In Mercy, Rain (Wayward Children, #7.5)

by Seanan McGuire

Dr. Bleak began to think that one day, he would be afforded the dearest gift any monster of the Moors could receive: he would be able to stand aside from his duties and retire, giving his windmill and his title over to the girl who dogged his steps, her hands covered and her eyes bright. Her sight was not as keen as her gaze, and she began to fashion and mill her own spectacles, forging the frames in the stormlight glare of the flickering clouds, grinding the glass by the firelight until their concave shapes perfectly magnified the world to suit her. Glasses, a high-buttoned collar, tight-braided hair, and leather gloves became the hallmark of the mad scientist’s apprentice, marking her plainly even for those who had never met her before. Wanderers to their principality began to trust her on sight, which was for the best, as Jill was growing and changing at the same pace, and the mad scientist’s apprentice shared her face with the vampire’s beautiful daughter. As the summer of her fifteenth year in the world and her third year in the Moors broke across the horizon like a blood-specked egg, Jack felt she had found her place and her purpose. She would be the best windmill keeper the Moors had ever known. She would repair and rebuild the bodies of the citizenry, heal their ailments, and keep them as safe as they could possibly claim to be while standing in a vampire’s shadow. And when the time came for her to fight her sister, she would do that as well, with the same clinical...