“If a godhead can return to you, what about Macaria?” Jono asked.
Patrick stiffened beside him. Jono reached for his hand without looking, interlocking their fingers together.
Odin’s gaze settled on Patrick. “He already knows the answer.”
Patrick wouldn’t look at anyone, staring off into the distance with a bleak look in his eyes. “There’s nothing left of Macaria’s vessel. That’s why her godhead is in Hannah’s body, but it already had Hannah’s soul in it.”
“Mortal bodies aren’t capable of carrying a godhead,” Thor said.
“Hannah is still alive.”
“Her body breathes. You can be alive but not living in this world.”
“Mortals can damage your bodies to steal a godhead. That’s what Ethan did with Macaria and what he’s tried every chance he gets when he finds you lot,” Jono pointed out.
“Ra during the Thirty-Day War. Zeus last summer. Now you,” Patrick said.
“Your father did so with the backing of the hells every time. Mortal power alone will never be enough,” Odin said.
“Your duty is to save Macaria. In saving her, you will save all of us,” Frigg said.
Patrick scowled. “I don’t know how you expect me to do that if she has no body to return to. Hannah’s wasn’t enough and still isn’t. That’s the entire reason Ethan bound himself to her.”
“You will find a way.” Frigg’s words carried a weight to them Jono didn’t like. She reached for Odin, placing her hand on his arm. “We should go, my love.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jono asked bitingly. “Not going to do anything about the mess you caused?”
“Aksel Sigfodr is someone I have ceased to be. We have worshippers in Oslo who call to us, and that is where we shall go,” Odin said.
Patrick snorted. “I guess dying is one way for you to get out of a RICO charge.”
The bitterness in Patrick’s voice had Jono wrapping his arm around Patrick’s waist. “Come on, Pat. Let’s go.”
The gods didn’t call them back as they turned to go, leaving the beach and the vigil for the dead behind them. The fog drifted back around them, and the clouds returned overhead. They walked in silence to the pedestrian tunnel that would take them back to the start of the Magnificent Mile.
“It’s not your fault,” Jono said, his breath coming out in white puffs beneath the street lights.
Patrick said nothing, but Jono could smell his guilt over every other scent drifting on the wind through Chicago. He tugged Patrick closer, holding on to him as they walked back to where they’d parked the car.
Patrick never pulled away. After everything they’d fought over and fought through the past few days, Jono would never take that closeness for granted, the same way he knew he’d never let Patrick walk away from him without a fight.
“I’m never flying commercial again,” Wade announced as he climbed into the back seat of the Escalade.
Sage looked over her shoulder at him, both hands resting on the steering wheel. “I take it you enjoyed your flight home on the private jet?”
“Jono let me put in a request for whatever food I wanted yesterday, and they had it all waiting for me when we got on board. I ate everything.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Jono got into the front passenger seat and hauled the door shut. “Thanks for picking us up.”
“Considering you still have a bounty on your head, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone. Besides, I took the morning off.” Sage took her foot off the brake and pulled away from the curb in the passenger pickup area of LaGuardia. “How much longer is Patrick staying in Chicago?”
Jono sighed. “At least another week. Maybe longer. He said he might have to make a stop in DC before coming home.”
Sage kept her eyes on the road and the interweaving mess of vehicles. “Did you find the Morrígan’s staff?”
“No, but Patrick located an invitation to a black market auction of artifacts that might lead to it.”
“Might isn’t helpful.”
“Medb did say she wouldn’t give up the staff unless the payment threshold was met. It’s still something.”
Sage made a face. “True. Did you tell Patrick about the hunters?”
“I did,” Jono said slowly.
“Are you sleeping on our couch?”
“No.”
“They argued,” Wade said from where he sat on one of the middle seats. “And then they made up by having sex on my bed.”
Jono rolled his eyes. “Oh, sod off. We didn’t have sex while you were in the room, and we got you your own hotel room after that.”
Sage glanced at Jono, arching an eyebrow. “So Patrick was angry?”
“You can say I told you so,” Jono said wryly. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”
“I’ll wait until Marek and the rest are off from work. We can do it in surround sound for you at the dinner table tonight.”
“Great.”
Sage laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“Patrick was pissed, like you said he would be. But we talked through it, I apologized, and I promised not to keep things like that from him again.”
“Good.”
“I got us an alliance and recognition with the Chicago god pack. You have to admit I’m doing something right.”
“Maybe, but there’s always room for improvement.”
She said it with a teasing smile, and her scent was full of happiness and mirth. Jono shook his head, laughing a little. Sage was never mean-hearted about her teasing, but their pack’s sense of humor was built on a solid foundation of loving sarcasm and a bit of gallows humor. If she hadn’t needled him, he’d be worried.
“Lucien called the other night. He said he wanted to speak with you when you got back,” Sage said once they were on the highway heading toward the Queensboro Bridge.
“Did he say why?” Jono asked.
Sage shrugged. “No.”
“If he called rather than show up in person, it can’t be much of an emergency. It can wait.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
“We already brokered an alliance with him and the other Night Courts. We can’t jump every time he demands something from us. That’s going to put us in the weaker position and piss off Patrick.”
Sage
