Echoes From the Mist by Blayne Cooper

shooting from it and oozed an unhealthy discharge. Faylinn sighed. Infected. But more troubling still, was a black and purple bruise that covered Bridget’s entire abdomen. She laid a hand atop the mottled, swollen, flesh, finding it hot to the touch. Her heart sank. Even Faylinn knew enough to know Bridget was bleeding inside . A dark rage grabbed hold of her and shook her to the core. I should have run you through myself, Cyril, you bastard!
    Faylinn felt more tears coming and she bit her lip to ward off their flow.
    Will’s tone softened and he felt a stab of pity for this slip of a girl in his son’s old clothes. "Take heart, Faylinn. She’s not dead yet." At least, not yet. "She looks like a strong one. She was heavy as a sow."
    Faylinn blinked at Will’s choice of words but chose not to comment. Wordlessly, she re-wrapped the bandages, putting the knot on top this time so Bridget wouldn’t be lying on it. She handed Will back what she suspected was a horse blanket and maneuvered the quilt until Bridget was safely underneath. "How could someone do this to you?" She hadn’t realized she’d said the words out loud until Will answered her.
    "So she would confess to bein’ a witch, of course," he supplied conversationally. "Those cuts on her chest and shoulders were no accident. As for the scratches, who knows." He drew his thick eyebrows together in contemplation. "Looks like she fought with a tree or a bobcat."
    "Or a cliff." Her voice was the barest of whispers as she swept a tangle of dark hair off Bridget’s forehead. She let her fingers linger in the soft but dirty hair. How could you have jumped? How could you have lived? How could I have heard your sweet words inside me own head, as though I was saying them? Maybe I’m going mad.
    Will stepped away from the bed, feeling very much like he was intruding upon a private moment between the women. "My wife set the arm as best she could. She’s got a talent for doctoring. My Katie gave her a good dose of sleeping tonic for the pain. We couldn’t set the arm ‘till she was asleep. She kept fighting us." He studied his shoes. "I’m sorry I threw you out. I know you didn’t mean to—"
    "I’m sorry I got sick. I—I’ve been under a lot of stress this past week. The sight and smell…."
    Will squared his shoulders. "I heard some of what happened on Cobb Island in town yesterday morning as I was passing through."
    Faylinn looked at him frankly. "I’m sure it was more than enough."
    "It was. We don’t believe in witches in this house." The corner of his mouth curved upward. "Or barn."
    She managed a tiny smile.
    He leaned against the wall by the bed. "She’s already got a fever."
    "I know. I’ll stay with her. We won’t be much trouble. And we’ll leave as soon as we can. In my dress I have a bracelet—"
    Will snorted loudly. "We don’t want your baubles or filthy slave-trader money."
    Afraid she’d offended him, Faylinn began a rambling apology that was stopped abruptly when he asked, "Can you read?"
    She nodded slowly, confused. "Yes, of cour— " Her cheeks tinted. "Yes, I can."
    Her slip of the tongue hadn’t gone unnoticed. But Will decided it meant far less than the fact that the young woman was kind enough to try to cover it up. "Then we’ll take payment in the form of you reading the Bible to us." He looked a little embarrassed, but pressed on. "Is it a deal?"
    "Absolutely." She regarded him curiously. "I wish I could do more."
    He kicked at the floor awkwardly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "That will make Katie happy. So it’s enough." When he glanced up, Will was surprised to be looking into green eyes swimming with tears.
    In that simple gesture, Faylinn Cobb had just witnessed more love for one spouse by the other than all her years prior. "Whenever you want me to read, just ask. No matter what it is. No matter when."
    "The Bible will be enough. We’re not Puritans, mind you, but Katie, at least, is still a good