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“You’re standing in it.” Marcus crossed the room and lifted her onto the counter before she could object. A narrow cut marked the side of her foot, bright against the skin. “You also forgot your shoes.”
Del looked down. She had been in the apartment when the window broke and had run downstairs without stopping for them. “It’s a scratch.”
“That description has never improved an injury.”
Marcus removed the glass with tweezers and cleaned the cut while Del watched the crowd outside. Mrs. Harlow stood near the bakery holding her shopping bag against her chest. Two wolves lingered at the corner, their expressions closed.
Mara Alcott pushed through the onlookers. She carried a broom and a sheet of plywood beneath one arm. The crowd quieted when she entered the shop.
Del’s shoulders tightened. Marcus felt it and kept one hand around her ankle. Mara placed the plywood against the wall, then swept without speaking.
“You don’t have to do that,” Del said.
“Elise’s fever dropped this morning.” Mara pushed the glass into a pile. “Half a degree. Marcus said your binding bought her time.”
“It may not buy enough.”
“It bought this morning.” Mara stopped sweeping and looked at the message beside the stone. “Denny doesn’t get another morning. I’m angry enough to understand whoever threw that, but anger doesn’t make the words true.”
Del looked at the woman who had struck her. The bruise on Del’s cheek had turned yellow at the edges. Mara’s gaze touched it and moved away.
“I should have stopped filling the orders,” Del said.
“Yes.” Mara resumed sweeping. “And Arrow shouldn’t have ordered them. Rosalind shouldn’t have agreed. I should have forced Denny to see Marcus when the fever started instead of trusting a tea to fix it. If we start throwing stones at everyone who should have done something sooner, there won’t be a window left in town.”
Marcus taped gauze over Del’s foot. “Stay off it for an hour.”
“I’ve a window to cover.”
“Mara brought plywood.”
“I noticed.”
The front door opened, and Ramsey entered carrying a hammer and a box of nails. He gave Marcus a look that suggested the doctor had arranged the entire scene to inconvenience him. Two younger wolves followed with gloves and buckets.
“Gabriel sent us,” Ramsey said. “The shop falls under the town protections until Arrow is gone.”
Del stared at him. “The coven is no longer under the agreement.”
“Didn’t say the coven.” Ramsey picked up the plywood. “Said the shop.”
Outside, the crowd dispersed. Mrs. Harlow crossed the street after the wolves went to work and placed a small paper bag on the counter. Bread from the bakery warmed the bottom.
“You’ll need breakfast,” she said. “Windows always take longer than expected.”
Del thanked her, though the words caught in her throat. By eight, the broken glass had been removed, the opening covered, and a temporary ward drawn across the plywood. The shop looked wounded but secure.
Marcus remained after everyone else left. He stood beside Del behind the counter and unfolded the note from the stone. “Do you want to keep this?”
“Why would I?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what? That someone grieving has ink?” Del took the paper from him and fed it into the lamp flame. “I remember what I did. I don’t need Arrow or anyone else deciding which version of it I carry.”
The paper blackened and curled. Marcus held the metal waste bowl beneath it until the last ash fell. “Good.”
Del looked at the repaired window, Mara’s broom near the door, and the bread Mrs. Harlow had left. The town hadn’t forgiven her. It had simply refused to let one person’s accusation speak for everyone.
