Inside the carriage, Elsbeth sat in silence, watching Cordelia soothe Harrow. The dog lay prone along the bench, eyes closed as Cordelia’s fingers traced the scratches across his right shoulder and chest. Her low, melodic chant hummed through the air, steadying his breath and smoothing the tension from his fur.


    Elsbeth swallowed. The fear of what had happened finally surfaced, creeping through her in waves. She relived the moments of sheer terror—fighting for her life, protecting Cordelia, and worst of all, watching Hex, brave but foolhardy, locked in close combat with the most horrifying creatures she had ever imagined, let alone encountered.


    Percy, of all people, had saved them. Percy. The boy who flinched at his own shadow. It defied belief.


    Her rational mind rebelled against accepting that tonight had been real—an actual, waking nightmare. This, only days after the sight of that young boy propped up in his grave, scared and lonely, eyes searching, his voice full of fear and sadness. That night, something inside her had fractured, shattered like glass, its shards scattering to the dark corners of her mind. Jagged pieces waited in those recesses, ready to cut her if she probed too far.


    And now, she felt even more broken.


    Yet, Elsbeth refused to break even as she teetered on the edge of collapse. The reality of what she had experienced might defy science and faith alike, but she would confront it. Answers existed. She would anchor herself in the tangible, the empirical. She would understand.


    She took a steadying breath, then finally spoke—her voice tinged with anger, fear still clinging to its edges.


    “Harrow may not need stitches, but we should do them anyway, to be safe. Hex won’t be as fortunate—judging by his trousers, his wounds are far worse.”


    Cordelia didn’t turn. She nuzzled Harrow’s muzzle, murmuring, “We’ll tend to him at the flat. He’s fine, aren’t you, love?” Her lips brushed his ears as she stroked his head. “Mummy loves you so much, darling. Auntie Els will make you all better, and never worry, Harrow—I will always protect you as you protect me.”


    Elsbeth’s expression softened. She understood what Harrow meant to Cordelia. He wasn’t only a protector, a companion—a stand-in for the child Cordelia longed for but might never have. Harrow was Cordelia’s constant, offering unconditional love in a world that often took more than it gave.


    All right, enough brooding.


    Elsbeth forced herself back to focus. Hex needed her attention now.


    He was her brother, yes—but more than that, she had always been his caretaker. Their parents had been good to them, loving in their way, but gentle nudges were their only guidance. Elsbeth had pushed Hex when he needed pushing and pulled him back when he veered too far off course.


    Then there was Percy.


    She didn’t even know where to start with him. Although he was treated like family and considered a brother, her connection to him was very different.


    With Hex, love came with exasperation.


    With Percy, love came with a hard edge.


    The house staff had henpecked Percy and treated him like a delicate thing. He was a boy who had been kept safe in the nest for too long. He was timid, afraid to be alive.


    Until tonight.


    Her jaw tightened. Timid, coddled Percy, who’d somehow rallied tonight. His quick thinking had saved Hex’s life. She’d have to reassess him—with gentle hands. But not too gentle. The boy still needed a boot to his backside more often than not.


    She leaned forward and peered through the window. Hex sat slumped in the driver’s seat, his posture alone telling her what he wouldn’t admit.


    She rapped the carriage window. “Pull over. Now.”


    The carriage slowed, wheels crunching over the dirt road before pulling off near a cluster of trees.


    Shadows draped across the clearing, and the whisper of wind in the branches made the surrounding field feel vast and exposed despite its small refuge.


    Hex shifted in his seat. “Here’s good. No one will spot us from the road.”


    The carriage jolted to a stop.


    Elsbeth opened the door when she saw Hex swaying in the driver’s seat. His face was pale beneath the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow, his usual ruddy complexion drained.


    “You should’ve let me drive,” Percy muttered, voice tight. “You’re hurt—”


    “I’m fine,” Hex cut him off, though his words were slower than usual, thick and groggy. He tightened his grip on the seat’s edge and tried to dismount, his wounded leg hanging awkwardly.


    A four-foot drop to the ground.


    He hesitated, jaw clenched.


    “Let me help you,” Percy said, dropping down and moving around to his side.


    “I said I’m fine,” Hex snapped, though frustration laced his words more than anger. He shifted to slide down, but the moment his injured leg bore weight—


    He gasped, staggered—


    Percy caught his arm, easing him down before he could crumple outright.


    Elsbeth was already there, crouching beside him. “Let me see.”


    Hex leaned back against the carriage, breath hitching. His trouser leg was soaked with blood, the fabric dark and sticky, clinging to the deep gash above his ankle. The area was already swelling, bruising spreading in dark, mottled patches.


    “I told you I’m fine,” Hex repeated, his voice weak.


    Elsbeth shot him a look. “You’re not. Please don’t lie to me. That’s not what we do.”


    She peeled the fabric back with care.


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    One long, jagged gash stretched across the side of his lower leg, narrowing as it reached the ankle. Another, more minor cut crossed below it. The bleeding had slowed, but the deeper wound gaped open, in need of stitches.


    “It’s not the worst I’ve seen,” Elsbeth said, calm but forced. “But it’s bad enough. You’re lucky you didn’t slice a tendon.”


    “Lucky,” Hex echoed, head tipping back against the carriage. His breath was shallow, eyelids fluttering.


    Elsbeth pressed two fingers to his cheek—clammy, skin cool.


    “Stay with me,” she murmured. “You’re not passing out on me, Hex. Not here.”


    Cordelia appeared beside her, gaze flicking between Hex and the wound. She tilted her head, watching the blood and swelling with an unreadable expression. Her fingers closed around the vial of tincture in her pocket—the one with myrrh.


    "Oil of turpentine," Elsbeth murmured, readying herself to clean the wound. "We''ll need to stitch this before it worsens. Then you can apply whatever you''re holding in your pocket."


    Elsbeth turned to Cordelia. "What is it, exactly?"


    "A tincture of myrrh. We''ll apply it before wrapping his leg—it should speed the healing."


    Elsbeth nodded. "I have some sterile gauze we can use to cover the stitched wound, though we''ll need linen for the dressing."


    She withdrew Oil of Turpentine from the bag stowed in the carriage.


    "Hex, you might want to bite down on your hat. This is going to sting."


    "I refuse to ruin a perfect hat—it’s the first one that’s fit me properly."


    Hex turned to Percy. "Be a friend and put your hand over my mouth."


    Percy gave Hex a deadpan stare. "Bite down on your hat, you stupid ox. I''m quite fond of my hand, so I will not put it anywhere near your mouth."


    Before Hex could finish arguing, his words transformed into a scream as his body went rigid, and his wounded leg jerked.


    "Bloody hell, Elsbeth! You enjoyed that, didn''t you?" Hex growled.


    "Quite a bit, brother. Almost makes up for the time you stuck gum in my hair."


    "Ha! That was a response to you putting ants in my porridge. You told me they were tiny raisins. Besides, you learned a valuable lesson that day."


    “Really? What lesson did I learn?”


    “You learned that scissors were not the proper course. A simple application of warm water would have dissolved the gum completely. Instead, you cut your hair and looked like an old broom.”


    The two glowered at each other, neither speaking, both dwelling on their shared history of sibling warfare.


    “The ants were protein. I was making you strong. You couldn’t even taste them.”


    Hex gasped. “I could feel them crawling around inside me. It wasn''t enjoyable. I thought they would eat their way through me, making little holes, and then everything would leak out.”


    “Well, that’s hardly as bad as when you put itching powder in my knickers. My peach was red for a week. I had to seek relief in a cold bath, for hours, every day.”


    “So did I!” Hex exclaimed. That was my punishment. Mrs. Granson stripped me down and dunked me in the tub with you. When we got out, your peach was still bright red, and my noodle was so shriveled and shrunken it might as well have been a peach.”


    Percy and Cordelia shared a knowing glance. Both had been around for these events and many others. Their sibling rivalry was infamous, and the two non-siblings had done their best to steer clear anytime the two started scheming.


    “Well, Hex, I suppose it’s good we’ve outgrown all that silly nonsense. I can’t imagine what it would be like if we still found ways to torture each other. Can you?”


    Hex''s voice filled with anxiety. "Wait? What? I don''t like the sound of that, sister. I insist that you let bygones be bygones. That is what family does, is it not?"


    Elsbeth didn''t hear him. She was already threading the needle.


    Elsbeth turned to Cordelia. “What would you say, Cee? Ten to twelve sutures should be about right?”


    Hex glared at her. “I’m reminding you that I am your patient—under your care. You''re bound by the hypocrite''s oath to ease my suffering.”


    Elsbeth rolled her eyes. Hex meant the Hippocratic Oath. She was not an actual doctor; she only felt loosely bound by its ideals.


    Cordelia turned to Percy. “Let’s take a walk and let Elsbeth do her work.”


    As they strolled through the field''s grass, behind them, they heard Hex grunt and swear while Elsbeth admonished him for being a grown infant.


    “Do you think those two will ever change, Percy?”


    Percy stopped and looked back. He thought for a moment, then answered. “I hope not.”


    Cordelia smiled, taking his hand. “Me too. I love them both just the way they are.”


    <hr>


    With the sutures and dressing complete, Hex sat in the carriage’s doorway, looking better. Some of the color had returned to his face.


    Elsbeth stood to the side, staring toward the horizon. She was quiet and withdrawn, still weighing the night''s events—their narrow escape from death, Hex''s injury, and Percy''s reckless retrieval of the mysterious box. They were dancing too close to the razor''s edge, and tragedy was inevitable if they continued this way.


    She watched as Cordelia savored a smoke while Corvus squawked his displeasure at the wisps curling around him. Harrow had regained his usual demeanor, though his movements still betrayed lingering pain.


    Percy stood near Hex, hands buried in coat pockets, eyes on his feet.


    Elsbeth knew her somber mood cast a shadow over the group, but they each needed time to process their brush with death. While Percy would likely agonize over every detail, Cordelia and Hex would soldier forward with their usual pragmatism. Though part of her wished they could celebrate their survival together, Elsbeth''s mind dwelled on Cordelia''s dangerous fixation on her investigations. But now was not the time. It would have to wait until they were alone.


    She returned to stand with Hex and Percy, hoping her feigned smile would lighten the mood.


    “Percy, you’ll need to get us back to the city. As Hex’s doctor, I have given him strict instructions to take it easy.”


    Percy looked down the road in thought.


    "Isn''t there a church a few miles from here? We could rest there until morning. I''d prefer not to navigate these roads in the dark."


    "A church? Do you want to burn that down as well?" Hex said, only half-joking.


    Percy only stared, unsure how to respond.


    "That was quick thinking—setting the place on fire. You may have found your calling: resident arsonist."


    Though Hex tried to joke, the pain made his delivery fall flat.


    "Thank you, by the way. It was brilliant. You probably saved all of us."


    The sincerity was there this time, and Percy knew that Hex meant every word.


    Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just thinking… it might be good to be near something holy. You know, in case…”


    He gestured at Hex’s leg.


    “In case you start to turn.”


    Hex stared at him, then at his leg, his face a shade paler. “You mean… turn into one of those things?”


    “Percy!” Elsbeth said, punching him in the arm. “Why would you say something like that?”


    Percy clutched his shoulder where the punch had landed.


    “Miss Cordelia told me to keep an eye on him, in case—you know—he started showing the signs.”


    “Really?” was all Elsbeth could muster.


    All eyes turned to Cordelia.


    She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Percy, my love. Why must you betray me?”


    Percy blinked. “It wasn’t a betrayal, Miss Cordelia. You told me to watch him.”


    “As a precaution. With subtlety. I didn’t expect you to announce it to the patient.”


    “Percy’s right, however. We should go to the church- as a precaution. If he starts to turn, holy water might do the trick. If not, we’ll put him down before he can harm anyone.”


    Elsbeth was aghast at the thought and spun on Cordelia, who was quick and prepared, spinning away while laughing hysterically.


    “Hilarious, Cordelia. Look what you’ve done to poor Hex. He’s as white as a ghost.”


    “Oh, it was worth it, my dear. The look on your face when I said, ‘Put him down.’. I think I peed myself.


    Elsbeth could see Percy holding back a laugh and the overwhelming relief in Hex’s posture.


    She let out a long sigh. At least the mood was brightening.


    Hex attempted to join the levity.


    “By the way, Els, you look very nice in ''lady'' trousers. You should make that your thing.”.


    Cordelia nodded in approval. “We should get you some that fit better—made with a woman in mind. Show off your curves a bit more. You could start a new trend. Everyone in London will follow suit. You know what sheep they are.”


    Elsbeth shook her head. “I don’t think they''re ready for that, and I’m sure I’m not ready.”


    She smiled, happy they were alive, but it had been a long night. It was time to go home.


    “All right. Let’s get this circus moving. I want to sleep in my bed for once.”


    As the boys moved into place, Cordelia pulled her aside.


    “I do like you in trousers,” she whispered, her mouth close to Elsbeth’s ear. “But, all joking aside, the church might be the best idea.”


    Then, without waiting for a response, she slipped past Elsbeth, her hand sliding across her derriere.


    Elsbeth inhaled, torn between irritation and something else she wasn’t ready to name.


    She exhaled through her nose, rolling her shoulders back as she turned to Percy.


    “Percy, assuming you’re not planning on burning it to the ground, let’s stop at the church until morning.”