Cassandra carefully dabbed at the forehead of a young man affected by the plague, over half of Knocker's Hole had been afflicted and the red-haired witch wasn't sure if she and Jenkins could put a stop to it before it claimed yet more innocent lives. Suddenly one of the newest to fall ill began to cough violently so she quickly helped him to sit him up.

"It's okay, you'll be alright, John."

John Kent, the younger brother of Christopher Kent – Knocker's Hole's head night watchman – had started showing signs the day before and things had quickly gone from bad to worse for him. John usually had a slight tan to his rippling body but the plague had sent his skin a sickly white, poor man was covered over in cold sweat and looked to be on Death's door. The younger Kent brother weakly smiled up at her before his eyes slipped closed again and pulled him back to that feverish dozing.

"Miss Cillian!" Called Jenkins from the other section of the warehouse they'd been using to store the dead, the sudden noise actually made her jump.

Cassandra tucked the scratchy blanket up around John to help keep him warm and then went to her beloved wolf side. She found him crouched down beside one of the recently deceased, just her face uncovered. Jenkins and Cassandra had spent most of their time trying to find some kind of magical solution but had any luck... not yet.

"What is it, Galahad?" She asked softly.

"Look at this."

Jenkins gestured to the dead woman's lips and the cracking around them, deep and jagged, under bone-white flesh the blood vessel had turned a muddy black; Cassandra just hopped that the young woman hadn't suffered too long.

"What am I looking at?" Cassandra bent down just a little to peer over Jenkins' shoulder.

"Is it me or do her lips look more affected than the rest of her body?"

"Yes." She had to admit. "But we already ruled out the food and water, it's connected to the rest of Salem. It can't be something they ingested or all of the town would be sick."

There was a pause and then Jenkins' brow furrowed.

"Oh, I'm an idiot!"

Still crouched down the wolf spun to face his witch, a look of realisation coated his green-hazel eyes.

"It's not the water, it's the well they're drawing it from."

Galahad shot to his feet, in an instant he towered the redhead and she nearly swooned, there was something powerful about his hight, Jenkins had so much strength in his tall stature but every ounce of it served her. Sometimes she felt as though Galahad put her on a pedestal and even though that made her feel special but she doubted she'd ever shake the feeling that she didn't deserve it.

"How many wells are there in Knocker's Hole?"

"Just the one... and the first victim was found next to the well."

"That's why it's contained, Oh I've been an idiot! We need to cover up that well, send Christopher to get Magistrate Hale would you?"

"Of course." She nodded.

Within the hour the Knocker's Hole well had been covered over and fresh water had started to be brought in from the next well over. It wouldn't cure the sick but it would certainly stop anyone else getting infected. Unfortunately for Jenkins his witch and their friends discovering the source of Salem's plague had only made the town even more determined to find and kill the witch. Theophil wouldn't rest until someone had swung, that man was all black on the inside.

XXXX

In the dead of night Cassandra and her strong white wolf found themselves stood by the covered over well in the middle of Knocker's Hole, she he'd a small ball of floating white light in her hand as she peered at the dark stones for marks At such an early hour no one was around, everyone was tucked up in their beds.

"I can't see any sort of markings." Said Cassandra with her beautiful blue eyes still on the well's grey stones. She sighed. "I was sure that was how she'd done it."

The red haired witch had been studying curses and hexes ever since the plague had begun – where Jenkins got all those books from she didn't ask – and most of them required symbols to be carved into the cursed object. Daylight would have made things much easier but they couldn't risk that, especially with every person in Salem out for witch blood.

"Morgan wouldn't have left any obvious trace of witchcraft." Jenkins told her as he glanced around to make sure they were still alone.

"But there has to be some kind of symbol, maybe it's on the inside of the well?" Cassandra mused aloud. "Galahad, you're taller and stronger so you'll be able to see better."

"No, you just don't want to hang upside down in a cursed well." He smirked.

"Guilty." Deadpanned Cassandra which earned her a low rumbled mmm , but he didn't complain. "Please?"

Still he said nothing just pulled off his dark coat and handed it to the woman he loved once she'd put out the ball of light in her hand, after a quick look to the damp almost grimy layer of dirt at the very to of the well Jenkins took off his white shirt as well. Cassandra would have been lying if she said she'd not taken in that particular view with glee. It almost amazed Cassandra when she saw him support himself almost competently upside down in the well, he had the body of an older gentleman but he had the strength of ten men and the grace of a wolf.

Everything went quiet after the Jenkins summoned his own ball of white light into his hand, the only noise being the occasional grunt as his shuffled to get a look at another part of the grey well. Suddenly from the corner of her cerulean orbs Cassandra saw fire, a torch held by one of Knocker's Hole's night watchmen. There she was stood in the middle of the street at two o'clock in the morning holding the clothes of a man who was not her husband and who was also upside down in a well holding a ball of light. It looked suspicious to say the very least. Panic shot up the witch's spine and radiated through her almost like blood in it's veins, they couldn't explain why they were there without some reference to magic. Before she knew what she was doing Cassandra had thrown the clothing at Jenkins' legs only to knock him off balance and send him down to the bottom of the well. Holy shit, was the last thing she heard of him before the inevitable splash; thankfully the white light went out.

"Miss Cillian? What are ya doin' out 'ere in the middle of the night?" Asked George, the night watchman.

George was fairly new to the watchman job and had a good heart, also he wasn't too bright.

"Oh, em, I was just waiting for Doctor Jenkins." She said a little too quickly and glanced around, they weren't too far from the Marsden warehouse. "We tend to the sick during the night as well as the day, another poor soul has just died and I... I couldn't see that again. The doctor sent me out here to get some fresh air and wait for him while he moves the body."

"Not another one, people are droppin' like flies around 'ere. It's cold out tonight, Miss Cillian, ya should be inside all warm."

"It's alright, George, really. I can wait for the doctor to walk me home."

"I could wait with ya, if ya like?" He raised the flaming torch a little higher as he spoke.

Cassandra appreciated George's kind heart but there and then she needed him to just continue his rounds and leave her alone, Jenkins wasn't going to be happy when she got him out of that well.

"Oh, that's alright, George, you've got work to be doing."

"Nah, no problem, Miss Cillian. Come on, the doc won't mind walking back on his own. It's late and ya should be in bed, young lady like you shouldn't be refused her beauty sleep."

The young man – only a year or so older than Cassandra herself – clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer, he wanted to do his gentlemanly duty and the witch knew her only real choice was to let him; I'll just have to come straight back.

"Alright, thank you, George."

The sandy haired man held out his arm for Cassandra to loop with his and she did with a smile. As they walked away she glanced over her shoulder to see the faint light reappear in the well bottom. Oh, he's really not going to be happy.