Page 40 of A Time of Witches

Lilith stiffened. “I… Well… Asher said he preferred I didn’t go.”

Aunt Jacqueline threw her hand in a dismissive motion. “He doesn’t understand like you and I do.” With a grin, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the old iron key.

Lilith’s pulse skipped.

“Take it.” Aunt Jacquline waggled the key at her.

Still, Lilith paused. What if Asher found out and got so steaming mad that he made her leave? Then she’d never see Brackenmere Manor again.

Aunt Jacqueline gave a little whistle. The skunk withdrew its head from digging detail, took the key from her with its sharp teeth, and trotted over to Lilith like a puppy.

She jerked back instinctively.

“He won’t hurt you.” Aunt Jacqueline nodded, as if this was the most normal thing ever. “Go on, open your hand.”

Everything about this seemed like a horrible idea.

Still, Lilith hesitantly extended her hand and the skunk dropped the key into her palm before returning to Aunt Jacqueline. “Did you train him to do that?”

“No,” Aunt Jacqueline replied airily. “He just knows what to do because he’s such a good boy, aren’t you?”

The skunk opened his mouth in a snaggle-toothed smile.

Well, that was weird as all get out.

Aunt Jacqueline waved at Lilith. “Go on, go on.”

Lilith looked at the skunk skeptically once more.

“I may be old, but I assure you, I know what I’m doing.” There was an impatient chastisement to Aunt Jacqueline’s tone, one that spoke of a lack of others’ faith in her. “I can be trusted.”

Lilith understood having her ideas muted, like with a male manager she once had in her teens when she worked at The 5 Spot. Or with how many times Mama told her an opinionated woman was a nuisance.

Lilith nodded and left Aunt Jacqueline to her skunk, setting off for the manor with a whoosh of excitement flooding her veins.

Chapter Nineteen

Lilith

Brackenmere Manor appeared to be an entirely normal dilapidated old house upon Lilith’s arrival. There was no flash of light, no altered reality with the manor restored to its former appearance.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Jet lag, or maybe some strange migraine, had likely altered her vision yesterday.

She unlocked the door, which creaked open with an ominous groan that scraped up Lilith’s spine.

Had it sounded like that before?

She stepped inside and was met with the now-familiar fragrance of rushes, meadowsweet, and lavender. A hint of their existence hovered atop the dusty floor, like a vellum overlay on the present.

Lilith blinked her eyes hard and regarded the floor again.

The image didn’t clear. In fact, now she could make out ghost impressions of images all around the room, heavy wooden furniture, tapestries hanging on the walls.

Voices snagged the air in thready whispers. Just like before, only this time they were louder.

More insistent?