Page 10 of A Time of Witches

Every item in the shop lured Lilith closer, from the images of witches with dark hair wild and spilling over their pale shoulders to the silver moon trinkets in the curved glass of the display case.

Curiosity fed her excitement like a familiar drug, making her blood go hot and her breaths shallow.

Mama had called magic an obsession, one that had made Lilith responsible for Daddy’s death.

A knot too large to swallow ached in the back of her throat.

Shoving aside the allure, she retreated toward the door.

“Haven’t you spent enough time running from what makes you afraid?”

Lilith jumped. She turned to find a woman in a loose black velvet dress, her long gray hair twisted with raven’s feathers.

The woman smiled, revealing teeth that were slightly too crowded. “May I help you?”

Lilith swallowed, the words stuck in her throat.

Yes.

She needed help. Answers. Explanations for why plants stretched toward her, why animals wouldn’t stop fawning over her. Why the earth called to her. She needed to know what all this meant.

Especially that nightmare.

The gritty taste of ash filled her mouth.

Her eyes burned with tears and she shook her head with a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t…”

“It’s the dream, isn’t it?”

Every hair on the back of Lilith’s neck stood on end. “Excuse me?”

The woman smiled and curled her fingers gracefully toward herself. “Come.”

Lilith’s feet moved obediently, following the woman to the rear of the shop where a round table was draped with a paisley silk scarf. Her pulse tap, tap, tapped with apprehension.

Still, she sank into the plush burgundy chair opposite the ornate wooden one where the woman sat.

The table between them was small, but the decision that lay before Lilith was vast.

The air in the rear of the shop pulsed with life. With secrets.

“This is a sacred space,” the woman said, as if by way of explanation. She held her hand out in silent request. “May I?”

Lilith’s mouth went dry, but she stretched her arm out, settling her hand into the woman’s warm one, palm up.

The fortune teller’s extraordinarily green eyes glowed in the candlelight as her focus shifted to the crook of Lilith’s elbow. “Some believe birthmarks tie us to the past, to our ancestors.”

The birthmark tingled, as if stroked.

Lilith tried to swallow. Before she could muster anything to say, the woman leaned over her palm and sucked in a breath.

Lilith sat forward. “What is it?”

“All women have magic within them,” the fortune teller replied, her fingertip whispering over Lilith’s palm. “But the power in you is exceptional. Your gifts have reawakened. They are raw. Wild. They must be tamed.” Her voice held an edge.

Lilith shook her head. “I don’t—”

But the fortune teller was not done.