Page 120 of A Time of Witches

For that reason, she did not cast a spell for herself. Nor did she compose one for the other souls condemned to die within an hour alongside her.

There were so many left to save. Women who would be persecuted for being different, and the men who stood up for those women. The many who would suffer the fate of false accusation, persecution, and death.

Sybil stood, rising up like a phoenix from the ashes, like Elizabeth from Shakespeare’s The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth. In a strong, clear voice, she began her enchantment, infusing it with the entirety of the earth’s power. “May the earth afford you, Robert Walsingham and Matthew Hopkins, the treatment you have granted others.”

He scoffed. “Quiet yourself.”

“May the earth afford you, Robert Walsingham and Matthew Hopkins, the treatment you have granted others.”

Not a curse. Not a blessing. But a promise. That the earth would cycle back to Walsingham and Hopkins with the heavy debts they’d accumulated.

Uncertainty flickered in the magistrate’s eyes.

Fear?

She said the words a final time. “May the earth afford you, Robert Walsingham and Matthew Hopkins, the treatment you have granted others.”

A rush of cool air whipped through the room, ripe with the fragrance of honeysuckle blossoms.

If the earth was good, these men would be rendered impotent through accusation. Unable to convict any more innocent souls to death.

The door to the room slammed open and the magistrate startled, a clear sign she had indeed unnerved him.

Matthew Hopkins swept in like a winter storm, brittle with cold indifference. “Why did you take off those shackles?”

“They’ll melt and become unusable.”

“Better than the rope burning and letting her free.” Matthew Hopkins examined Sybil. “The time has come.”

Then he quit the room, leaving the magistrate to comply with his order. The shackles clapped onto her ankle bones once more. The immediate silence so stark and empty compared to the euphoria she’d felt only moments ago that she could not help but weep.

She had run out of time.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Lilith

Honeysuckle flavored the air with a honeyed sweetness long before they reached the clearing.

Lilith followed behind Aunt Jacqueline, careful not to trip over Dragon as he darted between her feet. “How do you know Jacinda wasn’t in the house?”

“She never is within an hour after Sybil has been arrested,” Aunt Jacqueline answered matter-of-factly.

“You can see it all too?”

“See what?” Asher asked.

“Of course I can. Every daughter of the earth can see spells at work,” Aunt Jacqueline said. “We have to connect to Jacinda through the clearing. It is the only way.”

“And who is Jacinda?” Asher’s voice strained with exasperation.

Lilith disregarded his question, too fixed on the importance of the task ahead. “You know how to reach her?”

“It’s not an easy enchantment, and there are…sacrifices.” Aunt Jacqueline strode toward the weeping birch trees, her little skunk trundling alongside her.

“Sacrifices?” Lilith stiffened.

“Spells that tear the seams of time are forbidden.”