An Echo in the Sorrow (Soulbound, #6)

by Hailey Turner

“What do you keep hitting?” Patrick gripped the top edge of the vending machine and tried to shake it with one hand, which didn’t really work. “Break room vending machine ate my money and won’t give me my chips.” Sage laughed in his ear. “You sound like Wade.” “Unlike Wade, I’m not going to vandalize the damn thing.” “Are you sure about that?”

Wade Espinoza was a nineteen-year-old fledgling fire dragon they’d rescued a year ago from vampires and brought into their god pack. Keeping him fed definitely put a dent in their pack tithes. He was known to buy out the snack aisle in Target on the regular when he wasn’t hoarding the latest shiny object to catch his eye.

Patrick clenched his left hand into a fist, remembering how Srecha’s blessing had burned him, though it didn’t compare to the way the Morrígan’s staff had hungered for his soul. Her blessing had turned into a prayer, one the Morrígan’s staff had answered with the resurrection of the mother of all vampires. The carved raven Patrick had broken off from it was currently hidden away in his nightstand drawer, along with the last Greek coin from the ones Hermes had given him last summer as payment for the dead. It wasn’t the best hiding spot by far, but both artifacts remained quiescent.

Jono didn’t mind stripping down to his underwear. He wouldn’t have cared if he needed to be naked. Most werecreatures didn’t, and Marek had learned not to be over the years after joining the Tempest pack. He passed his clothes to one of the assistants, nostrils flaring slightly at the brief hint of attraction seeping through a couple of harsher scents. Better than fear, but that wasn’t saying much. Jono knew people were attracted to his body until they saw his eyes. Few people wanted him after that realization.

These days, Jono couldn’t imagine his life without Patrick in it. Soulbond aside, they were never going to walk away from each other, and helping out with Sage and Marek’s wedding had got him thinking about his own future with Patrick. They were already bound to each other, having promised to never leave, but Jono wouldn’t mind seeing Patrick wearing a wedding band.

The charcoal-gray color was paired with a natural green tie and handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket to match the wedding colors. The style was sleek and classic, with little embellishments. The material was luxurious and didn’t itch his skin, the tailoring masterful, and the overall fit pretty much perfect for a wedding.

Marek stood, gaze raking up and down Jono’s naked, bloody body. He made a face. “You ruined your wedding suit. Sage is going to be so mad.” “She’s going to be bloody pissed about the hunters.”

Patrick spotted Jono immediately. He didn’t care about their audience when he finally made it to Jono’s side, framing the other man’s face with both hands. Patrick kissed him with a bruising intensity that didn’t do anything to ease the knot of fear in his chest. “I’m all right, love,” Jono said when Patrick broke the kiss. Patrick was glad to see he looked it, but the tightness around his mouth spoke of choked-down fury. “Not everyone else is,” Patrick said, taking the empty seat to Jono’s right. “Fuck. This was a coordinated attack.” “Aimed at the strongest packs under our protection. Two people are dead. One pack member each from the Monterossi pack and the Davenport pack,” Sage said.

“New York City can’t afford a civil war between god packs.” “Bit late for that, innit?” Jono straightened up, letting his arms fall to his sides. “As I said, it’s within my right to protect my territory. Are your people interrogating Estelle and Youssef the same way you’re interrogating me?” “We’re aware of their pack’s actions over the last few months.” Jono’s lips curled. “But not their actions, specifically, is that it?”

“Are you only warning me?” “You and Collins.” “I don’t know what you’re implying.” Casale shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Don’t play dumb. It’s a crap look on you. We both know his place in your pack. I’ve already warned him people are starting to question his presence with you every time something goes down. Tonight isn’t going to stop people from thinking otherwise.”

“We can’t let this attack slide,” Patrick said quietly. Jono drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I know.” Patrick’s hand on his hip tightened, but he said nothing more. Jono closed his eyes, thoughts spinning, hoping for at least a couple of hours of sleep. He tried not to think how moments like this, lying in bed with each other, might be limited.

The door had barely shut before the driver sped off with a squeal of tires. Wade raised both middle fingers at the car as it disappeared down the street. “He was a rude asshole.”

Wade linked his hands behind his head as he walked, side-eyeing Jono. “Can we stop at a bodega on the way to the subway?” “You’re not supposed to eat in the subway,” Jono reminded him. “I’ll finish the food before we get there.” It was a promise Jono knew Wade would have no trouble keeping. He shrugged. “All right.” Wade grinned widely and raised an arm to fist-pump the air. “Yes!” “You act like I didn’t make you breakfast.” “That was hours ago.” “Barely two.”

“It’s a shame the spirits of my children don’t get along,” Áłtsé Hashké said, mustache twitching above his lips as he smiled. Wade grabbed Jono’s arm with tight fingers, but Jono held up his hand to ward off whatever the teen was going to yell about. “Shut it.” It didn’t work. “He smells like lightning!” Wade hissed.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you and ruin you?” Andras asked through the hunter’s mouth. Jono couldn’t speak, not in his current form, so Wade did the talking for him. “Big words for an ugly-ass meat suit I can crispify in two seconds,” Wade said right before he let loose an explosion of dragon fire so hot it melted metal.

Wade hefted the fae onto one shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “What are you going to do?” “Find us a way out.” “What about when the police get here? What do we tell them?” “Tell them you ran for cover and didn’t see anything.” It was a lie, but one they had to stick with. People didn’t believe in gods anymore, and Wade’s status as a dragon wasn’t something the police as a whole needed to know about. His part of the fight in Paris was still making the rounds on social media in recorded videos, but his identity had been something Patrick had fiercely fought to keep out of the public domain.

The group of passengers he and Wade had escorted through the tunnel had been intercepted by police and other first responders. Most of the passengers had been allowed to leave with their hands over their heads after the first frantic minutes. Jono, however, had been treated like a threat because of the state he’d been in—naked, bloody, and very obviously a werecreature.

Wade sat on the sofa covered in crumbs and the detritus of what looked like six Pop-Tart boxes. Patrick followed Jono’s gaze. “Wade’s been stress eating.” “You almost get crushed like a soda can where the train you’re in is the can and tell me how you feel afterwards,” Wade retorted, opening another silvery foil packet.

Danai made a contemplative sound in the back of her throat. “I may not be able to smell the difference between a lie and a truth, but I know when clients are holding back information. Not disclosing the truth to me will only hurt you in the future.” “They’re trying to protect me,” Wade said. Patrick groaned. “Wade.” “What? That’s what you guys are doing. Jono told me not to tell the police I was there when all the fighting happened, but I was the one who melted part of the train. They’re gonna ask about that, won’t they?” “We’d have figured out a way to keep you out of it if that happened.” Wade scowled. “But what if it got you guys in trouble? You can’t protect the packs if you’re in jail.” “A charge would also put your visa at risk, Jono,” Sage pointed out. “We don’t know her,” Patrick said, jerking his head in Danai’s direction.

Catching Wade’s eye, Jono gave the teenager a nod. “It’s up to you,” Jono said. Wade sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m a fire dragon.” Danai blinked at him. “Excuse me?” Red scales pushed through human skin, flowing up Wade’s neck and over his jaw to cover his face. Brown eyes turned gold, pupils elongating to black slits. Danai’s eyes went wide, her laptop nearly sliding to the ground. She quickly pulled it back, but other than the surprise seeping into her scent, that was the only giveaway of her reaction. “Human magic doesn’t have any effect on me. I stopped the mage’s spells while Jono fought the werecreatures and hunters.” Wade glanced at Jono, wiping his fingers on his jeans. “He told me not to tell the police that.” “I see,” Danai said slowly. “I don’t think I’ll be putting that into my notes.”

“I have a meeting with Lucien and Ashanti tomorrow about this whole fucking mess.” “Do you want me to go to that one as well?” Jono asked as he followed after Patrick. “No. I’ll be going on my lunch break, whenever I can take it. Besides, we really shouldn’t be seen together right now.” The words came out reluctantly, and Jono’s knee-jerk reaction was to protest, but he knew Patrick was right. Despite co-leading their pack, revealing Patrick’s position right now would only make their problems worse.

“We’ll get through this,” Jono murmured against Patrick’s lips, kissing him softly. “Together.” Because that was the only way they’d ever stand against the world.

“Here to beg for help?” Lucien asked, lips curling over jagged fangs. “Here to ask,” Patrick shot back. “Your Night Court holds a treaty with our god pack still. Joint defense of our territory borders is still ongoing.” “Treaties don’t mean we’re obligated to save your ass every time you lose a fight.” “The other god pack used hellfire in their attack Tuesday night, which means there’s a strong chance Hades is back in town. The attack yesterday proved Andras is here in New York. Jono said the demon was riding the soul of a hunter in the subway yesterday. Do you really want to face a Great Marquis of Hell allied with the Dominion Sect alone? Because we don’t.”

“The fucking press. A few reporters were waiting outside the bar when I left, and there were some near the flat. The gargoyles were keeping those ones at bay.” “At least those stone rats are good for something.” Jono quirked a tired smile at him. “Be nice, love.” “They’re messy. They leave pigeon feathers everywhere and try to steal my coffee when I leave for work. They don’t even do that to Wade.” “They know Wade wouldn’t stand for it.”

“We need to strike back,” Patrick said quietly.

“I know. So does Fenrir.” Warm lips pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We aren’t running away from this.”

“I told you last year getting involved with pack politics would only cause problems.” “The gods gave me Jono.” “Who was an independent-ranked werecreature at the time. You should’ve kept it that way.” “No,” Patrick ground out. “Jono deserved to have a pack.” “Then you shouldn’t have been a part of it.” “He gave me a family. That’s more than you’ve ever done for me.”

“I did what I had to so that you stayed alive,” Setsuna said in a voice that was flat and leached of all emotion. “By changing my name, boarding me at an Academy, and sending me off to the Citadel to prepare me for the Mage Corps. You hid me from Ethan because the gods told you to.” “I supported you.” Patrick kept his eyes on the road, ignoring the way his stomach twisted in his gut. “Maybe. But a house doesn’t make a home if you’re a burden to the people in it.”

Estelle raised her chin, blinking back tears. “There are only two people who wanted to see me and Youssef dead, who stood to gain everything with our fall. The police need look no further for my husband’s murderer than the foreign pack who seeks to dethrone us, led by Jonothon de Vere and SOA Special Agent Patrick Collins.”

Patrick shrugged. “My job is hanging by a thread, they keep targeting you, and at some point, some kind of charge is going to stick that will affect your visa. If we’re separated, that halves my power.” Unspoken went the fact that their soulbond was illegal, and if it was discovered, Patrick would be charged with a capital crime for interfering with someone else’s soul. Jono swallowed tightly. “Maybe that’s the point.” Patrick grimaced, gaze sliding away. “Maybe.”

“SOA Special Agent Patrick Collins, I have a warrant for your arrest,” the man said. Jono couldn’t smell a damn thing coming off Patrick, but he could hear the way his lover’s heartbeat spiked like a hummingbird’s. “What’s the charge?” Patrick asked. “The murder of Youssef Khan.” “Bollocks,” Jono snarled. “Patrick didn’t kill anyone.”

“He’ll be all right,” Hermes said from behind him. Jono didn’t turn around. “You don’t know that.” “No, but he can’t pay his soul debt if he’s locked up, and we gods aren’t happy with the interference of demons.” Jono shoved past Hermes to go retrieve his mobile so the feds didn’t take it. He wondered if he could keep Patrick’s. “We aren’t happy with the interference of gods.” “The two of you never would have met if it weren’t for us.”

“Can I throw rocks at them?” Wade asked, peering through the blinds at the mob of press waiting on the sidewalk below the flat. “No,” Jono said. “What about flowerpots?” “We don’t have any, but even if we did, no.” “What if I singe them? Just a little bit?” “And have that be a breaking news story? No, Wade. You are not allowed to singe the press.” Wade stepped away from the window, grumbling under his breath. “Fine.”

“I want Patrick to get here so we can eat,” Wade said as he flopped down onto the armchair. “I bet he’s hungry. Prison food always looks gross in movies.” “Have we found something you won’t eat?” Sage asked, not looking up from her laptop. Wade frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe? Not like a jail could hold me. I could’ve busted Patrick out, now that I think about it. One tail flick—” “There will be no destroying federal buildings,” Jono interrupted. “Stop taking after Patrick.” “Someone has to until he gets back.” “Which should be soon, so no need to plan a jailbreak when it’s not needed.”

The naked relief in Patrick’s tired face was all it took for Jono to meet him halfway, stopping in the middle of the stairs to drag him into a tight hug. Patrick dropped the bag on the step he stood on, tucking his face against Jono’s shoulder and letting out a deep, shuddering breath. Jono buried his nose into Patrick’s dark red hair, smelling harsh soap and a multitude of other scents that had embedded themselves into freckled skin where they didn’t belong.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Patrick mumbled into his skin, trying to get closer. Jono pressed a hard kiss to his skull before taking a deep breath. “Couldn’t sleep without you.”

“Made you dinner,” Jono said, brushing a kiss against Patrick’s cheek. Patrick pulled back enough that Jono could see his face and the shadows under his eyes. “Prison food is gross.” “I told you,” Wade said from their flat’s landing. “You should’ve let me break him out.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Jono murmured. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his torso, holding him tight. “I wish I could say you won’t.”

“How do we fight this?” Jono asked. “We take the hits and keep going.” The weariness in Patrick’s voice made Jono hold him tighter, unable to stop wondering if their time together was coming to an end none of them could see.

“Getting into another fight risks your bond being revoked and the police coming down hard on Jono. The mayor isn’t happy with the fighting happening between the packs. It doesn’t matter that you’re fighting to defend yourselves. The public doesn’t care about that. They only care that their commute is ruined and the streets aren’t safe. You want to earn good PR points? Don’t fight.” “That’s not possible,” Jono said. “Fighting is how we handle disputes.” “Then do it in your challenge ring.” “Like that’s going to happen,” Wade muttered loudly from his side of the table. “We don’t even have one.” Jono grimaced. “We’ll do what’s best for our pack.”

She touched Patrick’s face, and he didn’t pull away; Jono wished he would. “Honed yourself sharp over the years I was gone, did you?” Patrick swallowed hard enough Jono could hear the sound of it in his throat. “That’s what you taught me.” “Then remember not to break.”

“Be safe. Tap a ley line if you have to,” Jono said when he finally pulled back. Patrick licked his lips and nodded. “Not sure that’s a good idea if the government might be looking at my soul.” Jono curled warm fingers around Patrick’s chin, holding him still for another kiss. “Do it anyway.” “Now you sound like Wade.” “I heard that,” came Wade’s muffled shout from the dining table. “Finish my breakfast,” Patrick yelled back. Then Patrick tugged at Jono’s wrist, twisting it to press a kiss against his knuckles. “I’ll come back.” The worried line Jono’s mouth was pressed into didn’t soften. “I love you.”

“If I get murdered in broad daylight, Jono is going to kill me,” Patrick muttered under his breath as he strengthened his shields.

“Get out of the car,” Patrick ordered. He expanded his shields through the damaged frame of the vehicle, allowing Danai and the driver to exit on shaky legs. The driver tried to run for it and ended up slamming against Patrick’s shields with a groan. Patrick grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. “You run now, you’re just going to die.” “I don’t get paid for shit like this!” the man cried out. “And the government stopped paying me to do this shit, but we’ll ignore that.”

“Wade, we’re leaving.” Patrick looked over his shoulder and did a double take as Wade came running down the center aisle, a red, square, rigid cap sitting ludicrously on his head. He didn’t look guilty at all, and his pockets definitely bulged with stolen goods. “Put it back,” Patrick told him. Wade gave him a defiant look. “No! It’s red, and I like red.” “It’s not yours.” “Finders, keepers.” “You didn’t find it, you stole it.”

“No stealing. Come on, we’re going home.” Wade rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Whatever. I’m hungry. All they had back there were dry crackers.”

“I better not find out you’re hoarding crosses,” Patrick said. Wade smirked as he walked past them. “In these pockets? I don’t think so.” Considering the way Wade shifted mass, Patrick knew it was a distinct possibility he could be hiding extremely large religious iconography in his pockets. “Might be useful against demons,” Jono mused. “Only if he believes in that god,” Patrick said. Wade snorted, a hint of smoke drifting out of his nose, the acridness impossible to ignore. “Hell no. Gods are just trouble.” Jono tugged on Patrick’s arm. “At least we’re raising him right.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “He’s nineteen. He could raise himself.” “Doubtful. He’d be living off Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets if he tried.”

“I’ll tell Sage. You should probably tell Setsuna. The government knows you’re a target, but there’s a difference between wanting you and wanting to murder you.” “You want me.” “Yes, but there are some days you’re so bloody stubborn I think about murder. It’d be purely out of love though.”

“I need to let it in,” Patrick said. “That is a terrible plan,” Sage snapped. “Trust me.” She glared at him, holding the spell book so tight her fingernails cut into the old skin that made up the cover. “You’re why I’m getting gray hairs in my thirties.” “It makes you look distinguished.” “It makes me want to strangle you.”

“Demons?” he asked. “Demons,” Jono grunted. “Ugh. I’m bringing mouthwash.” “I wasn’t going to ask you to eat any.” “Yeah, but I usually have to, so this time I’m coming prepared.”