street parking, even on a Thursday night, was a crapshoot. The alleyway between the warehouse and the next building doubled as parking in a pinch, and that’s where Sage steered them. The Mustang’s headlights flashed over a familiar motorcycle before they went out.
“Do you want my pendant again?” Sage asked, one finger hooked over the platinum chain.
Jono shook his head. “I can’t hide here.”
Sage only nodded and didn’t question his decision. They both got out of the car, the sound of the doors closing echoing in the cold air.
Emma tucked her hands into her puffer coat, her thick hair tied back in a loose fishtail braid. “This place always gives me the creeps.”
“Let’s get inside,” Jono said.
They walked toward the mouth of the alleyway and turned onto the block, passing the queue of people waiting to get into Ginnungagap. Despite the chilly night, most everyone was in club clothes. Jono remembered how that was, queuing up for the clubs back in London that would actually let him inside. With his eyes, it was impossible to hide what he was, and he’d had too many doors over the years slam shut in his face.
The ones to Ginnungagap opened for them, the human servant manning the entrance well aware of who they were and that they were expected.
“VIP section,” the man told them in a low voice. “Our master is waiting.”
Jono ignored the quiet grumblings from those in the queue who were pissed he and his friends were allowed entry without being dressed smart. Jono squared his shoulders and steeled himself to step into the club.
What lived inside the walls of Ginnungagap hadn’t changed since the first time Jono had stepped foot in it. Whatever power resided here always made his skin crawl whenever he crossed the threshold. The noise of the club that had sounded muffled on the pavement was loud enough now to make his ears ring until he dialed down his hearing.
They came into the security foyer where human servants handled payment for the cover charge and the checking of any holy items
