Secondhand Skin: A Soulbound Universe Novel, page 8
And there was the problem. Wade looked and smelled and laughed like a mundane human, but looks could be deceiving.
Everyone in the supernatural and preternatural communities knew the core of the New York City god pack as it was now was a legend in their own right. Jonothon de Vere had been the mouthpiece for Fenrir, the first god pack alpha in far too long to carry the favor of an animal-god patron. Patrick Collins had been god-touched in every way that mattered, whether he accepted that or not. One didn’t get the entirety of the gods of heaven—Seelie fae included—fighting alongside him without being chosen by them.
Sage Taylor was a dire who could go toe-to-toe with the fae and outbargain them at their own game half the time. All signs pointed to her being one of the Lord of Ivy and Gold’s legal protégés, which would make her a force to be reckoned with in a few years’ time.
Wade was something else. Something different. None of the rumors that had crawled out of Manhattan after the Battle of Samhain could agree on his role in the pack or during that near-world ending fight. Riordan’s clan and their kin had been water-bound for all of that fight. He’d never seen the fighting in the streets and so couldn’t say for certain that the wildest rumors about the New York City god pack’s fourth-ranked pack member were true.
What he did know for certain was they’d have that god pack knocking on their front door, looking for retribution, if Riordan let anything happen to Wade.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. I have zero interest in meeting his alphas,” Riordan said. He didn’t tell Donal that he had one hundred percent interest in Wade for other reasons that had exploded in his face the second he’d caught sight and scent of the other man.
His statement seemed to satisfy Donal though, who reached out to grip Riordan’s shoulders and give him a little shake. “Don’t lose your skin. Come back whole.”
“Always.”
They’d driven to the Boston god pack’s territory in Donal’s car, and he left with a squeal of tires too loud for the weekday morning. Riordan waited only mostly patiently for Wade to finish up his conversation with Ella. After another minute, Wade jogged to where Riordan stood on the sidewalk.
“Which car is yours?” Riordan asked.
In answer, Wade pointed a key fob at the pristine Audi parked on the street, causing the headlights and taillights to flash as the alarm beeped once. “I’m driving. Your first duty as tour guide is to find us breakfast.”
Riordan stared at him. “Are you serious?”
Wade’s stomach growled, but he didn’t seem embarrassed at all. “I’m not sightseeing on an empty stomach.”
“We’re not sightseeing at all.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Get in, seal-boy.”
“Seal-boy? I’m older than you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone in my pack is older than me except my niece. That doesn’t make you special.”
“And how old are you?”
Wade walked around the car and opened the door. “Twenty-three. Old enough to drink if that’s what you were worried about.”
Wade got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Riordan stood there on the sidewalk for a few seconds more, staring in disbelief at the car, before shaking his head and getting into the front passenger seat. The leather seat was contoured in a comfortable way, but he still had to move it back a little farther than Wade’s so he could stretch out his legs.
Wade fiddled with the GPS on the car’s dash touchscreen, frowning as he poked at the map there. “Ella said Niall is some wannabe hotshot CEO but that he didn’t look or smell like fae when he attacked. You said he was fae, so I’ll trust your insight there. What’s his background? Seelie? Unseelie? Please tell me he’s not related to the Sluagh in any way.”
The casual way that Wade spoke about the Unseelie fae’s undead hunters that made even other fae run and hide had Riordan side-eyeing Wade. “You seem to know a lot about the fae.”
“Nope,” Wade said far too cheerfully as he finally tapped at one of the addresses listed in his search and pulled into the street. “I just know what I’ve fought against.”
“Niall isn’t tied to the Sluagh. Most of us fae think he’s prayer-born, or maybe he got lucky and fell into the Cauldron.”
Wade’s fingers stilled on the touchscreen. “That sounds like a god. I hate dealing with gods.”
“You’re not too far off.”
Wade groaned. “Ugh. I’d ask Gerard for help with the bastard, but he’s on his honeymoon with Órlaith right now.”
Riordan suppressed a twitch at the casual way Wade spoke about one of his people’s most dangerous warriors. He knew Cú Chulainn had gone by several names over time, each one intertwined with the one of legend. That Wade named him like a friend was more proof he had people behind him who wouldn’t like it if he got hurt. “How do you know Cú Chulainn?”
“He was Patrick’s captain when they were both in the Mage Corps together. Good guy. Has a spear I want but he keeps too close of an eye on it for me to nick it.”
The British term was odd. Riordan never heard Americans use it all that much. “You seem close enough if he invited you to his wedding.”
“I went for the food, and I like Órlaith. She’s nice.”
Riordan couldn’t really remember if anyone had ever called Brigid’s granddaughter nice. The Summer Lady was ruthless in defense of her Court and queen, to say nothing of those people she considered friends. “Niall isn’t like them.”
“You said he’s practically a god. That’s what prayer-born means, right? Sort of like Santa Muerte. Some kind of folklore believed by enough people to earn a godhead. So, I mean, technically, he’s like them.”
At that, Riordan did twitch because mundane humans didn’t know much, if anything, about godheads. He himself didn’t have one, being a mere immortal like almost every other fae in Underhill. “We don’t know for sure. Niall does what’s best for Niall and has ever since he held court in Ireland as a mortal.”
Wade sighed, sounding aggrieved in the way Saoirse got when he or Donal asked her to do something she didn’t feel like doing. “I hate gods. I’m not cut out to deal with them. That’s Patrick’s specialty.”
“Then why didn’t he come?”
“Because the government is paying a huge expert witness fee to him for a trial in DC, and we’re all about making the government pay through the nose in my pack.”
The GPS finally spouted out a direction, and Riordan looked at the dashboard screen as Wade dutifully turned left onto American Legion Highway. “You’re going to Mike’s Pastry?”
“You can’t pretend to be a tourist if you don’t do touristy things.”
Donal was going to kill him if he ever found out Riordan had stepped foot in that tourist trap. “Look, if you want cannoli, I’ll take you to Modern Pastry.”
“No, no, we’re going to Mike’s Pastry.”
Riordan frowned at Wade, studying the younger man’s profile. He didn’t have any freckles, but Riordan was struck by the length of Wade’s eyelashes and how he didn’t have even a hint of stubble. As attractive as he was, it wasn’t enough to stop Riordan’s annoyance from rising. “How is acting like a tourist going to stop Niall when we’re on a countdown?”
“Ella’s research said his business is downtown but that he lives in Beacon Hill. We’ll get some food, then do some scouting.”
“The North End isn’t within walking distance of Niall’s office downtown or Beacon Hill.”
“I bet you swim for miles in Boston Harbor. Don’t tell me you can’t do some long-distance walking?”
“I have a car with air-conditioning for a reason.”
Wade shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel for a few seconds. “Heat doesn’t bother me. Letting some asshole enslave the supernatural and preternatural communities up here in one of the bigger cities in the Northeast does. Trust me, seal-boy. I have a plan.”
The plan in question turned out to be to get cannoli first, and no amount of protesting could get Wade to change his mind.
“Look,” Wade said with a loud sigh after they’d parked the car in a lot. “Niall has his business in a pocket of fae territory that everyone ceded to him before I was even born. We’re going to trespass, but I’m not trespassing without a snack.”
“Don’t god packs all make a big deal about not trespassing? As in, don’t do it?” Riordan asked dubiously.
Wade smirked, reaching out to pat Riordan on the shoulder too quick for him to pull away, but Wade didn’t try to grab his leather jacket. “Only when we don’t want to piss people off. Now, come on. I want cannoli.”
Riordan watched Wade walk off, gaze lingering on his trim waist and nice, denim-clad ass. “You know, I asked for help, not trouble.”
“Lucky for you, I’m both.”
Riordan huffed out a quiet laugh despite the situation. Wade seemed sure of himself, despite his age. But if he’d survived the Battle of Samhain, then Riordan supposed he knew how to handle himself in a fight—something they were bound to find if they went hunting after Niall.
He flexed his hands, absently wishing he had claws like Casey for when they came across other fae during their exploration today. Selkies in their seal form came with sharp teeth that could rend flesh from bone and blunt claws that couldn’t do damage the way werecreatures were capable of. What magic Riordan had was tied to his sealskin—water magic when in the sea, glamour to hide his fae ancestry when walking amongst mundane humans, shapeshifting, and loyalty. Not much good on dry land, and loyalty was a double-edged sword if it wasn’t given willingly.
Riordan easily caught up with Wade, the smell of sugar and yeast thick to the point of cloying in the air the closer they got to the cannoli shop, something mundane humans wouldn’t really notice. The line outside of Mike’s Pastry was already long, and he dreaded waiting in it. Being surrounded by tourists was never his idea of fun.
Wade didn’t care, lining up with phone in hand. Riordan glanced at the screen since Wade clearly wasn’t hiding it, raising an eyebrow at the number of unanswered texts he was scrolling through. “Something happen back in New York?”
“Nope. I hung up on Patrick back at Ella’s,” Wade said.
“And everyone’s calling you for that?”
“They’re a little overprotective sometimes.”
Riordan made a mental note to make sure Wade didn’t get a mark on him while in Boston. Donal’s warning was sound; he did not want to deal with the New York City god pack any more than necessary. Wade was enough.
Wade was fine, in more ways than one.
His skin prickled, being so close to the younger man, an itch Riordan forced himself to ignore. He knew what it meant, but he didn’t have the time or the right to pursue it, not when Saoirse was still at risk. Besides, he’d promised himself long ago he’d never give his sealskin to a mundane human, fixation or no fixation.
It didn’t matter if it meant he’d be giving up the one person who could be his mate.
Wade ignored him for the most part as the line inched its way to the inside counter with all its many cannoli on display. Only when Wade was called to the counter did he finally look up from his phone. He ignored the marzipan cookies and other pastries, clearly on a mission, and Riordan could only follow him.
“One of each flavor of cannoli,” Wade said, pocketing his phone so he could pull out his wallet instead. The woman working the counter grabbed multiple blue-and-white boxes and set about filling them.
“Are you bringing some back to Ella’s?” Riordan asked.
“These are all for me.”
“All twenty of them?”
“If you want any, get your own. I don’t share my snacks except with my niece.”
Riordan shook his head in disbelief, not in the mood for something so sweet. He stood back while Wade got his order and paid for it. He saw the dilemma when Wade turned around carrying three boxes of cannoli and no free hands to eat them with. “Give me the boxes.”
Wade narrowed his eyes at him. “I said buy your own.”
Riordan sighed in exasperation. “I’m going to hold them so you can eat while we head back to the car.”
Wade thought about it for the amount of time it took them to leave the shop before handing the boxes over, already digging a cannoli out of the top one. “Thanks.”
“Didn’t you eat breakfast?”
“It was a while ago,” Wade said, eyeing the pistachio cannoli in his hand. “And these have been on my to-eat list for a few years now.”
“I’m pretty sure you can get the same things in Little Italy back in Manhattan.”
“Yeah, but those aren’t in Boston.” Wade bit into it and took a selfie at the same time, nimbly dodging a couple on the sidewalk heading in the opposite direction. “I need to post this.”
Riordan shoved down his worry and annoyance. “You need to help us figure out what we’re going to do about Niall.”
“Yeah, about that. Do you think your clan and Ella’s god pack are the only groups Niall is targeting? Have you heard of anyone else having problems?”
“The first I’d heard about Ella’s alphas going missing was today. If anyone else’s leaders have been taken, I doubt they’d advertise it. My clan certainly didn’t.”
Wade reached for another cannoli. “Who are the big players in Boston? If I wanted to take over a city, who would I need to take out first?”
The thoughtful question was at odds with the way Wade was currently stuffing his face. A bit of the creamy filling was smeared at the corner of his mouth, and Riordan had to drag his mind out of the gutter. “My clan isn’t the fae he would’ve gone after if that were the case. He’d have gone after Lady Caith.”
“Hm.” Wade crunched his way through another cannoli, somehow finishing the top box without Riordan realizing it. He was a little amazed by that. “Is she water-bound like you selkies?”
“No, she’s—” Riordan cut himself off, swearing under his breath. “I see what you mean.”
“Yeah, it’s always about territory with these assholes, and Boston is a seaside town. Niall would have to ensure he owned all his borders, even the wet ones. Are you on good terms with this Lady Caith? Do you think she’d be willing to talk to you about anything going on in her territory?”
Riordan shook his head. “Selkies don’t have the clout the daoine sídhe have. We’re seen as lesser to those fae who can’t shed their skin like we do.”
“Why?” Wade asked as they crossed the street. He grabbed the empty top box and chucked it in the bin once they reached the other side. “You’re all fae.”
“We are, but some of us aren’t treated as fairly as others.”
Wade paused only long enough to somehow cut the string keeping the second box closed and pulling out another cannoli. “Okay, so she’s, what? Noble and you’re not?”
“My kind are kin,” Riordan said, words coming out flat as they walked. “Selkies are insular by nature simply because of our ability to shed our skin and how it affects us.”
“The whole being held captive mess, yeah, I can see why you’d want to stick to your own people. So you’re saying you and this Lady Caith don’t cross paths often. Would she have crossed paths with Niall?”
“If he was smart, no. Lady Caith was cast out of the Seelie Court for reasons I’m not sure of. From what I’ve been told, Queen Medb tried to entice her to the Unseelie Court, but she declined and stayed in Éire before coming here.”
“You’ve only heard it all secondhand?”
“She’s older than I am. She was known as the Lady of Wind and Sky past the veil.”
“Older and dangerous. Got it.” Wade crunched his way through another cannoli, looking at his phone as they walked. “Sage said if we bargain with any fae, she’s going to throttle me.”
“Maybe you should listen to your dire.”
“Eh, I’m pretty sure fae bargains don’t work on me.”
He said it casually, like the idea of being bound by fae for an eternity wasn’t something to worry about. Riordan’s eyebrow twitched. It felt like trying to teach some of the younger kin that just because they were fae didn’t mean they weren’t excluded from the cruelty of their kind. “How sure are you about that?”
“I’ve never tested it before. Oh, hey, is that a Nutella one?”
Wade swiped the second-to-last cannoli from the second box. Riordan stared down at the mostly empty box in disbelief. “Seriously, what are you? You’re putting away more food than most mundane humans outside competitive eating can.”
“Do you know I’m forbidden from entering the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest? Jono preemptively banned me for life.”
“Probably wise. You’d be the winner every year, and that would be boring.”
Wade cackled, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling. He shoved the last bite of cannoli into his mouth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A bit of cream smeared across his cheek, and Riordan had to resist the urge to wipe it off with his fingers.
Maybe his tongue.
He cleared his throat. “You’ve got some cream on your face still.”
Wade wiped it off with his hand again as he laughed. “I can’t even blame my niece. Let me grab the last cannoli, and we can toss this box in the next trash can we pass before we get back to my car.”
“Are you going to start on the third box? Because if you are, I feel like you won’t have any left to play tourist with in Beacon Hill.”
“Not if we walk faster.”
Wade set off, leaving Riordan to follow, still carrying one box of cannoli. He only hoped no other kin saw him toting around a Mike’s Pastry box, or he’d never hear the end of it from his siblings. When they reached the car, Riordan kept the box on his lap while Wade drove with a distracted air while he munched on cannoli.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Riordan asked.
“The map on my phone does.”
