Caleb's family returned on a budget airline. Their taxi stopped outside the estate gates, where yellow Guild Enforcement tape crossed the Blackwood crest.
The flight had taken every connection available from the Northern Territories. By the time they arrived, the polished luggage from the convoy was scratched and gray.
I watched from the drawing-room window. Their luggage was scuffed, and Martha still wore yesterday's fur wrap.
For a few seconds, all four stood beside the taxi and stared at the tape. Caleb read the Guild seal, tore it loose, and pushed through the gate.
Caleb tore down the tape and came up the driveway with the others behind him.
He found me in an armchair with a cup of Earl Grey. Movers were packing the last of his family's belongings into numbered boxes.
Uniformed
