Page 16 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“Of course.” She pauses; she might like to tell me everything at once, all in a rush, but she can hear in my tone that something’s wrong. “I’ll put you on speaker.”

She doesn’t switch to English. Mum speaks Italian probably better than I do, despite being English herself, and she slips into the conversation easily. “Everything okay?”

“No,” I say. I huff out a breath, steeling myself. “I’m going away for a little while.”

Mum is silent, but Mamma’s, “Where?” is sharp.

My magic doesn’t come from her family. She carried me, sure enough, but my uncle’s kindly donated sperm—Mum’s brother, of course—is what probably gave me the magic I have. It’s why I went to school here, because Mum and her siblings might not have magic themselves, or at least not much of it, but they’ve always been in the know enough to understand what might give me the best advantage.

So, early years and schooling in Italy, and then when I was ten, straight here, to what was then a strange, foreign place despite all the visits, but at least a place where I met Ophelia and—

Felix. Fuck. I need to call Felix.

“It’s not—it’s not important,” I say, and I can almost hear the way they both incredulously raise their eyebrows. “Look. Something’s happened to Ophelia, okay? She’ll be okay, but I have to go get her. Can you—I know her parents have their pack, but can you give them a ring? Something? I can’t be here for them right now.”

Mamma is already agreeing; if I hadn’t called her phone, she’d be ringing them already. “Mum?” I venture. “Please.”

“Dante…” She lets out a gusty breath. “Is Sam going with you? Kieran?”

“No, I—” My mouth goes dry and I studiously stare down at the floor so that I don’t look at Lark. “I’ll be safe. I promise. I’m not going alone.”

I can imagine the way she’s standing, arms crossed and jaw set, if only because I pull the same expression on occasion, when I really don’t like what someone’s about to do.

Well, honestly, when I don’t like what Sam or Ophelia or Felix are going to do. No one else I know causes much trouble; or at least it’s not my problem if they do.

“You call us the minute you get back,” she says finally. “We’ll fly back tonight—no, Giulia, we can—We’ll go straight to the pack.”

“Ophelia’s?”

“Yours,” Mum says, like that should have been obvious to begin with. I grimace. I’ve told her all about Kieran and the others, and they know about my mums, but it’s not like we’ve really had enough settled time to do proper introductions. “I’m sure Ophelia’s parents will travel to London.”

That’s settled then. Not like I can do much about it. “Okay.”

“Make sure to call Felix, love,” Mamma adds. Sometimes I still think they can both read my mind. “And be careful. Please.”

“I will. Love you both.”

They both say it back, and it sounds begrudging when Mum says it, but I know she means it all the same. She’s already thinking of logistics—getting them to the airport, on a flight, back to London.

I don’t give myself a second’s respite when the call ends. I ring Felix instead, and this time the seconds seem to drag on as I wait for him to answer.

When he does, it’s with his usual upbeat tone, if tempered by a little bit of impatience. “Dante! Always a pleasure, of course, but right now might not be the best—”

“They took Ophelia,” I gasp out because somehow, having Felix on the phone makes this all the more real. Across the room, Lark’s shoulders tense, but he stays where he is. Good. I can’t have him near me right now.

Felix falls silent. Just for a heartbeat. “Who?” A threat thrums beneath his words.

“F-fae.” I shake my head. “I’m going to get her back. I’m going. I just… I needed to tell you.”

“You’re going to the Otherworld?”

“You know about that?”

He scoffs, which might piss me off if I didn’t know him so well. For a measure of knowing Felix well, anyway. “Of course. I deal in realms, darling. That’s what necromancers do.”

I suppose he’s right. “Okay. Well. Kieran’s ringing Ophelia’s parents, and my mums are flying here. London, I mean. I just—”

“You’ll get her back,” Felix says softly. Then louder. “You’ll get her back.”