“I know,” said William. He kept looking right into Mr. Stab’s unwavering gaze, unnerving as that was, because it was better than looking down at the blade at his throat. “But there’s nothing here in this library, no book or knowledge, that will let you bring the dead back to life. Only one man could ever do that, and I think we can definitely agree that you’re not him. I could help you raise the spirits of those poor unfortunate women, so you could commune with them, or raise up their bodies as zombies; but that isn’t what you want. What you need.”

Mr. Stab thought about that for a long moment, while William scarcely breathed, and then he stepped back abruptly and made his long blade disappear again. William put a hesitant hand to his throat, and breathed a little more easily as he only saw a few drops of blood on his fingertips.

“What else is there?” said Mr. Stab. He wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, and William clearly wondered if Mr. Stab was still talking to him.

“Else?” said William.

“I can’t undo what I did, can’t stop being who I am. Can’t even stop or escape through death. What does that leave?”

“There’s always atonement,” said William. “Perform enough good deeds to balance out your sins.”

Mr. Stab considered that. “Would killing in a good cause count?”

“I would say so, yes.”

Mr. Stab smiled for the first time. “Good thing there’s a war on, then.”

He turned and walked away. William watched him go, and then looked again at the blood on his fingertips.

Some time later I stood in the rose-coloured glow of the Sanctity with the Matriarch at my side, waiting for the others I had summoned to arrive. I didn’t know whether it was me, or the times, but Strange’s ruddy glow no longer calmed or comforted as it once had. Strange himself was very quiet. Perhaps he didn’t approve of the things I was having the family do, with the armour and power he so selflessly provided. I couldn’t allow myself to care. I had a war to win. I’d care later, if I was still alive.

Or at least I hoped I would.

“It’s never easy,” Martha said suddenly, her harsh, cold voice echoing in the great empty chamber. “Never easy, sending agents out into the field, possibly or even quite probably to their deaths. We do it because it’s necessary, for the good of the family and the world. But it never gets any easier.”

“Thanks for the thought,” I said. “But knowing that doesn’t help.”

“It will,” said Martha. “In time. I’m glad you came home, Edwin. Who could have known we’d have so much in common?”

“Eddie,” Strange said abruptly. “Sorry to intrude, but your meeting will have to wait. I’ve just been informed by the security people at the holding cells that Sebastian has been murdered.”

“What?” said the Matriarch. “That’s impossible! Not under our security!”