Page 17 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“I will.”

“Good.” I hear a sudden flurry of movement. “I was supposed to help Dor deal with a poltergeist tonight—well, a small infestation, believe it or not—but I’m sure one of the others can handle it. We all know ghosts are hardly my forte, touchy as they can be.”

“Felix, you—”

“I’ll be there in three hours.” Something closes. A drawer maybe. “No, four. Gods know the trains are expensive, so I’ll have to get the bus, but I can’t imagine that anyone else will be there faster. I still have your alpha’s information. I’ll ring on the way.”

“You don’t have to come,” I say quietly, even though I already feel better knowing that he’ll be there when we get back. “I just—I was ringing to let you know.”

“Well, now I know,” Felix says in an arch tone. “Besides, your mums adore me. And Ophelia’s parents hate me. So I should be able to keep everyone nice and distracted while you do the actual work, as usual.”

I laugh despite myself. It comes out faint and watery, but for once, Felix doesn’t comment on that.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“Get her back. Whatever it takes.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever it takes.”

He hangs up without another word, which isn’t unusual at all, and I turn my phone off before I shove it into my pocket. Not like it’ll work over there, but I don’t much like the thought of leaving it behind either.

Grant bounds back into the room and nods at Paxton. “It’s okay. I’m going.”

Paxton’s face falls, just for a second. He’s scared. Of course he is. We all are.

Ophelia is too. She must be, even though I’m sure she’ll be raging at whoever took her while she quietly plots her own way out.

Cassian appears in the doorway just as Sam comes back into the room from the other direction. “We’re ready,” he says.

My stomach drops, but I try not to let the trepidation show on my face. I can do this. I can get her back.

Whatever it takes.

Chapter Seven

Lark

We leave Sam and Paxton behind and follow Cassian through to the crossing point. I can feel it, even here, a drumbeat of magic that tugs at me, trying to drag me back home.

Home. I wrinkle my nose and fall into step behind Grant. I am beginning to think I have no home at all.

But that is hardly important now. I must find Ophelia and return her, Dante, and Grant in good condition. Am I condemning myself by undertaking this task? Perhaps. Iagan would even say it is likely.

I did not try to contact him while Grant spoke with Vlad and Dante called—whoever he called. His mothers, I think, because I have heard him and Ophelia speak of them before. But the second person, I do not know, and yet he sounded as though he and Dante were… close.

Still. Iagan. He will likely sense when I cross the veil. He will certainly hear as soon as I return to court, and I know I must return to court to find Ophelia. I doubt he will come. I do not want him to.

“Over here,” Cassian says. Isidore and Soren are in this room, and another man—a vampire—has joined them. He looks half-asleep, but his magic, while not as powerful as Grant’s, is formidable.

“You didn’t say anything about sending a vampire through,” he says around a wide yawn. Grant stares at him, and Cassian scowls.

“I did. Twice. Not my fault you weren’t listening.”

The vampire smirks, eyes suddenly alert. “If we all think back, you’ll find that it absolutely is your fault, since you decided to keep me up all day with your tongue in—”

“Enough,” Cassian snaps. A hint of colour steals into his pale face. “Keep the fucking crossing open.”

His tone is harsh, but the vampire seems unperturbed. He exchanges a conspiratorial smile with Isidore. “Aye-aye.”