The demon’s scream faded into the boy’s sobbing.

Lucian’s palm stayed pressed against the small forehead. The yellow light behind the child’s eyes had dimmed, but it wasn’t gone. Just hiding. Waiting.

"Now," Lucian said. "The circle. Reinforce it."

Derek moved first. His chalk traced new lines over the old ones, thicker this time, laced with more iron. Dr. Blackwood hovered at his shoulder, whispering the names of saints and seals. Cora placed fresh candles at the cardinal points. Mason added heat to the wax, melting the bases to the floor so they wouldn’t tip.

Sera kept her crossbow on the boy. Her hands were steady now. The demon’s taunts had faded from her ears, replaced by the cold focus of a hunter who had work to do.

"He’s weakening," she said.

"He’s hiding," Lucian replied. "There’s a difference."

The boy’s body jerked. His head snapped back. His mouth opened, and the voice that came out wasn’t his—wasn’t even the demon’s. It was something else. Something caught between.

"You think seals can hold me? I was old when your ancestors were fish."

Lucian didn’t answer. He knelt and began drawing a rune on the floor inside the circle.

Not with chalk. With his finger.

The stone blackened where he touched it. The lines glowed faintly red, then orange, then gold. The demon thrashed inside the boy, but the child’s body was pinned now, held by something heavier than gravity.

"What is that?" Cora asked.

"A containment seal. Old. Older than the Ashen Guard." Lucian’s hand moved without hesitation. "It doesn’t push the demon out. It locks it in place. Freezes it. Buys us time."

The demon laughed. The boy’s face was pale, sweat dripping down his temples. "Time for what? You can’t exorcise me without killing him."

"We’ll see."

The door opened.

Margie stood in the frame. She was wearing a grey jacket, her hair pulled back, a duffel bag over her shoulder. Her eyes swept the room—the circle, the candles, the possessed child, her brother kneeling on the floor.

"Margaret sent me," she said. "She thought you might need backup."

Cora frowned. "We didn’t request backup."

"Margaret doesn’t care."

Margie walked to the edge of the circle. She didn’t step inside. Instead, she opened the duffel bag and pulled out a small iron box, its surface covered in runes. Then a silver chain. Then a vial of liquid that steamed in the cold air.

"Advanced exorcism tools," she said. "From the Keep’s vault. Margaret had to pull favors to get them released."

Derek stared. "I’ve never seen those before."

"Because they’re not for rookies." She set the iron box on the floor. "The chain is for binding. The vial is sanctified water mixed with crushed angelica root. The box is for containing spiritual remnants."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "You know how to use them?"

"Margaret trained me. Just in case."

The demon watched her. Its yellow eyes narrowed.

"You’re the sister. The half-breed."

Margie didn’t flinch. "I’m the one who’s going to help put you down."

She stepped into the circle.

---

The demon erupted.

The boy’s body convulsed, arms and legs flailing. The candles flickered. The chalk lines hissed. Lucian’s rune blazed gold, holding, but cracks were forming at its edges.

"You can’t—"

"I can." Margie knelt beside Lucian. She placed the iron box at the center of the rune and pressed her palm against its lid. The runes on the box glowed in response, feeding into Lucian’s seal.

The demon screamed. The boy’s voice joined it, high and terrified.

"He’s still in there," Margie said. "The child. I can feel him."

"Then talk to him."

She leaned closer. Her voice dropped, soft and steady.

"Hey. Hey, kid. I know you’re scared. I know it hurts. But we’re going to get this thing out of you. You just have to hold on."

The boy’s eyes—brown again, for a moment—found hers. "Mom?"

"Not your mom. But she’s outside. She’s waiting. She wants to see you."

The yellow light surged. The demon shoved the child back down.

"Sentimental. Weak."

Margie’s jaw tightened. She grabbed the silver chain and wrapped it around the boy’s wrists. The metal hissed against his skin, raising steam. The demon howled.

"Now," Lucian said. "The vial."

She uncorked it. The liquid inside was clear, but it smelled like winter. Like frost on graves. She poured it over the boy’s head.

The demon shrieked.

The child’s body went limp.

For a moment, no one breathed.

Then the yellow light flickered—once, twice—and died.

The boy’s eyes opened. Brown. Human. Scared.

"Mom?"

Margie caught him as he slumped forward. She held him against her chest, his small body shaking.

"It’s okay," she said. "It’s over."

The rune faded. The candles went out. The room was dark except for the grey light filtering through the boarded window.

Lucian stood. His legs held. Then they didn’t.

He collapsed.

Cora caught him before he hit the floor. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. The seal had taken everything.

"Lucian?"

No answer.

She lifted him easily, one arm under his shoulders, the other supporting his legs. His head lolled against her chest.

"Margie. The boy."

"I’ve got him." Margie stood, the child in her arms. "Let’s go."

They walked out of the room, past the parents who were waiting in the hallway, past the neighbor’s house where they’d been hiding, past the muddy lane where the van idled.

The driver opened the doors.

Cora laid Lucian on the bench seat. Margie placed the boy beside him. The child was crying now, quiet tears, his hands reaching for his mother, who was running toward them through the mud.

Sera climbed in. Mason followed. Derek was last, his staff dragging, his ghosts close.

Dr. Blackwood’s voice was thin. "He pushed too hard."

"He always pushes too hard," Derek said.

---

The drive back was quiet.

The boy’s parents had taken him to a local clinic. The demon was gone. The child would live. The village of Harrowfield would sleep without nightmares for the first time in days.

Margie sat across from Lucian, watching his face. His breathing had steadied, but he hadn’t woken.

"He did that for a stranger," she said.

"That’s what hunters do," Cora replied.

"No. That’s what he does."

Cora looked at Lucian’s pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Yeah," she said. "That’s what he does."

The headlights cut through the dark.

The city lights grew closer.

And somewhere in the Keep, Alistair was waiting for their report. But that could wait.

For now, they rode in silence.