Chapter Forty-Nine
Lilith
Lilith stared at her phone in horror, reading Essie’s message again.
Who is this?
Had she already been erased from Essie’s memory? A lifetime of friendship dissolving the way Lilith’s pictures had on her
phone?
It’s Lilith.
Three dots appeared.
Lilith held her breath, tethered to the gray bubble of a forming message. Almost too afraid to see Essie’s reply.
Finally, it came.
OMG, where have you been? My phone deleted your number, and I haven’t been able to contact you.
Another message immediately followed.
What is happening? Why are you scared?
A series of texts immediately followed, rapid-fire.
Is it Mr. Darcy?
You send me his picture. I’ll have it to Interpol before you can say cretin.
Talk to me. Tell me what is going on this instant.
Answer me right now because you’re totally freaking me out.
Lilith choked on a shuddering breath at the normalcy of Essie’s reply. Still the same Essie.
The same Essie who had not forgotten Lilith.
It’s not Mr. Darcy—it’s not a person, but a… Lilith hesitated then continued typing. How much time do you have?
She imagined Essie’s busy life. Play dates, meetings and dinner parties with the partners of her firm, keeping the household
running while Eugene worked late hours at the police central precinct on Bull Street.
What time was it in Georgia anyway?
Before Lilith could google it, Essie had already replied.
I always have time for you.
And she did.
Lilith’s fingers tapped over the screen. This is going to sound absolutely insane.
With my life, insane is my specialty. Hit me with what you’ve got.
Lilith’s smile was a flash on her lips before fading as she did exactly as Essie asked and hit her with everything—the manor, the ghostly figures repeating that one day in history over and over, the grimoire, the spells, the way she was
fading from reality.
Check your photos. Lilith texted at the end. The ones with me are disappearing.
There was a long pause and Essie replied back.
WTF? Lil…
Lilith choked back a sob. I know.
Three dots appeared and disappeared, then appeared and disappeared. The phone buzzed in Lilith’s hand and the screen lit up
with a picture of Essie and Amara, faces pressed cheek to cheek as they grinned at the camera. A picture from a normal day
getting Byrd’s cookies at City Market.
Lilith slid her thumb over the screen to answer the call.
“Essie?”
“You still sound the same, thank God. How the hell did you get wrapped up in this?”
Lilith gave a shaky sigh. “It’s the birthmark, this whole linking spell.”
“This is otherworldly insane, Lil.”
“Literally.” Lilith laughed as tears burned in her eyes.
“Look, you are still alive. You are still existing. And that means you can do whatever necessary to save Sybil.”
“But what if I can’t?” Lilith whispered, putting a voice to the fear tearing at her insides.
“You’ve always been a fighter,” Essie replied in a firm tone. “Like the time when we were kids and that boy with his stupid
bowl haircut…”
“The one that shoved you,” Lilith finished for her, knowing this story like the back of her hand.
“Yes! That punk shoved me on the ground. You shoved him right back, and then you said…you…you said…” Her voice faltered.
An icy wash of dread poured over Lilith.
“Oh God,” Essie said breathlessly. “I can’t remember now…”
Lilith pressed the phone to her face, her throat too tight to speak.
“Lilith.” This was Essie’s mom voice. The one she used when Amara tried to run out in the street. The one she used when she
turned around once and didn’t see Amara at her side at City Market. The one she used when love scared her so deeply, it brought
out a rage of fear.
“Lilith, don’t you dare let me forget you, do you hear?” There was a catch to Essie’s voice. “You have been the constant in
my life, the one who was there for the new kid on the block living with her nana because her parents had just been killed.
You’ve been there ever since. When I was in sixth grade and swore I’d marry Gill, and he broke up with me the next day. When
I got my period before you and thought I was dying. When I graduated from college and was so happy I drank a handle of vodka
to celebrate and puked my guts out. You held one of my legs when Amara was born because that epidural made me forget the lower
half of my body, and Eugene was chasing down some drunk guy through Chippewa Square.”
She pulled in a hard breath. “I can’t tell a story in my life without you being in it. You are stitched into the very fabric of my existence. I can’t lose you.” Her voice broke. “I love you, Lil.”
Lilith’s face stretched with the force of her pain, hot tears running silently down her face. “I love you too, Ess.”
Lilith didn’t know when she fell asleep, but the chime of her alarm went off way too early at 4:00 a.m. Early enough to return
to the manor before the household from the seventeenth century could wake.
She looked at the world clock on her phone, confirming it was 11:00 p.m. in Savannah. Essie would still be awake, likely waiting
for Eugene to get off work, so she could keep him company while he ate his warmed-up dinner.
Lilith’s phone was practically a new device, all the text messages gone, hardly any photos remaining. But she’d had Essie’s
number memorized for well over a decade and tapped out a quick message.
Thanks for talking to me last night.
Dots danced to the left of the screen as Essie replied right away.
But when the message came through, a frisson of fear tightened through Lilith.
Who is this?
Lilith tightened her grip on her phone and replied: Lilith. Did my number delete itself again?
Her phone buzzed with a reply, and Lilith’s heart slithered down to her toes.
Sorry, hon. Wrong number.
A chasm ripped open in her chest. But there was no time for tears. No time for grief. She had a job to do.
Grabbing a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, Lilith dressed hastily and stopped in the kitchen to grab a bottle of cinnamon
for amplification, some more bay leaves, and a few cans of cat food.
She would fight for Sybil’s life, for her own existence, and for all the women who came before her.
And she would fight for Essie.
There would be no leaving the manor until she had answers.