Page 33 of Wings of Mercy

Murderous bunnies? So weird.

“Do you know any mages who could open a portal?” I asked Kit.

Frowning at a screen, she shook her head. She clicked away from whatever caused her frown before I could see it. “The two I would’ve recommended were involved with William’s mess.”

My upper lip curled with disgust. Even after his death, the fae necromancer had caused way too many problems. Still, it was probably because of his mistakes that we uncovered the entire plan before it was too late.

We needed mages we could trust, which meant not one of William’s. They also had to keep a portal open long enough to get an army through, which was no easy feat.

“What about witches or warlocks?” I asked after trying without success to follow along on the screens. The girl moved way too fast for me to keep up. Her brain was like a machine.

Someday she’d figure out how to connect that brain to a computer, and we’d all be doomed.

“Octavia could, but I doubt she would, even if we trusted her.”

“You’re just as powerful as she is,” I said.

Behind me, Ivan let out a whoop of excitement, and musical fanfare drifted from the TV.

“True, but I could only open one at a time, and each would seriously drain my ability to harness magic,” she said. “For all their annoying, holier-than-thou, egotistical tendencies, mages are the best suited for opening portals. Their usefulness ends there.”

The rift between mages and witches was well known. Witches looked down on mages, who were usually humans who studied and (hopefully) mastered sorcery. It took decades, sometimes longer, to become as strong as William or simply by winning the genetic lottery and born fae.

Mages hated that witches and warlocks were born with magic, tapping into it as easily as breathing. But their superiority complex came from the fact that mages earned their magic rather than having it handed to them on silver platters at birth.

Regardless of what they thought about each other—and don’t get either started on human witches—they both had their place in our world. Angela was obviously a special case for Kit.

“Any luck with the last dagger?” I asked.

“Not yet.” She glanced over at me. “You bored?”

Pots and pans clanked loudly in the kitchen as Angela put the clean dishes away.

“Apparently,” I sighed.

“Here’s an idea: go apologize to that poor demon whose house you broke into and trashed. Maybe it’ll be up for joining the fight.”

Did Kit seriously just suggest I apologize to a demon?

They weren’t even considered Community members, which meant I was well within my rights to kill them outright. Or break into their homes, whatever.

I squinted at her. “Are you high right now?”

“I wish.” Kit returned her attention to her screens. “Anyway, I can punch a permanent hole through the Otherworld’s veil if necessary.”

Whoa. “You can do that?”

“It’s easier and less draining than holding a portal open,” she explained. “But it comes with some serious cons, obviously.”

That was an understatement. A permanent portal would allow the monstrous unseelie fae to come over at will. Even if we took precautions and created the opening somewhere in or near the Summer Palace, the catastrophic idea of unseelie crawling around Miami gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“Let’s do it,” Lena said at my side, making me jump. I hadn’t even heard her approach. “I’d love to kick some fass.”

My eyebrows drew together. “Fass?”

“Fae ass. Fass.” She shrugged. “Just go with it.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Angela called from the kitchen.

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