Chapter Sixty-One
Lilith
Lilith stepped closer to the two women dressed in old-fashioned clothing. “Jacinda?”
The young woman nodded. “And this is Kat, a fellow daughter of the earth. I could not perform the spell alone.”
A squirrel sat on the woman’s shoulder, almost lost in the riot of red curls. “It worked.” She cast an incredulous look at
Jacinda. “The linking spell actually worked.”
“And is as yet incomplete.” Jacinda looked pointedly at Lilith, old eyes in a young face. A familiar bird perched on a tree
behind her, those glittering black eyes fixed like a predator. “Did you find who spoke against Sybil?”
Lilith nodded. The world around her spun, time tugging at her like poorly fitted clothing. “Anne.”
Jacinda rocked back on her heels. “Anne?” She shook her head. “Were it not for Sybil’s generosity, Anne’s family would have perished during the plague.” Her gaze searched the air, her head still shaking in a rhythm of disbelief. “How?”
“The magistrate,” Lilith replied. “Anne is pregnant.”
“That bastard,” Kat growled. “I’ve a mind to curse him so his—”
“He threatened Anne?” Jacinda asked, expression hard.
Lilith nodded. “The child is his. He refused to help her unless she betrayed Sybil. He implied she would lose her job once
they found out she was pregnant. I…I don’t think she had a choice.”
“Apparently people in the future are soft,” Kat said without sympathy. “There is always a choice.”
“Mayhap she did not consider Sybil’s mercy well enough.” Jacinda tapped her fingers to her lips. “Desperation can alter a
person’s reasoning.”
Unease twisted in Lilith’s gut. “Do you think knowing Anne denounced Sybil is enough? Will this mean you can save her?”
“The truth will lie in Anne’s response,” Jacinda replied solemnly.
“And how we manage the situation.” There was fight in Kat’s words, enough that Lilith hoped she could find a way to use the
information to save Sybil.
Jacinda looked at Lilith, her face softening with a look of apology. “Sybil’s fate, your fate, and every woman born between
me and your birth hangs in the balance.”
Lilith bit at the inside of her cheek. “That’s not very reassuring.”
Jacinda drew in a pained breath. “No. But I vow to do all that is possible. For Sybil. For you. For the legacy that will follow
you.”
Jacinda’s words cut deep. “What if…” Lilith swallowed. “What if I’m not worthy of this line?”
Jacinda tilted her head in quiet contemplation before replying, “That isn’t for you to decide. You were born into this line because the earth deemed it so. There is no question of your worth.”
“But I don’t want children.” The words were raw as they left Lilith’s throat, rendering her hollow with a fear she had not
dared voice.
That she was a failure as a woman for not wanting to have children, yet another way she did not fit into the world.
“I’ve been trying to be okay with accepting our legacy, but… I’ve never wanted children,” she offered meekly. “Not after how
my mother treated me.” Under the bandage, her palm throbbed in time with her pulse.
“Women are more than the children they bear.” Jacinda smiled softly, revealing how very young she truly was. “I am indebted
to you for what you have done for me.” She stepped closer to Lilith. “I give you the gift of choice. That you may decide to
pass on the legacy.” She swept her hands over Lilith’s face, down her neck and over her collarbones.
Warmth followed the motion and the tension eased from Lilith’s muscles, draining away beneath the graceful sweep of Jacinda’s
fingertips.
A patter of something wet sounded by Lilith’s feet. She glanced down to find the bandage stained bright red, blood dripping
from her hand.
“Should we see to that?” Kat asked.
Jacinda shook her head. “We’ve tarried for too long. Lilith must hasten back.”
A jolt of terror struck Lilith. “I don’t know how to go back.” The trickle of blood at her hand ran hot and steady now, pouring
from her as time slipped away.
Was this the cost of the spell?
“I might be able to offer aid,” Jacinda said. “You must trust me.”
Lilith gave a sardonic laugh. “As if I actually have a choice.”
Kat tsked. “There’s always a choice.”
Jacinda frowned at Lilith. “I’m sorry.”
“Just save Sybil.”
Jacinda nodded. “Close your eyes and let yourself fall back.”
Lilith closed her eyes imagining the library at Brackenmere Manor with Dragon at her side, cooing as he nuzzled her shins
for affection.
Hands closed over her shoulders, pressure followed by a shove, and she toppled backward.
“This might hurt,” Jacinda cautioned.
Before Lilith could ask what she meant, there was an explosion of pain. As if every atom in Lilith’s body was being sent in
the wrong direction.
As if she was being ripped apart.
A scream tore from her throat, her teeth loosening.
“Focus,” a voice hissed at her.
Lilith squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, fisting her hands, flexing her muscles. In her mind, she imagined her body like magnetized
balls, clinking together, forming a tight mass.
Keep it together.
Her body shuddered.
Keep it together.
She imagined herself ripping into pieces. Pink mist and bone fragments.
No.
Keep. It. Together.
Her limbs curled toward her torso. A fetal position. Desperate to stay intact.
There was a final wrench that threatened to shatter her. She clenched her teeth, a whimper sharp in the back of her throat.
This would be how she would die, shredded between two centuries, scattered across a landscape of time.
Ceasing to exist.