Free Sound of the Heart by Genevieve Graham Page B

at having been disturbed.
    “Aye. It is that. We’ll keep goin’. Maybe it’ll get better.”
    Aidan swallowed. “Or maybe it’ll get worse.”
    Some of the tall stone buildings, for Dougal couldn’t make himself see them as houses, leaned in a gentle slant over the road, looking precariously down as if curious. Their brickwork appeared to be dangerously loose, and chunks were missing here and there, leaving gaping black holes like missing teeth in their place. Children ran screaming through the street, their faces smeared with filth, shouting curses Dougal had never even considered using. And he wasn’t usually particular about his wording.
    A woman in a faded red gown, barely holding its shape over wide, bouncing hoops, spotted them and approached Dougal as if she knew him. She was probably young, he thought, but time had had its way with her, carving her down so she was thin as a branch from a silver birch tree, with skin almost the same hue as the bark. She wore a yellowed white wig and her lips were painted tomato red.
    Aidan took a step back when she came close. “What’s wrong wi’ her?” he whispered, his expression horrified.
    “Wrong?”
    “Her face! What’s wrong wi’ her skin an’ all?”
    “I dinna ken,” Dougal said. He’d never seen a woman dressed this way and it felt almost intimidating, the way she walked closer. What was it about her that spooked him? He stared openly, glued to her features by some grotesque fascination. She didn’t seem to mind. In the moment before she touched his sleeve, he realised what it was and stepped away. Her eyes. Her eyes, outlined in thick black, were dead. He’d never seen dead eyes on a living woman. They were horrible to see.
    She misread his expression. Instead of turning away, she drew closer, smiling conspiratorially. “Care for a little fun, my lad?” she purred.
    Dougal was used to people with bad teeth, but this woman didn’t have that problem. She had no teeth at all. He’d seen that with old women, but not one this young. It seemed to have affected her cheeks and chin. They rolled inward, making those dead eyes seem to pop out even more. She ran a long, pink tongue over her lips and flared her pinched nostrils as she looked him over appreciatively.
    “Are you a big lad, then?” She studied Dougal from his head to his waist, taking in the lines and curves of his body. Her eyes started to show a little life, widening under fluttering lashes. “I imagine so, judging by those thumbs of yours.”
    Dougal blinked. He had no idea what she—Oh. Now he did. He stepped back again, shocked. He started to object, but she had already moved on to Aidan. Her fingers combed through his fair but filthy hair, which had grown long enough to reach just past his shoulders. The blond strands were heavy and dark with a need for soap. Aidan stared furiously at the ground, trying to ignore the woman’s touch.
    She sounded pleased. “And what have we here? I’ve not had a young man in a long,
long
time.” She snorted, then looked skyward for a moment, remembering something. When she looked back at Aidan, her eyes were a bit unfocused. “They say I’m a good teacher.”
    “Go away,” Aidan hissed. “I dinna need yer teachin’.”
    “Oh no?” the woman replied with a chortle. “You know how it all works, do you? Well, why don’t you just come along then and show me.”
    “Go. Away.”
    Dougal took the woman’s wrist gently between his thumb and forefinger and slid it off Aidan’s bowed head. She turned her attention back to Dougal.
    “Leave the lad,” he said. “He’s asked ye twice.”
    “And you, sir?”
    “I am in search of a meal an’ a bed. Jus’ for me an’ the boy.”
    Her eyebrows shot up and Dougal noticed they had been entirely shaved off. Only a thin pencil line marked her expression of surprise. “Oh? It’s like that? Well! I wouldn’t have taken you for the likes of that, but . . .”
    “No,” Dougal growled, his face