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“Dead. Felled by the hand of God in the village square during a terrible storm. Only thing is … not a soul saw him die. Only found his body with the evidence of a lightning strike. Never sat well with me though.”

I pulled away with a start, tugging my hand away from the man. I could still feel the imprint of his flesh against my own bare skin. My stomach roiled. I could scarcely breathe. “I need to go.”

“To get back to your husband?” His gaze drifted out the window to where I spotted the familiar shape of Ruan across the street. His head was down, hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket as he spoke to Father Crawford, the priest I’d met when I first arrived at Saint Oda’s. The older man had a cart and mule. I paused, curious what the two could possibly converse about. It was my understanding men of God did not take kindly to witches.

The edge of my mouth curved up at the thought, despite the growing weariness of my limbs. I’d never known ale to hit me quite so hard. I struggled to school my expression. “Yes. Him.”

I stared out the window, watching the two men until the old priest started off again, slowly leading his cart back up toward the priory, leaving Ruan standing there in the middle of town. It had been a frustrating slow start, but I’d certainly learned a great deal more than I had to start the day. If the villagers thought me some omen of death and destruction, that certainly explained the warning painted in blood on Mrs. Wauters’s door. But I was no closer to finding out who might have done it than I was this morning, nor did I know the identity of the imposter. I moved toward the exit, hand on the latch.

“I didn’t catch your name, Miss. I am called Alfred—” he called after me as I pushed open the heavy door, growing increasingly lightheaded. The sun hung low in the sky—I’d lost most of the day only to confirm my worst suspicions. It was doubly important I get back to the hospital at Saint Oda’s.

“Thank you, Alfred. Truly.” I dipped out into the street, not once pausing to give him my name.

CHAPTER FIFTEENIn That Path, Lies Death

WITH each step from the café, the muscles in my body loosened. Unwieldy. Unsteady. A thin line of sweat beaded up on my brow as I watched myself from somewhere outside my skin. Ruan was ahead, the edges of his figure blurred with the faintest golden glow. I blinked twice, vision swimming, and the world around faded to dark except for him. My foot skidded on the cobbled path, and I stumbled once—then twice. Ruan was closer now. Worried. His words came, but I did not hear them. Could not understand him.

He reached out, touching me, and the world went black.

Inky water swallowed me, tugging my body downward into its warmth. I was surrounded by darkness and her. My mother was with me. Her cool hand firmly wrapped around my own as we swam through the turbulent waters. I went. Unerringly floating along at her side as I had as a girl when we’d swim in the sea.

A thousand questions came to my lips and yet no words escaped them. I opened my mouth. My voice was gone. Stolen from me.

It was a dream. I knew it to be. I did not fight it—not this one. It wasn’t like the others. The water gave way to a room, draining out from beneath us. The world around dripping. Mother pushed open a door as darkness swallowed us both. The air inside was sharp. Sterile. My feet bare upon the cold tile floor. Her palm was flat upon my chest, pressed against my heart. A sudden rush of cold swept through me.

Where were we?

She took my hand again, pulling me to my feet and squeezed it tighter. The tide returned and water carried us from that room to another. One colder. Damp. A quiet drip. Drip. Drip. Echoed in my ears. Slippery stones beneath my feet. The air here was different. Damp. Green. Was this a grave? A bone-deep unease settled into me, ringing through every fiber of my being. A warning to turn back. To leave. I did not like this place. Not at all.

My mother’s hand tightened again as the waters swelled for a third time before again receding, leaving us alone on the shores of the lake. The darkness had lifted and a bright moon rose high overhead. My bare feet were stuck in the mud. The sky a violet-black with pinprick stars. In the water were two bodies. Men. Dead and floating upon the surface. My mother’s finger rose pointing into the night, and I turned to see Saint Oda’s looming upon the hill. Mother’s hand was cold as she pulled me deeper into the lake. One step. Then another. Into the dark still waters.

My thighs.

My waist.

Cold as death. It lapped up against me, pulling me back. Pulling me home.

My chin.

Deeper and deeper she led until I was once again submerged, unable to tell stars from sea. The welcoming embrace of death took me down. Calling me home.

Ruby … a voice echoed outside my mind. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Ruby. The voice came again, more forceful this time. My mother was pulling away. Her fingers slipping from mine. Water. Salt.

“Ruby … gods damn you … don’t go.”

The voice was so small, so broken that I could not bear the sound. I could not leave him. Would not.

And in a flash, my mother was gone. Slipped through my fingers and back into the waters of the lake. My lungs felt odd, as if I were still trapped beneath the surface. My mouth tasted of the earth. Of death and life and salt all wrapped into one. I wet my lips and the sensation vanished. I struggled to sit up in bed, but couldn’t move, my nightdress soaked and sticking to my skin.

Nightdress?

At last, my body answered. I shifted and opened my eyes, staring at the clapboard ceiling of the boardinghouse. The room was barely lit and a blanket held me tightly affixed to the mattress—like a babe in swaddling. I managed to roll over to see Ruan sitting at the small table, his head buried in his hands.

He was … weeping?

I opened my mouth, struggling to form words but just as in the dream—they would not come. My voice. My voice had been taken. I reached over to the nightstand, struggling for water. For something as the panic rose in my throat. With a crash I knocked over a glass, shattering it upon the floor.

Ruan shot to his feet, watching me with disbelief. Emotions flickered through him. Fear. Hope. Relief. All wrapped into one as he raced to the bed and scooped me up into his arms. He crushed the air from my lungs, pressing a hard kiss to the top of my head. He was arguing with himself in Cornish and I could not for the life of me understand what had happened.