Page 2 of Born to Be Legends (Soulbound Universe)
He left Jono to get ready for the day and took the small elevator down to the garage, where his Mustang was parked.
Getting to downtown Manhattan from Tribeca was a lot easier than if they’d taken up residence in the traditional territory god packs before them had held in the Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Hamilton Heights.
The dozens of homes Uptown were where the rest of the god pack resided, overseen by Linh Nguyen, who’d settled into a role of leadership behind Wade’s position in the pack with ease over the last few years.
Patrick had first met her after his return from beyond the veil six months after the Battle of Samhain ended, but he’d grown to like her steady loyalty and sly humor.
It made it easier for Patrick to continue taking retainers as an expert witness for the SOA.
Most of the cases he worked on were venued in the Southern District of New York or out of Washington, DC.
Sometimes he ended up sitting in courtrooms in other states, but SOA Director Priya Kohli tried not to attach him to cases outside New York too often.
She was aware that Patrick could say no, and he had in the past, but he was still one of the best experts in the field despite his age. His experience spoke for itself.
The SOA field office in Downtown Manhattan hadn’t sustained too much damage during the Battle of Samhain, but it’d still needed repairs.
It’d taken nearly a year, and during that time, the skyline of Manhattan had been full of construction cranes, detours everywhere, but New Yorkers had weathered the cleanup with pride.
Patrick greeted the security guards at the lobby’s reception desk with an easy “Good morning” as he checked in. He got his visitor’s badge and draped the metal chain around his neck before being beeped through the security turnstile that now blocked the way to the elevator bank.
Midmorning and the lobby wasn’t bustling, most of the agents already clocked in for a Thursday workday upstairs, if they weren’t already in the field.
Patrick didn’t need an escort—he knew the building well enough, and Henry saw no need to greet him until he reached the upper floors—but his access was restricted since he was no longer employed by the SOA.
The security guard had called the elevator for him, and Patrick took the one he’d been directed to, the doors sliding open with a soft ping.
Patrick shifted the strap of his messenger bag holding the case files with his notes, watching the electronic floor numbers flicker across the small screen as the elevator ascended.
It finally slowed on the twenty-fifth floor, opening onto a maze of cubicles and hallways leading away to offices on the outskirts.
A receptionist desk was positioned prominently outside the elevator bank, and the woman seated there flashed him a quick smile.
“Welcome back, Patrick,” Tori said. She was about a decade older than him and preferred a vintage sort of look with her clothes and cat-eye glasses.
Tori handled communication and records research for the floor she was on, and she was usually the first person he saw when arriving in the SOA proper for these kinds of meetings.
“Hi, Tori. How late am I?” Patrick asked.
“About ten minutes” was her cheerful reply.
Patrick sighed. “Cross-town traffic was terrible.”
“That’s what you always say. But if I was married to a man like the one you have at home, I’d hate to leave him, too.”
“We’re not married.”
“Still a good excuse.” She locked her computer and pushed her chair back, getting to her feet. “Come on. I’ll take you to the conference room. Everyone else is already there, including the rebuttal expert.”
Patrick frowned. That was the first he’d heard of another witness being brought on board. Usually, his testimony was more than enough. “Rebuttal expert? No one told me they needed that.”
Tori shrugged, clearly not bothered with something outside her pay grade. “You can take it up with the attorneys. He arrived a little before you.”
Dealing with the SOA attorneys and the ones from the United States attorneys’ general office always made him so glad he’d never gone into law. That’s what Sage was for.
Tori led him down a long hall to a conference room tucked away in a corner of the building.
He couldn’t see into it, the room built for privacy, and the silence ward set prominently on the door was activated.
Tori didn’t bother knocking, merely turned the knob and pushed the door open, waving Patrick inside.
His ears popped as he passed through the silence ward, coming into the conference room filled with summer sunlight shining through the windows.
Patrick recognized six of the people seated at the table—four attorneys and two paralegals—but the seventh was unknown to him.
Recognition sparked through his magic, letting him know the outlier was a sorcerer who hadn’t bothered to shield themselves.
The feel of their magic was dark in a way he hadn’t sensed in years, immediately putting him on edge.
“Sorry I’m late,” Patrick said slowly, letting the door close behind him, glancing around the table.
No one responded to his greeting, everyone sitting rigidly in their seats.
Everyone except the rebuttal expert.
It might have been years since the last time Patrick was in a combat situation, but some instincts would never die.
He no longer carried a sidearm, but the magic in his soul and his ability to tap a ley line as a mage meant he was never without a weapon.
The sorcerer who was the supposed rebuttal expert and looked to be in his late twenties seemed to recognize that fact.
“I wouldn’t cast any magic if I were you.
Not if you want everyone in this room to keep breathing,” the sorcerer said, clutching at a small, carved piece of bone.
The artifact pulsed with pale red magic that spread across the skin of everyone seated at the table, mapping out veins, arteries, and capillaries.
Patrick knew blood magic when he saw it, and while he was perfectly willing to attack, it wasn’t worth risking everyone else just then.
Their lives were literally held in the hands of the sorcerer, and Patrick didn’t know what would happen if he initiated an attack.
Nothing good, he was certain. “Who are you?”
“Someone who has quite a few demands. The first of which is my wife.”
The case set for trial next week had ensnared the heads of a rather large coven of magic users spanning several northeastern states under a RICO charge.
Patrick didn’t know who the guy was talking about, other than the wife in question was probably locked up somewhere.
If the guy thought Patrick had the power to get her out of prison, he was sorely mistaken.
Inwardly, Patrick sighed and reached for the soulbond that tied him and Jono together, giving it a firm tug. The tight pull would be enough of a warning while Patrick played hostage negotiator to keep the attorneys alive, the case on track, and deal with a renegade magic user.
He needed to remember to charge the SOA extra for a hazard fee after this.