Well, he could have resisted, but he wasn't; he wanted in as bad as anyone else. He kept his voice low and calm, because the last thing he wanted to do was start a panic among the people taking shelter here. For that matter, he was a lycanthrope, some of these folks tended to view the breed with suspicion. Moon-mad and the ability to turn into psychotic raging man-beasts. It was actually understandable.

"Some Werewolves I know passed on the word as a last favor. Not saying who. Said Augustus and his entire raid force got rolled over bad as soon as they reached the museum and one of them lived long enough to talk. Or maybe he was dead when he got made to talk, who the fuck knows? We both know where they were hiding and it's a good bet Nemsemet got that out of the guy who snitched. That means that shit's gonna land here hard." He never lost the entire 'ebonic' accent, the African-Americanisms that identified his background, but he was also a guy that held a Master's from Tulane.

"I know you've got heavy defenses here, but Nemsemet's a nightmare, man. You might be able to hold this place for a little bit, but that needs to happen while the little ones are getting taken to safety." Tony wasn't willing to fight for Augustus Nicholson, but he'd spent decades trying to help turn around some of Camden's meanest ghettos. Parael was a known entity in the community insofar as that it was damn unlikely he'd just pick up sticks and leave the kids hanging and Tony already had problems looking himself in the eyes in the mirror many mornings. He wasn't about to do it either.