Chapter Sixty-Six
Lilith
“Asher?”
Aunt Jacqueline’s voice startled Lilith awake from where she lay against him. Sunlight streamed in through the window, nearly
blinding her.
“Asher, why on earth were you sleeping on the couch?” Aunt Jacqueline asked.
Lilith sat up and looked back at him, her strength restored.
Asher frowned, his brow furrowed as he examined the room around him.
“That’s my fault,” Lilith said quickly. “I was too—”
“I don’t remember.” Asher blinked and sat up, accidentally upsetting Lilith’s balance, so she had to catch herself to keep
from rolling off the couch.
She stared up at him in horror.
Had she disappeared already?
Had Jacinda failed?
“Asher,” Lilith whispered.
He continued to look around the room in utter confusion.
“Asher,” she said again, louder this time, her voice pricked with panic. “Asher, you were with me. With Lilith.”
He didn’t respond. He frowned once more and turned away like she wasn’t there.
As if she’d ceased to exist.
Her heart clattered in her chest, a rapid-fire beat she couldn’t control. “Asher! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” Her voice
cracked.
He continued toward his aunt, rubbing a hand over the top of his bald head in a way that would be impossibly sexy if this
wasn’t so terrifying.
“Asher,” Lilith called. “Asher!”
He walked away, not turning back once. Aunt Jacqueline hovered in the room, her brow pursed like she was trying to find something
before she, too, turned away.
“Aunt Jacqueline,” Lilith cried. “Please, Asher! Anyone!”
The birthmark on her arm prickled. Not with the usual warmth, but with a chill.
An insistent pressure slid against her shin, and she looked down to see Dragon curling his body around her legs. Tears pricked
her eyes.
At least she still had him.
She went to her bedroom, where the door stood open. Her suitcase was gone, the open closet empty, devoid of the clothes that
had been hanging there the day before.
She paused outside the bathroom before entering, knowing what she would see.
And hating that she still clung to hope that her suspicions wouldn’t be true.
She passed the threshold and—without turning the lights on—gazed at the mirror.
A sob tore from her throat.
The mirror offered nothing back. Not an outline of her body, not a glint of her eyes.
Nothing.
The nightmare had become her reality.
Bay leaves.
The idea hit Lilith’s mind like lightning. She rushed to the kitchen to gather more bay leaves to burn, but her fingers could
not grip the cupboard door to open it. Her fingers couldn’t grip anything for that matter.
She could not leave the house until Asher left for work later that morning, then deftly slid past him when he opened the door.
Her rental car was gone, as were the tracks in the gravel from when she’d driven in.
Erased.
Like her.
She rushed to the manor, hoping she might be able to somehow enter the hidden room with the grimoire. Perhaps because the
book was of the earth as she was, she might be able to hold it.
Except the door to the manor was closed, locked tight with no way for Lilith to enter. Defeated, she sank to the ground with
a sob.
A cold wet nose nudged her hand, drawing her back from her pity party. She looked up, and Dragon gave a little chirp, the
way he did when he wanted her to follow him.
“There’s nothing more to do,” Lilith said miserably.
He trotted down the steps and onto the path leading to the forest. Resigned, Lilith pushed to her feet and trudged after him.
This time, the familiar scent of honeysuckle did not bolster her spirits. Now it was merely a reminder that she was of the
earth, and subject to its rules. That she was losing despite having worked so hard to win.
She ducked into the honeysuckle clearing.
Unable to help herself, she drew in a lungful of perfumed air.
A thread of strength tightened through her.
Sunlight spilled on her skin with golden strength, bolstering her spirits with a fledgling hope that maybe Jacinda might have found a way to save Sybil.
Dragon sniffed around the clearing, pawing here and there, as if seeking some kind of cure-all for Lilith. He returned to
her periodically, purring as he pressed his body to hers, green eyes wider than she’d ever seen.
As if he worried about losing her.
Around midday, Dragon sat up and looked about abruptly. All at once, his body sagged, no longer alert, and he turned to the
edge of the clearing, walking away.
“Dragon?”
His right ear pricked and he partially turned back.
Hope whispered around her. “You can hear me? Dragon!”
He turned and loped slowly away.
“Dragon…” Her voice broke as she watched the little animal stride toward the edge of the clearing.
Her final connection to the earth—to life—had snapped.
The chill of Lilith’s birthmark was like ice on her skin.
Jacinda had been too late. The world had gone on without her.
Lilith Legare had ceased to exist.