commands winter

My senses were suddenly filled with a harsh, swampy scent that wasn’t being reported by my own nose. It took me a second to work out what the hell was happening, but it came to me as easily and instinctively as breathing.
A screen of half a dozen malks, savage feline creatures of Winter that bore as much resemblance to cats as serial killers did to kindergartners, had spread out in a skirmish line in front of my banner, and they’d found the enemy waiting for us. I could feel their eagerness and bloodlust rising, got just a hint of expended propellant and gun oil on a wind that never touched my physical nose. More turtlenecks, then. The other creatures of Winter sensed the enemy’s presence, too, and a rising violent instinct spread among them—two shaggy, lurking ogres, seven or eight Black Dogs, a dozen psychotic gnomes with hooked knives, and a phobophage, a fear-eater, who had taken the form of a goddamned rake and whose shadowy profile, as it slipped past an open doorway, looked like a cross between a long-limbed Jack Skellington and Wolverine.
And tonight, in this battle, every single one of them was mine to command. I knew it the way I knew which way was down.
The enemy had taken an office building half a block down that would give them a good field of fire at an intersection and had evidently driven CPD away from the area. A number of silent uniformed figures on the ground testified to their deadliness.
But honestly.
Mab’s “people” are the things the scary stories get written about.
“Stop,” I said quietly.
Murphy brought the bike to a halt.
“This will just take a minute.”
And as naturally as moving my own muscles, I sent the monsters for the Fomor.
The malks went in first, through the openings blasted into the building, silent as ghosts. The pony-sized Black Dogs followed, running right through the freaking walls, which I did not know they could do. The rake slithered up a power wire like a snake, and the ogres and gnomes leapt onto the roof. I saw only vague shapes moving in the scarlet haze. Mostly, I just knew where they were.
The building erupted in screams and gunfire. There were even a couple of crunching explosions.
And then there were only screams.
The creatures of Winter enjoy their killing. They think it’s worth taking the time to do it right. And given the pain and suffering Listen and his turtlenecks had inflicted, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch.
“All right,” I said. “Proceed.”
“Jesus Christ,” Murphy said, and she crossed herself, something I’d rarely seen her do.
But she took a deep breath and kept going. We passed the office building. It was largely glass. The creatures of Winter, at my will, had turned it into an abattoir, and it dripped with their enthusiasm.
“Did you do that, Harry?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” I said.
She looked at a dead cop as we went slowly by. Then her face hardened. She spoke very quietly. “Good.”

Battle Ground Chapter 17, Page 164-166