“She’ll have it,” Jono promised.
“It’s not yours to give,” Estelle bit out. The hunters who had come with her spread out a little, and Jono tracked their movements.
“Did you miss the part where we’re the New York City god pack and not you?” Patrick shot back.
Before Estelle could respond, the loud revving of motorcycle engines filled the air, the noise familiar from their time in Chicago. Jono wasn’t the only one who looked down the street at the convoy of motorcycles turning the corner onto Avenue B.
Brynhildr led the way on her Harley Davidson, Eir seated behind her and wearing her cat-eared helmet. Jono relaxed a little as some of the valkyries illegally crossed the meridian to bypass the double-parked vehicles, boxing in Estelle and the hunters. Estelle’s shoulders stiffened as her head moved from side to side, taking in the threat the valkyries presented. The hunters drew back, stepping closer to each other. Jono took a deep breath, curious at how the scent of sulfur seemed to diminish.
Brynhildr revved her motorcycle’s engine and drove right toward Estelle’s door, forcing her to scramble out of the way. Brynhildr took her time driving between Marek’s Maserati and the car in front of him to jump the curb and park on the sidewalk. She killed the engine but didn’t bother with the kickstand.
Brynhildr pulled her helmet off, shaking free her long blonde hair. Behind her, Eir did the same, climbing off Dynfari with a smooth motion.
“Long way from Chicago,” Jono said by way of a greeting.
“We’re in New York to get Eir another ride,” Brynhildr said, smirking a little. “And to bring you a gift.”
“Uh,” Patrick said, probably thinking of how not to accept it, because Jono was as well.
Brynhildr laughed. “Freely given. No strings attached.”
Jono looked in the direction she nodded and saw Skuld approaching. The red-haired valkyrie carried a crate of mead wider than she was, but she didn’t seem bothered by the weight of it.
“We heard you served good beer, but were missing something from your menu,” Skuld said with a wink.
“What is it?” Emma asked curiously.
“Mead.”
“Do you sell it through wholesalers?”
“No. You’d purchase it direct from the brewery if you like it.”
“Please don’t like it,” Patrick muttered.
Emma ignored him and waved Skuld toward the entrance to the bar. “Come inside so I can take a look and have a taste.”
The rest of the valkyries were parking their motorcycles on the sidewalk since no street parking was available near the bar. Jono hoped whatever glamour surrounded the pegasi was enough to keep them hidden from traffic enforcement agents and anyone else walking down the street.
Brynhildr gave Dynfari one last pat on the handlebar before dismounting. She stood beside her ride and stared at Estelle and the hunter in charge, a hint of ozone drifting through the air. Jono watched the way Estelle’s fingers made dents in the edge of the doorframe before she caught herself. The valkyries turned as one to face the threat on the street.
“Who is she?” Brynhildr asked with the curiosity of a hunter having found prey.
Jono thought of all the ways he could possibly respond and went with the easiest. “No one who matters.”
Maybe it was a bit of a lie, but the underlying truth was a foundation Estelle couldn’t break. They had alliances with the fae and vampires, and at least one major god pack in the country had acknowledged them over Estelle’s. Estelle might have sold her soul to bargain with hunters, but they were as much a threat as a partner. She’d have to watch her own back with them, and that would never make her or her pack strong in the long run.
Jono watched the way Estelle subtly signaled her pack members to get back into the SUV. The hunters only followed when their leader retreated into the lead SUV as well. Whatever fight Estelle had hoped to provoke, it wasn’t happening now, not with the valkyries having interrupted them.
The three vehicles drove off. Jono didn’t look away until they’d turned the corner, the tension in his shoulders easing only when the threat was gone—for now.
“Is that Dynfari?” Wade shouted in glee.
Patrick peered around Jono at where Wade was running down the block toward them. “How did he even know they were here?”
“They probably drove past the Starbucks,” Jono said.
“I guess it was too much to hope he’d actually do his homework.”
“Dynfari likes him,” Brynhildr said.
“Of course she does.” Patrick raised his voice a little. “Go back to the Starbucks when you’re done saying hello, Wade.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wade replied, clearly ignoring them in favor of the pegasi masquerading as motorcycles.
“You’re still not getting one.”
Brynhildr smirked. “We know a dwarf who owns a garage. We’re going there tomorrow.”
“No,” Patrick stressed, rounding on her. “Zip it. Not one word.”
Wade stared at Brynhildr from his crouched position beside the pegasus masquerading as a Harley Davidson. “Tell me more.”
“That’s it. I need a drink. Jono, where’s my drink?”
Jono snorted. “On the counter where you left it before we were interrupted. Sage?”
“Leon and I will work out where to put Marissa,” Sage told him.
She was already guiding Marissa into the bar. Since Fenrir hadn’t issued a warning about her, Jono figured she had a legitimate need and wasn’t a plant. Jono caught Patrick by the elbow and guided him back inside Tempest.
“You’re all welcome to stay,” Jono tossed over his shoulder at Brynhildr.
He wasn’t surprised when the valkyries came into the bar and stayed. They hailed from a drinking culture, and it was only polite to serve them. Only his pack, Emma, Leon, and Marek knew their true identities, but it didn’t matter. Tempest was an integral part of their territory, the place where they officially accepted guests—immortals included—into New York City.
More than that, it was the people who filled the bar, who always showed up when the need arose, that told Jono what they were
