Troubled by the Highlander by Rebecca Preston

Author:Rebecca Preston
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Time travel
Published: 2020-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 33

“Well," Connor said, breaking a long silence. They were riding their horses aimlessly back toward town, though she wasn't exactly looking forward to getting back. "At least we've got a bit more of an idea of what we're dealing with."

"But no way to fight it," Karen said heavily. "What if those creatures come back tonight? What are we going to do to keep the villagers safe?"

"Tell them to stay inside and bar their west-facing windows," Connor said with a grim shake of his head. "Especially the ones with pox. We ought to visit the sick on our way back."

It felt good to have something to do, at least. They rode up the hill to where Anne and Rhianne lived — both the girls were asleep, but they gave their mother the warning to keep the west windows shut. Karen was a little hesitant about explaining why, but Connor didn't flinch from explaining that they had a theory that a supernatural creature that rode the west wind had been responsible for the deaths of the young men a week earlier. Anne and Rhianne's mother listened wide-eyed, and before they'd even finished, she was bolting her western windows shut, shaking her head in dismay.

They visited Mary's house again, too — as before, Mary was refusing all visitors, but they passed the message on to Cameron and his mother. The boy, undaunted, brandished a butter knife and told them that if anything came for his sister, it would have him to deal with. They visited the more recently infected milkmaids, too, and the herdsmen who remained — which left only Rosemary and her son Malcolm. For that particular visit, Karen waited outside the fence, feeling strange. It seemed the villagers were clumping together more as they passed her, shooting suspicious glances over their shoulders at her. She sighed. She'd hoped that keeping to herself and staying out of the villagers' way would help them realize she wasn't any kind of threat… but it seemed that suspicions of her were only growing.

Was there any way to prove she wasn't a witch, she wondered as Connor headed back out to meet her? Could she publicly bathe in holy water, perhaps? Wear a silver cross around her neck to prove it didn't melt or bubble her skin? How did a person go about proving that they weren't a witch, anyway? Wasn't the whole point of witches that they were hard to spot? She sighed, leaving the thought alone. No use dwelling on something she couldn't change. Like her mother had always said — what other people thought of her was none of her business.

But it rapidly became her business when they reached the inn. It was late afternoon, and she could tell from the street that the inn was packed and busy — but there was something strange going on. Many of the patrons seemed to have congregated by the windows and were peering out at the street as though waiting for something to happen. She frowned, glancing up at Connor, who also looked nonplussed.

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