Jono didn’t blink. “What makes you think that will happen?”
“I have one dead hunter and more blood that was at the scene than came from a single body.” Casale leaned back in his seat and eyed Jono. “Word on the street is you’re looking to challenge Estelle and Youssef for the New York City god pack.”
“I don’t hold with gossip.”
“I think it’s less gossip and more truth these days. Those two have been trouble since they took over the pack some years back. I never could figure out why they let you stay.”
Jono shrugged. “I had a good negotiator.”
“One with good eyes,” Casale drawled.
They both knew he was talking about Marek, but Jono didn’t say his friend’s name. “I’m not familiar with the Krossed Knights. They aren’t in England.”
“I’d be surprised if you were. They come out of our south. You still have hunters where you come from though. Messy business no matter the country.”
“They aren’t sanctioned.”
Casale smiled grimly. “They never are.”
Jono scratched at the shadow of a beard he hadn’t yet had time to shave off. “What do you want?”
“This hunter died in vampire territory. They left the body.” Casale pulled a couple of photographs from the bottom of the stack and spread them out. The CCTV screenshot had Jono stiffening in his seat. “I’d ask where you were Wednesday night, but it’s a moot point.”
The slightly blurry image of Jono standing with Leon and Austin in the playground, surrounded by Jamere’s vampires, made Jono’s breath catch in the back of his throat.
Bloody hell.
Maybe he should’ve brought Sage after all, filing deadline or not.
“Now,” Casale said grimly. “The Brooklyn Night Court will say they were guarding their borders. That’s been their excuse for decades. The law says they have every right to do so, whether undead or not, within reason, especially in the face of hunters. What’s your excuse?”
“Thought this was supposed to be a friendly chat?” Jono said slowly, staring at the photographs.
“Murder isn’t friendly.”
Jono looked away from the photographs to meet Casale’s gaze. “Did you ask me to come down so you could arrest me?”
Casale shook his head. “The hunter died in vampire territory. They’ll claim self-defense all the way to the courts. I have detectives working the case who will talk to Jamere and take down whatever story he chooses to give us. You’re the outlier in this mess. I want to know what you were doing there and who is with you in the picture.”
Jono straightened up, glad he had an easy answer to that question. “No.”
“No isn’t going to cut it.”
“No, I’m not telling you who was with me. They’re a pack under my protection, and they’re granted their right to privacy under federal law.”
Casale frowned, tapping a finger against the table in a slow metronome. “So the rumors are true about you forming a second god pack.”
Jono stood, and Casale didn’t tell him to sit back down. “I think we’re done.”
“I think we’re just getting started.” Casale stared at him. “Or you are.”
“And if I am?”
“A civil war is never bloodless or victimless.”
Jono smiled bitterly, thinking of Wade and the few werecreatures they’d saved from Tremaine last August. Of the packs who kept coming to Tempest looking for a drink and someone to save them.
“Certain people think I’m a problem.” Jono nodded at the pictures. “Jamere didn’t.”
“Vampires aren’t friendly with your kind.”
“They’re friendly enough with me.”
“Since when?”
“Am I under arrest?”
Casale shook his head slowly. “No.”
“Then we’re done here. Call Sage next time you want to have a little chat with me.”
Casale stood, the lines around his mouth deepening as he frowned. “New York City doesn’t need a civil war.”
Jono headed for the door. “Sometimes war is inevitable, mate.”
He half thought he’d be arrested once he left the room, but Jono only got the odd look or two from some of the detectives seated at their desks in the bull room. One of them got to her feet, waving at him to follow her toward the exit.
“I’ll escort you out,” Detective Specialist Allison Ramirez said.
“Cheers,” Jono said.
Jono didn’t feel comfortable until he was outside the heavily warded building that housed the PCB in Lower Manhattan, breathing in cold winter air. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and was about to ring his ride when a familiar Escalade pulled to the curb. The window rolled down halfway, and Emma stared at him from behind the steering wheel. The accusation in her gaze hadn’t faded since Ginnungagap.
“Get in,” she said flatly.
Jono bit back a wince. “Where did Leon go?”
“We swapped babysitting duties.” Someone honked in the street behind her and she scowled. “Get in, Jono.”
Jono climbed into the SUV and buckled up. Emma took her foot off the brake and stepped on the gas. She didn’t look at him.
“Leon and I were supposed to go to Queens,” Jono said.
“We swapped that duty, too.”
Jono stretched out his legs and stared straight ahead. He knew why Emma was angry, that the row he could feel building was inevitable, but he figured the place to start was “I’m sorry.”
Emma gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white. She clenched her jaw, muscles standing out in her slim throat. “I hate how your secrets keep getting doled out when we least expect it.”
“They aren’t just my secrets, Em.”
“This one is.” Emma flicked the turn signal before the next light, waiting to turn left. “Sage said she found out in December when you were all past the veil in Tír na nÓg and you told her not to tell us.”
“You can’t be mad at her for keeping my secret.”
“You’ve had an animal-god patron guiding you since you were infected. Do you know how fucking rare that is? More than half the packs in the United States have stopped believing in them. The power they bring is just myths these days.”
“Did it look like I was carrying a myth?” Jono asked quietly.
Emma snorted.
