There were still some people who wanted her removed from the pack and locked up at the manor, and even more so because she was actively performing magic. As the hospital filled up to capacity and the council howled for her blood, I didn’t know how to hold out another day.
Then Sadie hit upon a potion that worked. Instead of just treating the symptoms, it seemed to completely halt the diseasein its tracks. By the time she mastered it, several more people had died, but once we began administering the potion, no one else was lost.
The problem is, it isn’t a cure. All it does is stop the progression of the disease. If you were bedridden before you took it, you stay that way.
We passed the potion on to the rest of the pack, and it seemed to halt the spread. Plenty of people refused to take it, but once the sickness came for them, they ended up caving in and giving magic a chance.
If they hadn’t, we might not have a pack left at all.
“Sadie,” I say, and she just shakes her head.
She’s convinced she can cure it. I hope she’s right, but I don’t want her to give her life for it, even if it means losing my own…
“I need air,” she says, and abruptly walks out of the kitchen towards the back doors. I look at the implements on the table, understanding absolutely none of them. There is a big leather-bound book open near me, and I don’t recognize half the symbols in it.
I’m so tired and sick, I probably couldn’t read a children’s book right now.
Children’s book.
I think of the beautiful routine I had with my daughter, and my chest aches as if a blunt blade has been turned over in my heart. For a brief time, I lived an idyllic life with the woman I love and the child we have together, and now I find myself in the worst hell I could possibly imagine.
Sadie’s potion has helped so many, and not just with the sickness. A lot of people see how hard she’s working to cure usand really believe that she means us no harm—and that perhaps witchcraft isn’t evil. The old prejudice still exists, though, and plenty of people don’t trust her. Including the council.
When I realize how long Sadie has been gone, I go back through the kitchen, pausing to look out into the main hall before I leave. All I see is row after row of beds full of sick people and exhausted, wrecked people like myself trying to care for them.
Hell. This is hell. It has to be. Maybe I died and don’t remember.
I shake my head violently, trying to clear it of that thought, but all I do is make myself dizzy. I turn towards the back doors and go out into the night. Even though I can hear the crickets sing and the rustle of creatures in the trees, it’s like my senses are muffled, and for the first time in my life, I’m actually afraid for my own safety.
I know what it is now to feel fear for my child or my wife, but this is the first time I’ve ever contemplated permanent disability for myself… or even death.
I walk a short way from the hall, and eventually I find Sadie kneeling under a tree. She’s rocking back and forth, her hands on her head, crying softly.
“Please,” she moans as if she’s imploring the sky. “Please help me.”
“Sadie,” I say, hurrying to her. “It’s okay.”
She shakes her head and tries to push me away, but eventually gives up and cuddles into my chest, clinging to me.
“Rhys,” she gasps through her tears. “Why? I’m trying so hard.”
“I know, baby, I know,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “It’s okay.”
“Stop saying that!” she cries. “Nothing is okay. Everything is fucked up.”
I have nothing to say to that, so I just hold her, rocking us back and forward. I’ve kept her shielded from all the pack business, so she doesn’t know that the council wants to speak to her, and much of the pack still rejects the idea of witchcraft, even when it’s helping them.
“I need to do something,” she mumbles, her hands on my shoulders as if she doesn’t know whether to push me away or hug me tighter.
“You have done something,” I point out. “You’ve eased everyone’s pain with that potion.”
“But I haven’t cured the disease. The potion will stop working, I know it will. Already, people are relapsing.”
A shudder runs down my spine at her words, but I’m simply too sick and exhausted to acknowledge that fact.
“We’ll think of something.”
“No,” she chokes out. “Ihave to think of something. No one else can.”
