She's been sitting too close to the fire. Her face is hot and red and so are her hands, and when she looks at them they shimmer with flames; the fire's gotten inside her somehow and is spreading there, licking at her chin and cheeks, catching in her hair.

They never actually burned witches in this country, Gran says, that was Europe. Why isn't she doing something about the fire, instead of talking history? Liz tries to ask her, but when she opens her mouth the fire curls into it and chokes her off.


(A whimper, just audible from the front room.)