Shan was sweating by the time they made it to the incinerator room, and her arms ached from the awkward burden they were carrying. Bart was breathing heavily, less accustomed to such physical work, and unable to draw on Blood Working to supplement his strength. But he carried on without complaint, and Shan was grateful for that. For all that he was willing to do for her sake—for her brother’s sake.

It was more than she had ever expected, even from him.

But the incinerator was there, and they tossed the body in with hardly a care for how it landed. This wasn’t a formal cremation. Shan didn’t dress her father in his finest, didn’t cross his arms over his chest, or make sure his features were peaceful.

What did it matter? Soon he’d be nothing but ashes.

“The others,” Shan said, and Bart groaned. She understood his pain, but they needed to get rid of them, too. Leaving her father’s corpse where it lay, they returned upstairs to grab his first guard, and then, tired and aching, repeated the trek for the second.

“There,” Bart wheezed. “We’re done.”

“Our clothes,” Shan corrected, and Bart sighed. He stepped up behind her, quickly unlacing her dress. Shan let it fall to the ground, landing on dust and soot. Bart stripped her petticoats as well, leaving her in naught but her underthings. “Any blood get through?”

Bart leaned back, studying her. “No, there’s none.”

Shan nodded. “Now you.” Bart wrinkled his nose, but peeled off his shirt, revealing his dark skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a whole wardrobe of fine outfits to replace this,” Shan promised. “Though if Anton had his way you’d never need to wear them.”

Bart laughed, the serious expression dropping away, reminding her of his youth. Their youth. They were both so young. “The things I do for love.” With a few quick movements, his clothes joined hers on the floor.

Shan didn’t pause. She scooped them up, uncaring of the streaks of soot that stained her arms, and threw them into the incinerator with the bodies. “There.”

Bart stepped around her to slide the door shut, locking away all the evidence. “It’s done.”

Shaking her head, Shan grabbed her friend by the hand, leading him away from the incinerator. Together, they left the room, shutting the heavy metal door behind them. Grabbing the lever, Shan pulled down hard and released the fire.

“Now it’s done,” she said, as the flames roared.

Bart grabbed the cloaks that he had stowed away. Stepping around Shan, he placed one across her shoulders, soft and gentle, tucking her away from prying eyes.