Chapter Thirteen
Lilith
Lilith followed Asher down a worn footpath in the grass, grateful to be in the sunshine after being locked within a plane
for hours and then a car for a couple more. “What did your aunt mean when she said she was waiting to meet me?”
Asher shrugged. “She’s eager to have a guest at her bed and breakfast. Business never really resumed after the pandemic.”
He paused and regarded Lilith, his expression inscrutable. “My aunt is rather aged, as you can see. What she says doesn’t
always make sense, so I wouldn’t think on it too heavily.”
Other questions crowded Lilith’s tongue, but were immediately forgotten as the dilapidated manor from the website came into
view.
The world went still. Her breath froze in her lungs and her eyes locked on Brackenmere Manor. Its windows were dulled by dust
and time, several broken like jagged teeth against a stained exterior tangled in ivy.
The manor had clearly suffered at least another decade or so of deterioration since the pictures on the website were taken.
Her birthmark tingled beneath her long-sleeved shirt.
A brilliant light flared and faded, revealing the manor transformed to the way Lilith had seen it in her vision in Savannah.
Gone were the layers of grime and abuse. The house stood upright once more, windows gleaming, exterior clean and creamy white
in the sun. The bushes were landscaped to identical wide domes and the clean fragrance of rosemary wafted from an unseen garden.
She blinked and the image cleared, returning to the abandoned manor house.
Her heart lurched.
What had she just seen?
“You all right?”
Asher’s voice broke through her shock.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
He lifted a brow and regarded the house before looking back at her. “What did you see?”
“I thought I saw a flash of light.” She shook her head, not about to get into what she’d actually seen.
He withdrew an old-fashioned skeleton key and slid it into the ancient lock. The door clicked and groaned open, revealing
the Great Hall.
Light struggled in through the windows, illuminating a long table splitting the center of the capacious room. Swords were
crossed in X formations on the wood-paneled walls, and curtains hung from the tall windows, their color obscured by shadows.
Dust sifted over the stone floors, fine as baker’s flour, and she vividly recalled when it had been strewn with fresh rushes,
mixed with lavender and meadowsweet.
A voice echoed through the room, foreign and familiar at once, muffled as if underwater.
The clatter of a pan hitting the floor sounded distantly, followed by a glass breaking.
Lilith startled and gave an anxious, self-deprecating smile as she glanced at Asher to see his reaction to the sudden sound.
He arched that same eyebrow at her, making her feel as weird as she always feared she was.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, this is the manor.”
Lilith stepped hesitantly forward. “Can I explore a little?”
He thrust his hands into his pockets and gave a little shrug. “Just not the top floor or the attic.”
“Why not?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he hesitated for more than a beat. “They’re not safe.”
His delayed reply nudged at Lilith’s awareness. He was lying.
Still, it was his house and she’d play by his rules.
She explored the downstairs area, going first to the marble hearth carved with a pair of Greek goddesses on either side, one
holding a scroll, the other with her head lifted in pride. Exactly like the vision she’d had in Savannah. Heat blossomed in
the crook of her arm near her birthmark.
Her gut told her this manor held the key to what she needed.
Asher followed a foot behind her, studying her every move. Unsettled by his apparent distrust and the idea of being so thoroughly
micromanaged, she kept her hands tucked behind her back.
The kitchen had an island with a blue flecked Formica countertop, a jarring difference from the stone hearth with an ancient
iron crane-looking apparatus on the side. She could envision a massive pot hanging from its hook.
She blinked. Actually, she truly could see the outline of a pot hanging from the hook, the rich aroma of stew flavoring the air.
She breathed in the savory scent. “Do you smell that?”
He frowned. “Smell what?”
Lilith cringed. He must think she was a few peas short of a casserole. “Nothing.”
Old wooden cabinets lined the wall, their scalloped edges dating them to a time decades before. An avocado-colored toaster
sat in the corner, as if it’d been used recently and not returned.
“Does anyone live here?” Lilith asked.
“Of course not,” Asher said abruptly.
“They did,” she countered.
“Not during the time of your ancestor.” The retort was clearly British for “not your business.”
Lilith wandered into the Great Hall once more, her vision wavering. The figure of a woman in a pale green dress swept into
the room, appearing as gauzy and transparent as cobwebs swirling lazily in an unseen breeze.
Her long hair was unbound, but unmistakable, even in her translucent state. Red-gold hair. Like the woman in the dream. The
one who continued to beg Lilith for help.
Lilith’s birthmark blazed with sudden heat, making her hiss in surprise.
The woman spun around, revealing a face Lilith recognized immediately.
The air shifted, becoming heavy in Lilith’s chest, filling her with unspeakable terror.
A thundering bang reverberated from the front door.
Boom, boom, boom!
Lilith jumped at the sound, dread turning her veins to ice.
The young woman’s eyes locked on Lilith’s, as if they could see one another from a place that blurred between two worlds.
Nausea surged, spiraling through Lilith with the same awful pull as her dream. Her nightmare.
And everything went black.