Page 86 of Malady

His lips peel back, showing the dark gaps where several teeth have rotted away, but as he drags me towards the stairs, a smell hits me.

Incense.

Why does Billy smell like my brother?

“Got the witch!” Billy bellows, spraying spittle across my cheek as I struggle against his grip. “I've got ’er! She's reet ’ere!”

“Billy, stop!” I try to twist out of his arms, but a cough catches in my chest, doubling me over as he hauls me onto the top step.

My bare heels strike the edges of the steps, slipping uselessly over the wood as I try to find something to stand on. Every jolt pulls painfully through my groin, and when my bad leg catches beneath me, I cry out and clutch at Billy's arm to stop myself from falling. He drags me harder, half-carrying me down the last few steps until the freezing air from the broken shop door washes over my sweat-soaked body.

My shop. No, not my shop…

There’s glass everywhere. Broken bottles lie scattered among the wreckage of my shelves, their contents spreading across the floorboards beneath the mud and snow trampled inside. Someone’s overturned the little table beside the counter, and my dried herbs are strewn across the floor, crushed beneath boots that have no business being in here.

“Let her go!”

Iscairn’s voice comes from the stairs above us, followed by a crash that sends a shudder through the wall. I try to turn towards him, but Billy catches me against his chest and hauls me off my feet, carrying me through the doorway and straight out into the freezing lane.

Snow lashes my face and bare legs as Billy carries me across the cobbles, and through the wind I can hear people shouting, their voices running together until I cannot make sense of a single word. When I manage to lift my head, the whole bloody lane seems to be full of them, torches held high above faces I’ve known all my life.

Mrs Higgins stands beside the smithy with both hands clapped over her mouth—dead and buried in lime, yet staring all the same. Arthur is there amongst the crowd, and Mary Vance too, their pale, dirt-streaked faces wedged between the living.

I reach towards them, desperate for somebody to help me, but the nearest villagers shrink away, pulling their cloaks over their noses as though I might infect them simply by looking their way.

My shift has ridden up, leaving the whole twisted length of my ruined leg exposed to the torchlight.

And every last one of them can see it.

“Please,” I manage. “Somebody⁠—”

“Look at 'er!” Billy shouts. “Your apothecary's got the Devil in 'er! I saw that wicked light with me own eyes! It ’ent there now, but it were!”

“Billy, please⁠—”

“No wonder we're all bloody dying!” he bellows, his face red with cold and excitement as he turns towards the crowd. “She's been bringing the Devil into our houses, and we've been letting 'er!”

“Iscairn!” I try to scream towards the house, straining to see past the people gathered around me. “Iscairn, please!”

Smoke pours through the broken doorway, swallowing the lower windows as the orange glow from my bedroom flickers against the falling snow. My medicines, my books—all those years spent filling the shelves with things meant to keep people alive, and now half the parish is standing outside watching it burn.

“No, no, no,” I sob against his shoulder. “Iscairn!”

Another crash comes from inside, followed by a man’s scream, and Brother Matthias stumbles through the doorway with one hand pressed to his shoulder. Brother Leon follows, limping so badly he has to catch the doorframe to stay upright.

Where is Iscairn? Why isn't he coming out?

“Put me down!” I shriek, hammering my fists against his chest. “I have to go back!”

“Easy, Ophi. Easy now.”

Above me, Billy’s broad, sweating face warps strangely in the torchlight, his features narrowing as the rotten gaps between his teeth disappear. His hair darkens into a familiar mess of brown curls, falling across a forehead I’ve known all my life.

“Gid?”

“There you are.” His face crumples with relief as he adjusts his hold beneath my knees. “Oh, Ophi. What has he done to you?”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of the change, but the snow keeps striking my face, and the shouting around us is so loud that I can barely hear my own breath.