uses fae as weapin

“Good point,” I said with a grimace. I frowned and checked. My contingent of wicked fae, who were lurking around out of sight of the mortals, had approximately tripled in size, mainly with malks. I knew there was a big colony of them in town, and now I had a good threescore of the vicious little killers slinking around in the haze and waiting for a chance to spill more blood. None of them were near the mortals who had followed me, which was what I had mostly worried about.
Hey, I thought, as loud as I could, in the direction of Winter. The mortals of Chicago are off-limits. Cross me on this and I’ll kill every last one of you.
What came back to me from the creatures of Winter was a sensation of . . . Well, it wasn’t compliance. It was deeper than that. My will became their will. I felt the adjustment of their very beings, their rising fury at the suffering inflicted upon . . . The closest thing I can come up with, to explain it, was that they felt the same rage a farmer does when something is after his livestock.
Maybe that’s as close to being protective as Winter gets. But it was hard and cold and real.
The Winter Knight doesn’t so much lead Winter’s troops as command them as he would any other weapon in his grasp.
I sent the malks out in a circular screen around us. I wanted to know when the enemy got close, and the little killers were as silent and swift as any wraith.

Battle Ground Chapter 19, Page 178-179