I couldn’t remember.
My first thought was to scrub myself raw, remove anything the flies might have left behind, even if I had to use lye to do it. I was halfway to my room before I thought of the cistern and the insect parts that swam in my basin.Oh god, no, I can’t—I couldn’t—
The cold, scientific voice in the back of my head stepped in at last. I think perhaps I had disgusted myself completely.Think. You need clean water. How do you make sure water is clean?
Boil it,I answered. I wobbled on the stairs, nearly falling, turned back, and went to the kitchen. I put a pan of water on the stove to boil, then collapsed into a chair. It was warm and stoking the stove made it hotter, but I was still so horribly cold.
The water boiled. It seemed fast. Had I really been sitting at the table, staring at nothing, for the entire time? It didn’t seem long at all. I pulled the pan from the heat, looking at the rolling water. I had a wild urge to try and breathe it in and burn the larvae out with it, but the cold voice had taken over.Don’t be ridiculous. You must wait for it to cool. While you’re waiting, take off those wet boots and skirt.
I obeyed. My socks hung limp and sodden as I pulled them off and dropped them back into the boots. I started to shiver again. The room seemed dark or maybe it was just my vision going dark at the edges.
When the water had cooled enough that it was only somewhat painful instead of scalding, I went to the scullery and scrubbed my face, rinsed out my mouth, wiping at my nose. God only knew if it would work. Maybe they were like the deer botfly and one had already flicked larvae into my mouth when I screamed, and they would gather in clusters inside my mouth, squirming like a dozen extra tongues…
I gargled until I nearly drowned. Then I poured more water over the back of my skull, scrubbing violently with the harsh kitchen soap. Strands tore, but I didn’t care. I had to stop it now, before I ended up likehim,before Halder locked me away on awire table and the flies clustered around my flesh and my fingernails grew as long as knives…
Mrs. Kent found me in the morning, slumped over the kitchen table. My hair was matted with soap and a pan half full of tepid water stood at my elbow.
“Miss Wilson?” she said, and then, carefully, “Sonia?”
I looked up at her blearily. I had to tell her something. I had to tell her that there was a monster in the shed and that Halder was the monster who kept it. I had to warn her. She could tell Jackson and he could bring the sheriff and they would go down where I had gone and see…
“Sonia, hon, what’s wrong?” She took a few steps toward me.
My tongue felt thick. “Halder,” I mumbled. “He’s got a monster. The flies… the botflies…”
She pressed her wrist to my forehead and swore. “Sonia, you’re burning up.”
I shook my head. “Can’t be. Too cold. You’re cold.”
“Hon, you’re running a great big fever.” She shoved her arm under my shoulders and half lifted me out of the chair. “And you sitting here barefoot? In your underclothes?”
“No. Mrs. Kent.Rose.The flies. There’s so many flies! You have tolisten!” I grabbed her arm, trying to make her understand, and then my vision swam sideways and Jackson was suddenly there. He swore and his wife didn’t scold him for it, which was surprising.
“Sonia,” said Mrs. Kent, in a no-nonsense voice, “you’re delirious.”
I blinked at her. “I am?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Unutterable relief swept through me. I was delirious. That meant it wasn’t real. “Oh thank god,” I said, and fainted.
CHAPTER 14
Of the next days, I remember little. I alternately froze and burned, wracked with shuddering that felt as if it would shake apart my bones. Those—and the bitterness of quinine sliding over my tongue—were the only things that I brought with me back to consciousness.
When I finally woke for good, I was looking up at familiar tin tiles with dragonflies on them. There was a weight on my ankles that began, almost immediately, to purr.
“Awake, are you?” asked a familiar voice. I turned my head on the pillow and saw Ma Kersey sitting by my bedside. “Going to stay awake this time, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I croaked. My throat felt as dry and tattered as an autumn leaf.
“Here, here, let’s get this into you.” She held out a cup of tea. I took it in a hand that only shook a little. I was braced for more quinine, but it was deliciously sweet and slid kindly across my dry tongue. “My own honey,” said Ma Kersey. “Well, the honey from my bees, anyway. They make it, but they’re kind enough to give me some.”
“How long have I been sick?” I asked.
“’Bout two days.” She took the empty cup back. “Bilious fever. Nasty flare-up, it was. Rose was afraid we’d lose you. Sent Jackson to roust me at the crack of dawn and bring me back here.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back unexpected tears. Gratitude, mostly. I was out of the habit of being helped.“Sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for having been sick or for crying.
