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“I should’ve just gone to Maui,” he said, thinking wistfully of all the drinks with little umbrellas he wouldn’t get to enjoy.
I feel you, man!
Patrick hung up without saying goodbye and tucked his phone into the back pocket of his black jeans. He was never going to win employee of the month at this rate.
I mean... I’m not sure he’s trying so hard either.
“Right,” Patrick said, eyeing Allison and Dwayne. “Who wants me to check their soul first? I have to warn you, that spell hurts like a son of a bitch.” In unison, the two pointed at each other, silently volunteering their partner to go first.
Yup. That’s partners right there.
The NYPD officers were more stoic about the process than the handful of neighboring tenants on the floor.
I mean... Isn't it normal?
Patrick’s personal shields did what they were supposed to do and kept his tainted magic contained.
I don’t really like the term «tainted magic» but maybe it’s because I don’t really know what it means in this reality... 🤔
Half the people working had headphones on as they listened to music, a few heads bobbing here and there to a beat no one else could hear. Patrick could see a pool table in one interior room that was clearly a gaming area, along with multiple flat-screen televisions. Despite the hour, a first-person shooting game competition was happening. A snack station full of junk food and healthy food in equal proportions, as well as coffee and beer, was being ransacked for an afternoon pick-me-up by no less than ten people.
I don't know what they do, but I wanna work there.
The whispers in the background weren’t as quiet as the gossipers thought they were.
They're never are....
Patrick’s gaze flicked up and down Leon’s body, automatically checking for weapons and finding none. Not like the man needed one since he was a werecreature.
I mean, yeah. Obviously.
Patrick didn’t envy Marek’s position. Mages, especially combat mages, had a higher risk of dying on the job than other kinds of magic users based solely on the types of missions and cases they handled. Seers on the other hand, they went blind, their power increasing in strength with every color they lost until the only thing they could see was the future. Most went crazy after their slow slide into darkness and ended up dead, usually by way of suicide.
That’s terrifying omg 😱
Apparently, when the husband of Manhattan’s most powerful high priestess witch of an old coven went missing, people paid attention.
Duh! No kidding!
Patrick had a bad habit of bringing work home with him. He’d learned over the years that demons had ingrained stalker tendencies and would never understand the concept of personal space.
I mean... They’re DEMONS!
“I’m way too fucking sober to deal with you.” “Still traveling with alcohol? You really shouldn’t—” “Touch my whiskey, get shot.” Hermes flipped him off. “Wouldn’t kill me. Sit down, Pattycakes. We’ve things to discuss.”
I don’t really know why I laughed so much. 🙊
Jono got into the back seat—but not before making a point to get into Patrick’s personal space and brush against him. Patrick bit his lip, refusing to give ground, and told his traitorous dick that now was not the time to be interested. Judging by Jono’s knowing look, Patrick had failed to keep his attraction to himself.
I mean, you SAID the werecreatures CAN smell you (if you don’t hide your smell) so OBVIOUSLY he KNOWS. 🙄
The subway was probably the safest public place in the City against demons right now. Patrick couldn’t say anything about pickpockets.
You can’t have everything. I’d pick pickpockets to demons any days! 🤷🏻♀️
No, he’d gone straight for blue blood territory, buying up an entire Art Deco building. Patrick was vaguely jealous. If he’d come into that much wealth at a young age, he probably would’ve bought a tropical island somewhere and never told anyone the location.
Why bother? When you can have everything. Take everything, right? 😂
Patrick refused to rise to the bait in Jono’s words, wanting more than anything to dive into his whiskey bottle. If Hermes had come back and stolen it, they were going to have a short conversation over the barrel of his handgun.
I don’t know why, but I don’t think Patrick like Hermes very much... 🤔
“Focus on the case,” Patrick muttered under his breath. Because the murders needed his attention more than the hot as fuck werewolf sleeping on his couch.
Isn’t it obvious? No? Okay.
Patrick wondered if it was too tactless to hope another body would turn up within the next hour and give him an excuse to miss the meeting.
Yeah, No!
Patrick wasn’t doing anything work related until he had some coffee.
Like most human in the word.
When Patrick came into the living room, he found Jono lying on the floor instead of the couch, shirtless, with one arm thrown over his eyes.
Oh, hot guy! *swoon*
Patrick stopped staring at his phone in favor of staring at Jono, idly wondering if Jono’s muscle definition was as hard as it looked and if he could maybe check using his tongue. For scientific reasons, of course.
Of course!
Jono very obviously let his gaze travel up and down Patrick’s body. “I’d rather break the rules like last night.” “Last night was a onetime-only thing.” “Of course it was,” Jono drawled.
“Someone just tried to kill you,” Casale said. “They did a shitty job of it since I’m still breathing.”
That's not the point, but go on, I guess!
Just because someone had tried to murder him didn’t mean Patrick had time to take a break.
He ached, right down to his bones, a gritty, low-grade pain that stemmed from the shredded pieces of his soul and partially drained magic, courtesy of the soultaker. He needed a couple of days of uninterrupted rest to heal both problems, but at this rate, Patrick doubted he’d get any.
Honestly, I can understand why he's a such asshole. I wanna force hugging him and give him food to fix him and make him whole again! (I do hope he'll find someone *cough* Jono *cough* who can.) 🥺
Patrick preferred being cautious over being dead.
Same.
“I’m going to kill him,” Patrick said. “Defeats the purpose of keeping him safe, yeah?” Jono replied. “He’d be safe in a grave.”
Omg. I love the banter, but please don't kill him.
Patrick really didn’t want to take it, but fuck, that was some good whiskey right there.
You're a weak, weak man, Patrick. And an alcoholic, too.
“I see that necrophilia thing is still working out for you,” Patrick said. “I see your manners haven’t improved.” “I save them for the living.” Carmen’s smile grew wider, though Einar looked like he was contemplating murder.
The first thing Patrick noticed as they closed in on the building was the hellish taint from black magic seeping into the street. The recognition burned against Patrick’s weakened magic, the feel of the taint stronger than he remembered it being at the last two crime scenes.
I have a bad feeling about it....
“I fucking hate it when they run,” Patrick said to no one in particular.
Don't we all?
The guy ran across the street, heedless of the moving vehicles around him, and made it to the other side without getting run over. Which was an utter fucking shame.
Jono shook his head before making a looping turn in the small space. He ran at the wall, kicking one foot out to hit the side of the dirty building and propel himself upward with preternatural strength. Jono grabbed the railing of the first landing one full story above them and easily hauled himself over. It took him less than thirty seconds to extend the ladder down to the ground so Patrick could climb up.
“Are you mental?” Jono yelled at him in disbelief. Patrick shrugged. “I’m gonna plead the Fifth on that.” Jono stared at him for a few more seconds before looking over the side of the railing at where the sorcerer hovered in the air, still screaming his fool head off.
Lucien’s business might be exceptionally illegal, but no one ever complained about the products he sold on the black market. Those that did usually ended up dead.
Yeah, that's actually a good reason.
He didn’t know if Jono was still alive, and Patrick desperately needed that answer to be yes.
Same babe, same.
“No fucking shit,” Patrick snapped. “I need to get to Central Park.” Hermes rolled his eyes. “I am aware of that, Pattycakes.”
I don't know if I hate him, or if I love hating him...
“That’s one way to kill them,” Nadine said. “Remind me to never piss her off.”
Same! She's badass thought.
“My vampires will be leaving the field without being arrested when this over. If any of your people try to stop mine, they won’t live to see dawn,” Lucien said coolly as he hiked the grenade launcher onto one shoulder. Patrick waved off the threat in his voice. “Sure, sure. I told them you were my CI, but I didn’t use your name. Try and keep your face covered, and make a run for it when the fight is over.” “Your planning skills still leave plenty to be desired.”
“I don’t think the City is going to appreciate your attempt at relandscaping,” Patrick said. “Do your fucking job before I rip out your throat.”
I shouldn't laughed at that!
