I hate now as I’ve never hated, with every part of mind and body. For forcing his touch upon me. For laying this fear on me, leaving me shaking and weak and taking refuge at Seth’s side. I hate him enough to embrace my powers, to release the dog just so I can watch it rip his throat out and soak this desecrated ground with his blood. Enough to become what I fear and lose all I hope for.

Seth lays a hand on my arm. He stands tall, face calm and commanding, though I see the pallor of his skin, catch a whiff of puke about him.

‘You leave her be,’ he says to Gabriel.

‘But, parson, you don’t know—’

‘We are all children of God, and you are to leave this one be. Always.’

‘No, she isn’t what she appears, you’ve been—’

Seth turns to me, speaks softly. ‘Go, now.’

I shake my head.

‘Go,’ he says. Drops his head lower to look me in the eye. ‘Go to your love, share your news.’

I glance at Gabriel. He listens to every word, frowning.

‘No,’ I say.

‘Begin the new path,’ Seth says. ‘I will calm the seas here, and see you both tomorrow night.’

I back away a few steps, then run to him again, kiss his cheek before turning and fleeing the hillside. The words that begin to pour from Gabriel’s mouth follow on the wind.

Witch. Whore. Slave of the Devil. Sorceress. Rising in volume and venom with each one.

I run from them. Run to Daniel. To our new life.

The Very Brink

They stood. Daniel and Father in the silent kitchen, looking about at the cold fire and empty table.

The sleepless night of excitement at what was to come and heartache for what he must leave had left Daniel exhausted, and filled with uneasy vigour.

Father looked at him, shrugged in an open-armed gesture of defeat.

‘Gabriel, I can understand,’ he said. ‘Bellyful of ale last night left him sore-headed and lazy, or he’s found a fray on the way in and delayed himself. But Bett – never been away a day, has she?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘Not one, but for the day she wed. And that they should both be gone—’

Father pulled on his beard. ‘Strange.’

They glanced around again, as though the absent persons might crawl out from under the table and confess some jest.

‘Little lassie will be milking, of course,’ Father said.

‘As ever.’ Daniel tried to keep his voice dispassionate. He had not seen Sarah this morning, could only hope that she was about her tasks as always. ‘Do you—’

The door swung open and Bett staggered through, panting and pressing a hand to her side.

‘Oh,’ she said, leaning against the wall. ‘Oh, news from the village, the most fearful news, and though I pray God it’s not true, but I have heard from many.’