Page 71 of Blood & Ash

He had been there the whole time. Arms at his sides. His blue eyes tracked every movement. The hellforged scar caught the copper light and held it. He didn’t speak. He didn’t give orders. He watched his son run the operation, and his face gave nothing.

Marcus finished with a cut on a vampire’s forearm and packed his suture kit. The yard was quieter now. The hissing had stopped. The red pulses along the fence line were gone. The last artifact sat in the fire pit. Someone had doused it in kerosene. It burned with a green flame that died to orange, then to nothing.

Galen stood in the center of the yard and looked at what was left. “Done.”

Nobody argued.

Gabriel unclenched one fist. His fingers opened, closed, and opened again. He didn’t move from the edge of the yard. The gesture was small and private, the kind of thing only someone watching for it would catch.

Marcus caught it. He zipped his kit and slung it over his shoulder. The white coat was dirty at the cuffs. He’d wash it tonight or tomorrow. It didn’t matter.

The copper light was fading. It softened as it went. Shadows lengthened across the yard. The packhouse windows caught the last of the sun and held it in rectangles of gold.

Marcus walked toward the porch. His boots left prints in the churned dirt. Behind him, Galen was already moving people toward the next task. His voice carried, clear and certain, the kind of voice that expected to be followed.

Gabriel stayed where he was, watching, his fist still open.

The cleanup finished, and the group stayed together.

The last of the afternoon light dropped behind the tree line. Someone lit the brass lanterns on the packhouse porch. The flames caught and held and threw warm light across the churned dirt and the empty fire pit.

A wolf crouched next to Lucien near the fence line. They were comparing notes on the rune carvings. The wolf traced a shape in the dirt with his finger. Lucien nodded and said something low. The wolf made a correction. Lucien nodded again.

Two wolves stood by the water barrel. A nest member handed them tin cups without being asked. They drank and handed the cups back. Nobody said thank you, and nobody needed to.

Marcus stood near the porch steps. He wiped his hands on a cloth. The cloth was dirty. He’d used it to clean blood off his fingers twice during the cleanup. He folded it. Unfolded it. Wiped his palms again.

Gabriel crossed the yard.

He walked to Galen and stopped beside him, shoulder even with his son’s. He said something low, meant for the two of them. Marcus couldn’t hear the words and didn’t try to.

Galen’s jaw worked once, hard, and the scar on his cheek pulled tight. He gave one short nod.

Gabriel turned to face the assembled group, wolves and vampires and everyone else still in the yard. “Galen ran it. It’s done right.”

That was all. He walked back toward the packhouse. His boots made no sound on the dirt. The door opened and closed behind him.

The yard held the settled quiet that follows authority. People had been given a fact. They absorbed it and went back to what they were doing.

Marcus tucked the cloth into his kit and zipped it. The white coat needed washing, its cuffs dark with dirt and somebody’s blood, but he’d deal with it later.

An older wolf approached the porch steps.

Marcus knew him by sight, not by name. Silver streaked his beard. He was one of the pack’s emissaries, the kind of wolf who handled the things that required talking instead of teeth.

The emissary stopped three feet from the bottom step. He stood with his hands at his sides. His posture was careful: the courtesy of someone with an ask that couldn’t be delivered casually.

“Doctor,” the emissary said.

Marcus nodded.

“The Victorian ball,” the emissary said. “Three nights from now.”

Marcus went still.

The nest had been invited to the ball before, but only as tolerated outsiders. They stood at the edges, drank from their own glasses, and left early. Marcus had never been asked by name.

“This is a personal invitation,” the emissary said. “For you. The pack wants you there. At the table. In the room.”