Jono’s claws sank into burning flesh, the acid scoring his fur and skin before healing in seconds. Fenrir’s presence in him was enough to survive the sulfuric acid that gave the hellhounds life.
The attack aimed at them by Hades was a different story entirely.
Jono and Fenrir saw the hellfire bomb flying toward them through the snow and had only a single second to twist out of the way. It scorched his fur as they retreated, the smell of burning fur reaching his nose. It exploded close by, sending dirt and snow and burning bits of flame into the air. The only reason they didn’t get a face full of hellfire was the shield Patrick erected between them and the bomb.
Fenrir launched them away from the epicenter and that wall of protection, dodging the fallout even as the hellhounds cut in close, surrounding them. Fenrir growled a furious warning—and the sound was echoed by the rumbling thunder of motorcycle engines.
The valkyries’ battle cries cut through the air with a shriek that would’ve made Jono’s ears twitch if he had control of his body. Fenrir snapped his teeth at the nearest hellhound, catching the edge of the beast’s jaw and tearing through muscle before he slipped out of reach.
Garmr howled a warning, head snapping from side to side as the hellhound tracked the valkyries driving toward them from both ends of the street. The other hellhounds joined the cry, and it was answered by the more familiar howls of wolves. The wind blowing strong over Lincoln Park carried with it the scent of pack and wolves. Dark streaks raced over the snowy ground from the north as werecreatures came to join the fight.
Best give me back control, Jono warned Fenrir.
There was a moment when he didn’t think the god would relinquish his body, but then control came back in a buzz of nerve connections that made Jono shake his great wolf head. He snapped his teeth together, shifting his position to be closer to Patrick and Wade where they still stood behind the shield.
Hades’ hands dripped hellfire, the snow around his feet having melted into a puddle that stained his Oxfords. The god stared at Patrick with so much hatred in his eyes that Jono wanted to shield Patrick with his body.
“You should have died,” Hades said.
“Talk to your wife,” Patrick shot back.
A blur of motion cut through the air. One of the hellhounds arched its back from the hit, a valkyrie’s spear protruding from its side. The valkyries were closing in, with Brynhildr leading one group and Eir the other. The motorcycles ate up the snowy ground easily, and before Fenrir relinquished his sight completely, Jono got a flash of winged horses overlaid on the vehicles the valkyries rode.
More spears cut through the air, one aiming for Hades’ heart. It never found its home, as the god stepped backward through the veil, gray fog swallowing him before the weapon ever reached him. Garmr snarled viciously before racing away from the fight, heading east around Patrick’s shield, and several hellhounds followed. Patrick stayed his hand due to the werecreatures that finally made it to their location, snarling and snapping at the few hellhounds who remained.
Several valkyries launched themselves off their motorcycles, the vehicles driving out of range on their own. They landed in the midst of the hellhounds, the small group a whirlwind of violence, their spears cutting open the beasts with well-placed thrusts. Brynhildr drove around Patrick’s shield to pull the spear she’d thrown at Hades out of the ground, spinning it around with a practiced hand. Some of the werecreatures who had arrived gave her a wide berth.
Brynhildr shoved her visor up. “We heard Garmr’s howl and came as quick as we could.”
Jono shook snow and blood off his fur and changed back to human in a writhing twist of skin, bone, and muscles. Joints ground together and muscles snapped to attach to new locations. The colors of the world became slightly muted, the sharpness fading. Standing naked in the snow, Jono ground his teeth together against the chill that wanted to make them chatter.
“They attacked us in the street,” Patrick said as he lowered his shields. He conjured a mageglobe and sent it toward Jono. The heat pouring off it was welcome. “I’m betting the cops will arrive soon, so all of you need to go. I’ll handle the authorities.”
“What about the dead hellhounds?” Wade asked.
Patrick grimaced. “Leave them. They’re evidence. I’ll burn them after we get crime scene pictures.”
“I don’t think you’ll have much time for evidence gathering in this storm,” Jono said.
Two of the werewolves started to shift as well, their bright amber eyes the only things staying the same from wolf to human. Like Jono, neither of them cared about being nude with an audience. Jono assumed they were Naomi White Hawk and Alejandro Perez, the god pack alphas Patrick had dealt with earlier in the week.
“Our home is nearby. We can house you there,” Naomi offered. She nodded at Jono, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own. “Jonothon. My dire told us you were in town.”
“Naomi. Alejandro. Haven’t had a chance for a proper introduction. As you can see, we’ve been a bit busy,” he said by way of apology.
“Killing hellspawn, dealing with dead bodies, trying to stay out of reach of the cops,” Patrick said pointedly.
“We can escort all of you to your territory home,” Brynhildr said to Naomi. The god pack alpha’s expression never changed, but her scent took on a sharp, worried layer to it. Jono figured she and the rest of her pack had finally gotten a whiff of the immortals and didn’t know what to make of them.
“Does that mean I get to ride a motorcycle?” Wade asked excitedly, practically dancing on his feet.
“You’re still not allowed one
