Chapter Six
Dante
Iclench my jaw so tightly my teeth ache. We don’t have time for this. Of course, I’m not about to say it. Sam looks… scared. I think I’m the only one who can see it.
I dart my gaze up to the man who’s stopped on the stairs and revise that thought. He can see it, too. He wasn’t wearing a smile a second ago, but his expression was brighter. Now, his shoulders slump, and he drops down a step before he pauses again.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Sam says flatly. “Just like the rest of them.”
The rest of the mages. Almost all of them are dead now, and honestly, I hardly remember the wars happening at all.
Our school was full of witches and the odd wolf; it was hardly a place for the mages to target.
They shielded us from the worst of it, and outside of school, I wasn’t really part of a big magical community.
“No, I—” Cassian flushes. To my right, Isidore makes towards him, but Soren reaches out and tugs Isidore back. “Sorry. I should’ve—I should’ve reached out to you.”
Sam’s expressions shift so quickly that I almost can’t catalogue them, but me and Ophelia and Kieran—his mates can read him best of all, but outside of them, we know him, too. He’s angry. The fear is passing, replaced by anger, as tends to be the case with him.
The hurt… That’s new.
Paxton looks around as though he can see the shield Sam has thrown up around us. “They’re not going to hurt us.”
“He’s got every reason to,” Sam spits out, not taking his eyes off Cassian at all. “We need to—”
“We need to find her,” I say before he can finish. I get that he’s scared. I do. But it’s already been most of a day, and Ophelia is alone over there, and I’ll never forgive myself if she gets hurt because we took too long.
“He will not hurt any of you,” Lark says from behind us, his voice carefully even. I don’t look back at him. I can’t. “The only one in any danger here is me.”
Sam does take his eyes off Cassian then, if only to study Lark’s face. Like the rest of us, he’s not quite got used to the fact that the fae can’t tell a lie. Surely, that flat, practised tone is hiding something. But I don’t see why he would want to lie about this even if he could.
“More on your head then,” Sam mutters, and his shield falls. His magic doesn’t push on me so heavily now, and I take a deep breath.
Grant is the only one who seems utterly unconcerned. He watches Cassian approach, just like the rest of us, but he’s wearing a small smile.
“It’s good to meet you in person,” Cassian says. He sticks out his hand, and Grant shakes it, staring at him a little like he’s meeting a celebrity. For once, he’s silent.
Paxton shakes Cassian’s hand, too, but Sam shifts so he’s in front of me when Cassian’s attention drifts to us.
I get it. Even with Lark here… I’m the weakest of the five of us.
I don’t like to fight. I’ve seen death, sure, but I’m not sure I could kill, myself, even for the people I love most in the world.
“Sam,” Cassian breathes. “I really should have—”
“Later,” Sam snaps, cutting him off. Isidore starts forward again, this time with a little growl, but Soren pulls him firmly back again, then leans to whisper something in his ear. “We need to cross.”
“You can’t all cross,” Cassian says. He stares contemplatively at Lark for a moment. “I wouldn’t recommend it for you at all. Vlad explained everything on the phone in the end. We argued about it.”
That has Grant perking up. “Argued? Why?”
“He does not know enough about the crossing,” Soren says. “Or the Otherworld. His choices are flawed.”
“Flawed how?” Sam asks, suspicion colouring his tone.
“For one, they’re not going to take kindly to a mage crossing over while they’re in the middle of all this,” Isidore spits. Sam stares blandly back at him.
“Why not?”
Cassian grimaces. He looks at Soren and Isidore, who seem to be encouraging him to say something, but Lark speaks before Cassian can.
“Because the last mage who went there murdered our crown prince,” he says.
It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together in terms of who the mage might have been.
“You what?” Sam shouts.
“It was a… complicated situation,” Cassian says. He rubs the back of his neck.
“Wait a minute. That’s why the Huntsman lets you talk to him like that?” Grant asks.
“Partly,” Cassian replies with a shrug.
“But Sam has to go,” I say. “Or someone—Lark has to—”
I look at him helplessly. No doubt the three of them know that he basically has no magic, but I don’t want to say it. I also want them to get going. Get her back.
“I need protection until I recover my powers,” Lark says, nodding in acknowledgement of what I haven’t said. “It should only take half a day or so.”
“Regardless,” Cassian says to Sam, “you can’t go. They’ll be on the lookout. They’ll kill you.”
“I’ll be there,” Paxton says. He looks between me and Grant. “And I suppose—”
Cassian shakes his head. “You’re out, too. I told Vlad on the phone. Same deal. You’re basically a mage without the luxury of time ingraining that blessing into your makeup. They’ll be on you even faster.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” I say, aware that my voice is just this side of hysterical.
We know plenty of other fae, but they’d still have to get all the way up here from London.
The vampires can’t go. Maybe Asher or Quinn, but then if the fae don’t like mages, they’re certainly not going to be pleased to find two wolves running—
“You two can go with him,” Cassian says, pointing at me and Grant.
Everyone starts talking at once. Grant seems unsure—he doesn’t want to break his promise to Vlad, and he doesn’t understand how his magic is different from Paxton’s.
Paxton is outraged and scared for both of us.
I can tell. Sam and Isidore get into it; Sam knows he can take on any fae, and half a day is nothing.
Lark’s arm brushes mine when he moves closer. I hate the way his presence immediately calms my racing thoughts.
“I have heard Grant is quite the fighter when the need arises,” he murmurs. “I know you are good with your wards. Your shields.”
Which… fine. I’m never going to be as good as a mage, but I’ve got some talent there. Only, I don’t have anything with me to help protect him. Them. Because it’ll be on my head as much as Lark’s if anything happens to Grant. I know that.
“I truly believe it will only take half a day,” Lark goes on. “I will send you two back through and then retrieve Ophelia myself. I will not allow any harm to come to her.”
I glance up at him. Fury is banked in his eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s just for the audacity these fae have shown, coming here and taking someone they believed meant something to him, or if it’s on Ophelia’s and my behalf as well.
Does it matter? I guess not.
“We’ll go,” I say, and only turn to look at the others when they all fall silent.
Lark’s right. Right in that I can do this.
Even if I don’t have equipment on me, I know enough about witchcraft to improvise in a pinch.
Grant knows more about fae than I do—honestly, I think he’s got a broader knowledge than most members of the Hunt. “We’re going.”
Sam’s expression twists. He doesn’t want me to go, but Ophelia’s his friend, too, and he wants her back. He wants to get her back. He hates feeling useless. “Fine, but come back as soon as you can.”
I shake my head. “We’re going, and we’re bringing her back with us.” I glance up at Lark when he opens his mouth. “That’s not negotiable. Right?”
Grant grins and he’s already nodding. “Right. I mean, I’m definitely gonna come. I just need to call Vlad and let him complain about it for, like, fifteen minutes first?”
“Ten,” Cassian says. He’s looking at me, too, like he’s weighing something up about me. I don’t like it. “It’s going to take us that long to open the crossing anyway.”
While Grant retreats to call Vlad, and Sam storms off to call Kieran and rant, I take myself aside and call my mums. Kieran will have rung Ophelia’s parents already, and I know he’ll update them as often as he can. They might even come to London to wait it out. They don’t live that far away.
I take a breath and hit call. The phone rings once, then Mamma’s voice comes through, loud and clear. “Dantino! How are you, love? We’re flying back next week, you know, and we’re planning to stop off…”
I let her chatter, leaning back against one of the walls. Lark is watching me from across the room, and I’ve no doubt he can hear Mamma, though at least she’s speaking Italian, so maybe he doesn’t know what she’s saying.
“Mamma, please,” I say, also in Italian, as I jerk my gaze from his. “Is Mum there, too?”
“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.”
“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.