Prologue

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I'm being dragged backwards, across muddy ground. Through the huddle of stinking bodies towering over me, I see the stars over London. The noise. Can't think. Like a pack of animals. Shrieking, snorting, braying animals. Cackling and curses.

I've been here before.

Strong arms drag me up. Thick chains wrapping around me, pinching my shivering flesh. Kind of chains you lock up an airBike with. Can't breathe. Hand squeezing my throat. Something yanks my hair back, forcing me to meet the gaze of a man.

Witch! Then, he spits at me. Feel it on my cheek.

More faces loom out of the riverside mist. Contorted with hate. Masks. Taking turns to abuse me.

A woman holds up a limp child, hardly more than a baby, dark sunken eyes and yellowing skin.

Child killer! Glitch witch! Plague witch!

The shouts come from all around, amid a low rumbling jeer. I notice the smell of street food too. The smell of eels. Roasting chestnuts.

Then another man comes forward, face covered up, wrapped in a scarf. And he's pouring a jerry can of gasoline over me. Soaking my clothes. My heart is pounding fit to burst open my throat. I'm retching. Coughing. Whimpering and begging, incoherently.

I feel the liquid burn my eyes and throat as he pours it on my face. And they are chanting now.

Witch! Witch! Witch!

And I begin to sob. Fat tears roll down my face. I'm innocent!

But then another feeling bubbles up from deep inside. a feeling or a memory, a storm of memories.

I have been here before, this has happened to me before, ten thousand times.

And when the flames start, I fancy that I can see myself in the crowd, watching.

And I can feel my tears evaporate as the heat rises up from the flames at my feet.


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