Zinobia took off her lab coat and scowled at the tear on the sleeve. That was her last good one. She'd need to take them all into town to have them fixed. Shards of concrete crunched beneath her feet as she moved to the sink to wash her tools.

An overzealous demon had ripped one of the shackles from the wall and dislocated the poor lad's shoulder in the process. He was upstairs now where Theo or someone from his team could pop it back into place.

She watched blood and dirt swirl down the drain and fought to stave off exhaustion. Five. Five demons and this was how she was feeling. Josiah may have been wrong about her limit. Five was most definitely it.

I was not, he chimed in. At seven, you'll be passing out. Which is why I'll reiterate, this is not sustainable.

Zinobia nodded her agreement and shut the water off. Then she gathered her tools into her hands and poured her own magic into them. Soft, gold flames licked at the metal and slipped into the cracks and corners soap and alcohol couldn't reach, burning away the blood and dirt. Keeping her instruments sterilised was just as important as keeping the screamers shackled.

Back when she worked in the Clinics in London, they'd been careless about keeping tools and machines clean. Or rather, they were always so swamped there was too little time for cleaning. There were so many preventable infections, so much cross-contamination. When Roland put her in charge of this ward, she'd implemented cleaning standards so strict, she could safely conduct surgery on the floor.

A knock on the door pulled her from her reverie, and she blinked at her haggard expression in the mirror. "It's open."

Victor poked his head in. "Hey Doctor Baxter. Everything alright?"

"Yes. Did you need something?"

"No. Just wanted to make sure you were alright." He leaned against the doorframe and eyed the hole in the wall. "Today was a little rough."

She smiled. What a good lad. "I'm fine. Just a little tired." She put the tools away in the cabinet. "Have you and Alex been getting your gym hours in?"

He nodded. "We go on Saturday and Monday mornings now, since these screamers have been getting worse. Lord Ashbourne offered more help too, but I think we have a solid system with just the three of us."

And a smart lad, too. Zinobia nodded. "I think so too. But you should get home. We're already here later than we should be."

"Yes, ma'am." He inclined his head and disappeared down the hall.

Zinobia dried up the sink, hit the lights, and headed to her office. She only stayed long enough to drop the day's reports on her desk and retrieve her bag. Tomorrow, she and Vittoria would go into town to fit their dresses for Roland's party. Then they'd have a pleasant lunch at their favourite cafe and they could relax for a time. Establish some semblance of normalcy for once.

Unless she got called in.

Though that was rare. Screamers who didn't make it to Serenity Lake either died or were taken to All Saints' Hospital. Their methods were sedation or psychedelics, which either made the demon so bored or angry it either left or killed the patient, anyway. Last she heard, only around twenty percent of the screamers who went there survived. Though she tried not to trouble her mind with it too much. She couldn't save everyone.

Zinobia retrieved Apollo from the back gardens and made her way to the front of the Sanatorium. He shed dry grass and twigs all over the polished floor. She'd have to give him a good brushing when they got home, else they would end up tangled in his fur.

"Lady Bloodletter."

She paused halfway across the foyer. Roland was coming down the steps with Marcella Denning in tow. The latter gave Zinobia a wary look. Zinobia had thought she was twelve, because she'd only ever seen the girl from a distance. While she was on the shorter side, she'd outgrown the smooth, cherubic features of childhood.

"Could you wait for me outside a moment, please?" Lord Ashbourne asked. "There's something I wish to discuss with you."

"Sure." She needed to talk to him about the repairs needed to room three anyway, and this would be much faster than penning a repair report. Outside, she met Crowley in conversation with Violet Denning. He paused long enough to give her a polite nod. She returned the courtesy with a smile and descended the steps with Apollo in tow.

It was one of those rare sunny fall days in Aldemore. A chill lingered on the breeze, but the sun shined bright enough to mitigate it. The air smelled of evergreen sap and earth, something she'd have to go to a park to experience in London. Zinobia found a sunny spot on the drive and brushed the stray bits of grass from Apollo's fur.

Moments later, Roland emerged through the front entrance with Marcella in tow. "Lady Bloodletter, let me offer you a ride home. Violet, Marcella, I bid you a good evening."

Marcella looked like she wanted to say something but her mother cut in. "Of course Lord Ashbourne. And thank you again for the invitation." She gave Zinobia a pointed look, like getting an invitation Zinobia had received two weeks ago was something to turn green over.

Zinobia made her way to the car, and Crowley, polite as always, held the door open for her. "Thank you."

"Of course, madam." He took Apollo's leash and got him settled up front.

Roland slipped in beside her with a heavy sigh, leaned his head back against the seat, and shut his eyes. "Lady Bloodletter, could I interest you in buying Serenity Lake?"

"Absolutely not," she answered without missing a beat. While she suspected the question was asked in jest, she could never be too sure with these high society types.

He breathed a laugh and cracked one dark eye. "Thought as much."

"If only we could all be wealthy philanthropists." Zinobia cast her gaze out the window as they passed through the gates of the Sanatorium. "But while we're on the topic of Serenity Lake, room three needs repairs. A screamer ripped one of the shackles from the walls."

"Ah. I'll ensure it's repaired, then. Also, I have something for you." He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a slim black box. "Your formal invitation to my party. I know you're not much of a socialite, but I do hope you make it."

Zinobia accepted the box with a smile. "Hand delivered by the lord of the house himself. I'm flattered, and I'll do my best to be there. Are you nervous?"

"No, it's just a party. I held them all the time before..." His words trailed off and he shrugged. "Before."

"I don't mean the party. I mean opening yourself up. Engaging in the rituals of courtship again. Starting a family."

He fell silent for a long moment, his gaze moving back to the roof of the car. "I don't know. I've been avoiding this for so long. I suppose it's a little scary, but I see it as a necessary step in my journey to self-fulfilment."

Zinobia's eyebrows shot up. If that didn't sound like something straight from a self-help book. Not that she blamed him. She'd been through a confusing and scary time when she decided to take Vittoria in, and had checked out any motherhood book she could find in the library.

"Have you ever been married?" Roland asked.

Now there was a road she didn't want to go down with him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well." He shrugged. "I feel as though I don't know much of anything about you. You're such an anomaly."

She shrugged. "You're my employer. All you need to know is that I do my job and I do it well. You have access to my medical and employment and school records."

Roland arched a dark brow. "Can you tone down the formalities and just humour me for a moment?"

Not without a fight. "So you may add me to your compendium of village gossip? The answer is no," she added before he could protest further. "No, I have never been married. And I only volunteer that information because you can simply find out for yourself, anyway. The registry in London is public."

"Oh." The word hung in the air between them for a long moment. "May I ask why?"

Zinobia only heard his follow-up subconsciously. Her eyes were drawn out the window as they rolled to a stop at her house. Vittoria sat out on the front bench amongst the evergreens and blooming wildflowers.

With a boy.

He was tall, bright-eyed, a little on the pale side, but had a sunny disposition about him. His smiles were bright, if a bit crooked, and his curly mop of hair got into his eyes when he leaned forward to laugh a little too spiritedly at something Vittoria said.

Zinobia didn't wait for Crowley to open her door. She hopped out on her own and shouldered her bag before striding up the path. Vittoria and her friend went from giggling to horrified the moment they spotted her. They both stood and exchanged a look.

Zinobia, Josiah said, that boy's lungs are ruined. Filled with burning.

He must be a coal miner then.

"Good evening, mother," Vittoria greeted with a polite nod of her head. She positioned herself a little in front of the boy, as though her slight frame alone could protect him.

I'm staying out of this, Josiah said.

Good. Zinobia put on a smile she hoped was amicable. "You're not going to introduce me to your friend, Vittoria?"

The girl ducked her head and pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. "Mother, this is James Twell, James, this is my mother, Doctor Zinobia Baxter."

James stilled, eyes darting back and forth between Vittoria and Zinobia. The usual reaction. She and her daughter were night and day, almost literally. They'd get stares and endless questions when she'd drop Vittoria off to school.

"I'd suggest you choose your next words very carefully, Mr Twell," Zinobia said.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. He straightened, squared his shoulders, and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Baxter. Vittoria talks about you all the time."

"Only good things, I hope."

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she turned to find Crowley holding out Apollo's leash. She'd forgotten they were still here. Roland was watching the entire exchange over the roof of his car, a bemused expression dancing in his eyes. Now she'd surely be a part of the village gossip compendium.

"Thank you, Crowley." She accepted Apollo's leash with a smile and nodded to Roland. "Good evening, Lord Ashbourne."

"Lady Bloodletter." Roland tipped his head and settled back into his car. When they pulled off, she turned back to Vittoria and James. They were exchanging silent looks and shifting on their feet.

"Good evening to you as well, Mr Twell," Zinobia said pointedly. "Vittoria. At your leisure." She gestured at the house. Only the shuffle of Vittoria's feet indicated she followed. She knew this would happen, eventually. Vittoria was eighteen, in university, and enamoured with romance. It was only a matter of time before she manifested one of those fanciful love tales for herself.

Except love stories didn't play out that way in real life. No, in real life, love could get messy and hard and painful. Instead of falling for the charming prince, you get a coal miner with one foot in the grave.

Zinobia relieved herself of her shoes and coat and stuck her bag on the shelf. Apollo shook out his fur and trotted into the living room before flopping down in front of the settee. Vittoria sat cross-legged in the armchair, hugging a decorative throw pillow and worrying its fringe. Zinobia took a seat on the settee and leaned her head back, letting the silence linger between them.

"Are you angry with me, mother?" Vittoria asked, her voice small.

"No. I'm not angry."

"Are you angry with James, then?"

"No."

"Really? The look you were giving him could've frozen over all of London."

Zinobia cracked an eye and studied her daughter for a moment. "Vittoria, how long have you been seeing this boy? And when were you planning to tell me you were seeing this boy? When were you going to introduce me to him?"

She smoothed the fringe on the pillow. "Now?"

"Don't get smart with me."

"Mother, I'm eighteen."

"That doesn't answer any of my questions."

Vittoria huffed out a breath. "We're not really seeing each other. I mean, he walks me home from the train sometimes and we talk. He's a gentleman. And I was going to tell you about him. Eventually."

"Do you fancy him?" Zinobia asked.

He certainly fancies her, Josiah said.

I thought you were going to stay out of this, Josiah?

Fine, fine. He stood up out of her body, the icy sensation making her cringe. "I will be in the basement." When the door clicked shut behind him, silence ensued. Vittoria gave the pillow far more attention than it needed, picking non-existent lint from its surface,

Zinobia rubbed her eyes. "What's this boy's family like? Where does he live?"

"Well, they live on the Tracks and his mother and siblings work on Welbury Farm. He works in the coal mine to the north. The name escapes me, but sometimes he helps them out in the Farmer's Market in town. They're lovely people."

The Tracks. Not ideal. That was the roughest part of Aldemore, named so because it sat astride the tracks that lead to and from London. As far as she knew, most of the people who lived there were labourers. They married labourers and had children who became labourers. Coal miners, farmers, maids—people who had no choice but to forgo a proper education if they wanted to survive. People whose life expectancy was cut short by a life of toiling. Or a life of inhaling coal.

"I don't know about him, Vittoria," Zinobia finally said.

"Is it because he's poor?" she asked defiantly. "I was poor too when I got left on the clinic steps. And you were poor when you took me in." She gestured at their surroundings. "This life we're living is nothing more than a facade."

"It has nothing to do with his station, Vittoria." Zinobia leaned forward in her seat and kept her voice calm. "He's sick. His lungs are filled with coal. It's a wonder the lad can draw a breath."

Vittoria stilled, all her fiery defiance falling away like a rogue wind. The hard lines of her face softened and her gaze fell to her lap.

"And besides that, he works in a coal mine. What happens if there's an accident? A collapse? A cave-in. These are the things you need to consider before you pursue him further. I can't hate the boy. I don't even know him. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Vittoria met her eyes. "But you can help him. You and Josiah can help him, can't you?"

"Yes, but only if he wants to be helped. Tell you what." Zinobia stood and stretched. "Since you feel so strongly about him, invite him to dinner. It'll have to be after Roland's party, though."

"Fine." She tipped her nose up. "I will."