Her eyes narrow. She hates being left out, but right now, ignorance might save her life. Serena---bless her heart---asks Nova to help her brew more tea.
Nova's shoulders slump in resignation. "Alright, Grams. Lead the way."
With her occupied---for now---I follow Myles down the stone corridor to where the doctor waits, his lined face grim in the lamplight.
His Scottish brogue is thick as he outlines Boyko's condition: "Concussion. Heavy bruising. No broken bones, but we'll need to monitor for internal injuries." He pauses. "He should be in hospital."
"Thank you, Doctor. Myles will see you out." I slip him an envelope thick with cash. Sometimes, the old ways are still the best ways.
The sitting room is dim when I enter, lit only by a brass lamp that casts long shadows across Boyko's bat
