“That was quick,” Kelly said in a low voice as they waited for the elevator.
“He lawyered up,” Patrick said.
“We could’ve told you that instead of wasting a trip down here and tipping our hand more than strictly necessary that he’s being targeted. Politicians of any party never like the optics of a federal visit.”
Patrick didn’t say anything to that accusation. The three of them rode the elevator back down to the lobby in silence. Kelly and Benjamin headed for their unmarked car without a goodbye. Patrick headed for his SUV, ducking his head against the wind. The air was sharp and cold when he breathed, burning the inside of his nose with every breath. The weather had been strange ever since his lunch meeting with Odin, and Patrick didn’t know what to make of that.
Unlike New York City, Chicago didn’t have a nexus buried far beneath the city’s foundation. The closest one was found beneath the waters of Lake Michigan, a possible contributing factor to all the legends about the monsters that dwelled within the fresh water.
Most people forgot that the lake was the monster. Sometimes nature was stranger and more terrifying than any story humans could tell.
Patrick drove away from the campaign headquarters. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before pulling out his phone and calling Jono. He hadn’t set the rental for hands-free, and so kept the phone pressed to his ear while keeping both eyes on the road.
“Hey,” Jono said through a yawn when he picked up.
“Hey,” Patrick replied. “Did I wake you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I can let you go back to sleep.”
“I like listening to your voice more. What’s going on?”
“Still working the case. Hitting some dead ends, but the place I’m going to tonight might give me more information.”
“Yeah? That’s good, innit?”
“Maybe.” Patrick sighed tiredly. “How’s everything in New York?”
“You know, the usual.”
“I tried calling you last night, but you never picked up. Busy night at the bar?”
Jono yawned again, the sound crackling through the speaker. “It was late when I finally saw your missed calls. I didn’t want to wake you, so I never rang back.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if you had. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate hotel rooms now?”
“Because you’re sharing one with Wade?”
“Aside from that.”
“I miss you, too, love,” Jono said quietly.
Patrick’s shoulders loosened a little at that confession. It always left a warm feeling in his chest knowing who he had waiting for him when he finished a case. “I know.”
“Finish your case so you can come home.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You’re driving, so I’m going to let you go. Ring me later, yeah?”
“Will do.”
Patrick ended the call and dropped his phone in the cupholder in the console between the front seats. As frustrating as each passing day in Chicago was becoming, talking to Jono always put him in a better mood.
Eiketre was located in Andersonville, in the North Side of Chicago. Built on a narrow street facing the fenced-off Rosehill Cemetery, the bar wasn’t near any residential buildings, which was probably a good thing. The raucous noise could be heard even through the closed windows. An empty patio beneath a snow-coated pergola indicated tables were probably in use during the summer, but they’d been stored for the winter. Strangely blooming vines twined through the low iron fence surrounding the front patio area.
The front of the building was covered with weathered wooden boards, giving it a rustic look. The bar’s name was carved into one such panel over the door, the tiny designs surrounding the letters made up of intricate wards that were geared toward a healthy hearth and home. The bar was connected to an even larger building that looked as if it could have housed a small brewery.
Patrick tucked his keys into his jeans pocket and studied the exterior with a wary eye. Unlike with Westberg’s campaign manager, he could feel the presence of gods in this place like it was the only lighthouse in a storm.
“They aren’t subtle,” Patrick mused.
Wade hummed low in the back of his throat. “Am I allowed inside?”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
Wade shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Not gonna let you face them alone.”
“Then come on.”
They passed through the open gate and headed for the front door, pushing it open. A blast of warm air hit them in the face, and Patrick immediately started sweating from the heat. The sudden change in temperature didn’t seem to bother Wade.
A very tall, very broad man sporting blond hair and a beard sat on a stool just past the door, blocking the entrance to the bar itself. He looked up from his phone, gaze skipping from Patrick to Wade. He shook his head. “No one under twenty-one allowed.”
“He’s with me,” Patrick said.
“That’s great and all, but you’ll need to go somewhere else.”
Patrick pulled out his badge and flipped it open. “He’s with me.”
The man squinted at the ID and SOA seal printed on it before grimacing. “Right. Is this an official visit?”
Patrick put his badge away, eyeing the leather corded necklace the man wore with the metal hammer pendant hanging from it. “We were told to speak to the owner.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. “He’s working the bar tonight.”
Patrick nodded, then gestured for Wade to follow him into the crowd. “Keep close.”
Wade’s hand latched onto his belt from behind. “Like I’m going anywhere.”
“And keep your hands to yourself.”
“Uh, sure.”
Patrick didn’t hold out any hope that Wade’s sticky fingers wouldn’t come away with other people’s belongings, but now wasn’t the time to argue. Getting through the Friday night crowd was an effort in elbow pushing.
