Page 134 of Malady

“Get back!” I snap. “Give him some room!”

The Beswick men crowd around us, their torches close enough that the heat catches against my face. Somebody calls for water, but I can barely hear them over the awful rattle of Gideon's breathing. His eyes roll back, and when I press my fingers beneath his jaw, his pulse is racing so fiercely that I can hardly count the beats.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to think of something that might help him, though I already know what I have to do. The thought makes my stomach twist. There are people gathered all around us, watching, and after everything Gideon has accused us of, I dread to think how they'll react when they see.

But his pulse continues to race beneath my fingers, and every breath grows weaker than the last. Whatever happens afterwards, I cannot leave my brother to suffer like this.

When I open my eyes, the colours of the square have disappeared beneath a deep, unnatural blue. Smoke from the torches curls through the air in pale, shifting ribbons, and Gideon's face looks almost colourless against the cobbles.

A gasp from somewhere behind me, followed by another, and another.

“Her eyes!”

Mrs Marchant cries out, and the people nearest us recoil, leaving a widening space around Gideon and me. Matthias stops halfway towards his fallen brother, staring at my face, while Thomas stumbles backwards, his eyes fixed on mine.

Oh, no. Not here. Not in front of everybody.

Gideon's weight sags against my arm, and I ease him onto his back, supporting his head as he struggles to draw another breath. His eyes have fallen shut, and the awful rattling in his chest weakens with every passing moment.

“Ophelia.” Iscairn's voice comes from just behind me, so low and strained that I almost fail to recognise it. “Ophelia, no.”

I know why he's asking, and after everything Gideon has done to us, I can hardly blame him. Yet the man lying here, filthy and feverish, is still my big brother, and whatever has happened between us, I cannot sit and watch him die when I have the means to ease his suffering.

“I'm sorry,” I tell Iscairn, my voice trembling as I reach for my gloves. “I have to try.”

I tug them off and tuck them into my cloak pocket, exposing the blackened skin of my fingers, and an uneasy murmur passes through the people gathered around us. The darkness still reaches from my fingertips to my knuckles, and although I've grown accustomed to the sight, several of the onlookers recoil, their eyes fixed upon my hands. For one awful instant, I want to cover them again, but Gideon is fading, and there isn't time to worry about what anybody thinks.

I pull open the neck of his cassock and press my bare palm against his feverish skin.

Blue light spills between my fingers, spreading across the filthy wool as the warmth rushes into him. I've used soulglimmer to soothe patients before, and to ease my own suffering, but I've never given so much at once. Gideon's back arches against the cobbles, his remaining hand clawing weakly at my sleeve as the light grows brighter.

“Come on,” I plead, leaning over him. “Come on, Gideon. Breathe.”

A rush of sensation tears through me with such force that I nearly pull away. His fever burns through my own flesh, followed by the sickening throb of his ruined arm, where the skin is rotting beneath those filthy bandages. Stranger still is the sensation of fingers clenching painfully around nothing, as though his missing hand is still there, crushed beneath some enormous weight.

Oh, God. How long has he been suffering like this?

Another brutal heave shakes him, sending fresh blood spilling down his chin, and I steady him as the light continues pouring into his body. I cannot restore his arm or rid his blood of the corruption spreading through it, but I can spare him the agony. Pressing my other hand beside the first, I send the warmth deeper, following the pain through his ruined flesh until the burning gradually subsides.

The light flares across his robes, spilling over the cobbles and illuminating the horrified faces around us. A basket overturns nearby, scattering onions beneath the feet of people scrambling to get away, while the brethren retreat with their torches swaying wildly above their heads. Gideon's hand clutches desperately at my sleeve, his whole body trembling beneath me, and I keep the glimmer flowing until his grip loosens and his next breath comes in a sudden, desperate gasp.

Then another.

The agony of his ruined arm fades beneath my hands, taking with it the awful ache of the fingers he no longer possesses. His fever still burns fiercely, and his breathing remains horribly laboured, but the pain no longer torments him. His shoulders settle against the cobbles, his hand slipping from my sleeve as I gradually withdraw the soulglimmer, leaving one palm against him while he draws another, quieter breath.

“Gideon?”

His eyes flutter open, and for a while he lies staring at me, his mouth slightly parted. The last traces of blue light are still flickering between my fingers, and when his gaze follows them up to my face, his eyes widen at the sight of the black membranes covering my own.

“Ophelia… what…” He swallows, his eyes moving anxiously over my face. “What have you done?”

“I've taken the pain away, Gideon.” I lean closer, watching him carefully as he draws another breath. “That's all. It hasn't made you better, not properly, but I've eased some of the suffering. You can feel the difference, can't you?”

His brow furrows, and for a few seconds he seems too bewildered to answer. His remaining hand moves towards the ruined stump of his arm, hovering above the filthy bandages as though he expects the slightest touch to send another wave of agony through him. But when his fingers settle against the linen, he merely stares.

“It…” His voice falters. “It doesn't hurt.”

“I know.” My heart breaks at the confusion in his face, and I have to resist the urge to reach for him again. “Listen to me, Gideon. You're terribly ill, and that wound needs tending before it gets any worse. I've got a dispensary here in York, not far from the market, and if you'll only let me take you there, I can clean it properly and see what can be done.”