Page 38

Someone was shaking her.

“Atta, wake up.”

A gloved hand was on her cheek, the leather soft, the touch tender. Her eyes fluttered open, going wide when she saw the plague doctor mask hovering over her. She was in his lap, covered in grave dirt.

“Oh my god.” She scrambled off of Gold Stitch and into the muddy grass. “I’m so sorry.”

“Atta,” he said calmly, “what happened?” He stood and made to help her up.

She didn’t take his offered hand. “Nothing. I get migraines sometimes.”

“Migraines that cause you to faint?”

She scrubbed at her arm. “That part was new.”

“Give me the keys.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But what about the body? The samples?”

“Never mind that. Give me the keys.”

“No.” But she swayed on her feet and he jumped to steady her with an arm around her waist. When he pulled away, he had her keys in his hand.

“Hey!”

“Let’s go.”

“You forgot your damned lantern. You make a terrible criminal.” She scooped it up and startled when the flame turned blue, then leeched away from the wick, darting out of the lantern completely. Before she could even react, it dissipated like a spent sparkler over a different grave.

“What are you doing?” Gold Stitch groused as she jumped over one grave and then another to look at the one the flame had sent her to.Will-o-the-wisp, her traitorous mind whispered like the migraine-induced vision,Corpse Flame.

“This one has been fertilised too,” she called over her shoulder. “Come here.”

“We can deal with this later. You need to gethome.”

“Shut up.” She saw another coin glint in the light. Another hawthorn tree. She handed it to Gold Stitch, feeling a buzz in her veins.

“We need togo.”

“I see something.” She leaned in closer, finally giving up and getting on her hands and knees. Something else was peeking up out of the soil.

Stoic Gold Stitch was on his knees beside her in an instant. “My god. Is that?—”

“A mushroom.”

“I don’t claim to know a lot about Botany, but that isn’t likely on a fresh grave, is it?”

“Not one this fresh. I’m going to take it.”

His hand clamped down on her wrist as she reached for it. “Not without a mask and gloves you won’t. This Plague is spreading somehow and we can’t take risks.”

“Give me your gloves then.”

He contemplated for a moment, but eventually shucked off his gloves and handed them to her. They were too large and too difficult to work with. “I need the mycelium beneath it.”