down the malodorous brew.
‘Dead. Defunct. Expired.’ She lifted the plate of toast over to Sadie. ‘If you drink all the potion you won’t be sick when you eat.’
The girl sipped the drink, her nose wrinkled and her eyes shut.
‘That’s disgusting.’ She put the empty glass down and balanced the plate on her lap. ‘You can’t have been dead.’
Jack hesitated, trying to find the words to explain it to Sadie. ‘I was destined to die nearly twenty years ago. Maggie saved me using this special treatment. The same treatment we are giving you.’
‘What do you mean, destined?’ The girl was looking around the room, her gaze returning again and again to the shackle on the floor where the chain was anchored.
Jack picked a couple of dog hairs off her buttery toast and took a bite while she tried to find the words to explain. ‘I don’t completely understand it,’ she said, ‘but most people just die when their time is up. A few people are special. Their death is almost certain but they can, in some circumstances, be saved.’
Sadie scowled. ‘I don’t get it.’ She was like a robin, gaze flitting around the room, looking for a way out, perhaps. Her hand pulled at the metal cuff on her wrist, which had already rubbed a sore patch on the skin, despite the padding of an old sock.
Jack pulled her feet up on the other sofa. The November wind was finding ways through the thin carpet, stretched over gaps between the boards. Each winter was harder to deal with.
‘Touch your pulse, like this,’ Jack said, pressing her wrist with a finger. ‘What does it feel like?’
Sadie put her plate down and curled up into a ball, her knees tight against her chest. But her fingers pressed her wrist, moving, looking for a pulse.
‘It’s really slow.’ The girl’s face was surprised.
‘Your body temperature’s lower, too. Feel my hand.’ She stretched her arm within reach of the teenager.
Sadie frowned, but reached out her fingers to touch Jack’s skin lightly for a second, then withdrew. ‘You’re cold.’
‘So are you. Your body temperature has dropped about two degrees. Mine is even lower.’
Sadie felt her other wrist. ‘So, something’s wrong with me. Why aren’t I in hospital? They must have medicines …’
‘Not for what’s wrong with you. You need to be inside the sigils.’
‘What?’
Jack leaned forward and caught the edge of the old carpet. Pulling it back she revealed the arc of symbols burned into the old wooden boards. Maggie had done it with a soldering iron when Jack was a child. ‘There’s a circle on the floor and another up there.’
The girl looked up, squinting to make out the cream symbols painted on the yellowing white of the ceiling. ‘So these are what … magical? You believe they are some sort of … supernatural cure?’ She jingled the manacle on her wrist, the chain reaching through a hole in the centre of the carpet. Her voice was sceptical. ‘O … K.’
Jack stroked the dog’s head. ‘You passed out between the priest hole and the middle of the circle, don’t you remember? Even a few seconds and your heart slows down. We had to draw the sigils all over your body just to keep you alive. We call it “borrowed time”.’
Sadie pulled the jumper from around her neck, squinting inside the T-shirt underneath. ‘What … ? Who drew all over me?’
‘Maggie did. She’s the person who really saved you. She knows all about this stuff.’
Sadie pulled her clothes back around her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘So, why?’
Jack rolled dog hair off her hands and onto the floor. ‘People like you and me, saved from death, we’re valuable. We are worth thousands to the right dealer.’
The girl’s face paled and she froze, hands tight on the blanket. ‘Dealer? Like … selling me?’
Jack shook her head. ‘Don’t be an idiot. Roisin – you don’t remember her, but she was here when you were really bad, she helped look after you – Roisin
‘Dead. Defunct. Expired.’ She lifted the plate of toast over to Sadie. ‘If you drink all the potion you won’t be sick when you eat.’
The girl sipped the drink, her nose wrinkled and her eyes shut.
‘That’s disgusting.’ She put the empty glass down and balanced the plate on her lap. ‘You can’t have been dead.’
Jack hesitated, trying to find the words to explain it to Sadie. ‘I was destined to die nearly twenty years ago. Maggie saved me using this special treatment. The same treatment we are giving you.’
‘What do you mean, destined?’ The girl was looking around the room, her gaze returning again and again to the shackle on the floor where the chain was anchored.
Jack picked a couple of dog hairs off her buttery toast and took a bite while she tried to find the words to explain. ‘I don’t completely understand it,’ she said, ‘but most people just die when their time is up. A few people are special. Their death is almost certain but they can, in some circumstances, be saved.’
Sadie scowled. ‘I don’t get it.’ She was like a robin, gaze flitting around the room, looking for a way out, perhaps. Her hand pulled at the metal cuff on her wrist, which had already rubbed a sore patch on the skin, despite the padding of an old sock.
Jack pulled her feet up on the other sofa. The November wind was finding ways through the thin carpet, stretched over gaps between the boards. Each winter was harder to deal with.
‘Touch your pulse, like this,’ Jack said, pressing her wrist with a finger. ‘What does it feel like?’
Sadie put her plate down and curled up into a ball, her knees tight against her chest. But her fingers pressed her wrist, moving, looking for a pulse.
‘It’s really slow.’ The girl’s face was surprised.
‘Your body temperature’s lower, too. Feel my hand.’ She stretched her arm within reach of the teenager.
Sadie frowned, but reached out her fingers to touch Jack’s skin lightly for a second, then withdrew. ‘You’re cold.’
‘So are you. Your body temperature has dropped about two degrees. Mine is even lower.’
Sadie felt her other wrist. ‘So, something’s wrong with me. Why aren’t I in hospital? They must have medicines …’
‘Not for what’s wrong with you. You need to be inside the sigils.’
‘What?’
Jack leaned forward and caught the edge of the old carpet. Pulling it back she revealed the arc of symbols burned into the old wooden boards. Maggie had done it with a soldering iron when Jack was a child. ‘There’s a circle on the floor and another up there.’
The girl looked up, squinting to make out the cream symbols painted on the yellowing white of the ceiling. ‘So these are what … magical? You believe they are some sort of … supernatural cure?’ She jingled the manacle on her wrist, the chain reaching through a hole in the centre of the carpet. Her voice was sceptical. ‘O … K.’
Jack stroked the dog’s head. ‘You passed out between the priest hole and the middle of the circle, don’t you remember? Even a few seconds and your heart slows down. We had to draw the sigils all over your body just to keep you alive. We call it “borrowed time”.’
Sadie pulled the jumper from around her neck, squinting inside the T-shirt underneath. ‘What … ? Who drew all over me?’
‘Maggie did. She’s the person who really saved you. She knows all about this stuff.’
Sadie pulled her clothes back around her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘So, why?’
Jack rolled dog hair off her hands and onto the floor. ‘People like you and me, saved from death, we’re valuable. We are worth thousands to the right dealer.’
The girl’s face paled and she froze, hands tight on the blanket. ‘Dealer? Like … selling me?’
Jack shook her head. ‘Don’t be an idiot. Roisin – you don’t remember her, but she was here when you were really bad, she helped look after you – Roisin
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