Chapter 6Idiot.
Images of the night before, like a series of postcards, flashed through Lyne’s mind in the instant after her alarm went off: everyone at the pub looking at her as if she was contaminated because she knew all the words of the manuscript, her clumsy attempts at deflection, Professor Meadwell reiterating it was all silly superstition, yet the others growing more superstitious with every pint, until they believed they were cursed for life and it was all her doing.
So much for the scientific method.
She’d been more than tipsy by then, enough to deflect the guys, anyway, with a bit of self-deprecation and a lot of flirting. Back home, she’d downed two glasses of water and slept off the worst of it. Except for one thing.
She leapt out of bed and attacked her mouth with her too
