Page 47 of The Women of Wild Hill

When Brigid returned home from the Geddes house, she found Phoebe waiting for her on the front porch with a wicker basket resting on her lap, its contents covered by a kitchen towel.

“How was it?” Phoebe wanted to know.

“Illuminating,” Brigid told her.

“Really? That good?”

“I wasn’t referring to sex, but since you asked, yes. The sex was amazing.”

Phoebe gestured toward a neighboring chair and Brigid took a seat beside her. “So how did you mean it?”

“Liam gave me his dad’s diary.” Brigid showed her sister the leather-bound notebook. “By the way, Liam’s friends with all the evil motherfuckers who’ve been pulling the strings. As a matter of fact, he’s having a party for them and the three of us are invited.”

“Well, I guess that solves one mystery,” Phoebe said. “Now we know what to do with these.” She passed Brigid the basket and pulled the towel off the top. Inside were dozens of small black mushrooms.

“What are they?” Brigid picked one up and twirled it between her fingers.

“The secret ingredient in Lilith’s poison.”

Brigid dropped the mushroom back in the basket and lit a joint. “Where’d you pick them?”

“They grow in the mansion’s root cellar.”

It took a few seconds for the information to detonate. Suddenly, Brigid was back on her feet. “Holy shit! You guys got into the root cellar?”

“We did,” Phoebe told her.

Brigid was practically vibrating with excitement. “Show me! Show me!”

“In a minute,” Phoebe said. “Can we have a quick chat first?”

“Why? About what?”

“The plan. And our role in it. I think we’re supposed to poison Liam’s friends.”

Her excitement thoroughly dampened, Brigid took a drag from her joint and passed it to Phoebe.

“I guess I’m not surprised. All the pieces are coming together.

Calum used the poison to steal his company back.

Once he was a mogul, he made friends with every asshole on the planet.

Then, a few days after he dies, his son shows up, invites us to a party, and you guys find the mushrooms. Makes sense except for one thing. ”

“What?”

“Mom didn’t have to die to get us here. She could have stayed with Calum and taken out his friends, one by one. Just like Lilith did with the Nazis. There’s nothing in the plan so far that requires our unique skills.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” Phoebe knew her sister was right.

“We’re still missing an important piece of the puzzle.”

Phoebe nodded thoughtfully. “I guess so. I’m very sorry, Brigid, but I think you’re going to have to keep banging Liam Geddes until we figure it out.”

“Damn.” Brigid sighed. “Welp, I guess I’ll just have to take one for the team.”

When their laughter finally trailed off, they sat in silence, passing the joint back and forth between them.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Phoebe confessed. “Sibyl and I didn’t just see the root cellar. Bessie showed us the rest of the mansion, too.”

Just as she’d expected, Brigid was hurt. “What? And you guys didn’t wait for me?”

“We didn’t know when you would be back,” Phoebe told her. “But you’re right. We should have waited, and I’m sorry. Going forward, the three of us need to act as a team. No more secrets. No more fights. We have to be able to trust each other completely.”

Brigid nodded. “I agree,” she said, and left it at that.

Phoebe exhaled. “Well, that was easy.”

“I would have made peace with you ages ago if I could have.”

“What do you mean, if you could have?”

“You were so angry—”

Phoebe’s back came off the chair as she spun around in her seat. “I was angry? You didn’t want anything to do with me!”

“That’s not true,” Brigid insisted. “I hired private investigators to give me updates on you and Sibyl. Ask me anything. I can tell you how big Sibyl was when she was born. Eight pounds three ounces. I know your husband’s mother’s maiden name.”

“Ed’s not my husband.”

“More or less,” Brigid said. “Nice guy. Handsome, too.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me, but when I asked you to take custody of me, you told me to fuck off.”

Brigid screwed her face up and held out her hand for what was left of the joint. “I think you’ve had too much of that. You’re hallucinating. I never said anything of the sort.”

“Your stepmother told me that you weren’t interested in helping me!”

Brigid snorted. “You spoke to Sienna Laguerre? When?”

“Right after you turned eighteen. I sent you a letter you never answered, so I got the attorney to give me your dad’s phone number, and when I called your stepmom answered.”

“My stepmom? You mean the monster who tortured me every goddamned day until I got my first movie gig and moved the hell out of her house? The stepmother I haven’t spoken to since that happened? The stepmother who was the inspiration for the life-sucking demon in the first film I wrote?”

Phoebe pulled in a deep breath and held it. “Fuck,” she sighed as she set it free. Sibyl was right. She’d been an idiot to listen to Brigid’s stepmother.

“If I’d known you needed me, I would have been there in an instant.”

Phoebe nodded mutely. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Her sister thought it was a misunderstanding.

But it wasn’t. Not really. Over the past thirty years, she’d never once wondered if Sienna Laguerre had been telling the truth.

She’d been so quick to believe the worst of her sister. Now Phoebe knew why. She’d wanted to.

Her entire life, Phoebe had defined her place in the world in relation to Brigid. She was the sweet one. The easy one. The healer. She needed Brigid to be the bad sister in order for her to be the good one. But she’d mixed up their roles. She’d been wrong about everything.

Brigid saw her sister start to crumble. “Hey, Phoebe, don’t lose it,” she said. “It’s all in the past now. I just wish I’d killed that bitch when I had the chance. The fire ants would have been the perfect solution. No open casket.”

Her sister’s kindness destroyed the last of Phoebe’s defenses, and the tears finally broke through. “I’m sorry,” she blubbered. “I’m sorry for blaming you for Mom’s death, and I’m sorry for believing your stepmother. I’m fucking awful.”

“Yeah,” Brigid said, pulling Phoebe into her arms. “You’re a real asshole. But you’re also my sister, and I’ll always love you.”

“You don’t hate me?” Phoebe sobbed.

“Just a little.” Brigid laughed and let her go. “No, I don’t hate you. And I’m sorry for being a whiny bitch about my gift.” That conjured a memory she’d been meaning to share. “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you. I found out today I’m not the only killer witch in the world.”

Phoebe wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. “Yeah? How’d you find out?”

“I met another one on the beach this afternoon. Her name is Harriett Osborne. She and her friends burned down Culling Pointe. Apparently, there are quite a few witches in the hood these days. She believes the Island is drawing them.”

“Those must be the ‘others’ Bessie was talking about.”

“I don’t get it,” Brigid told her

Phoebe rose from her seat. “They’re being drawn to Wild Hill.”

Brigid sat, stunned. “Holy shit, the witches are all coming here?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why the mansion’s opened up. Come on.” She held out a hand. “We need to make sure it’s ready for visitors.”

“Hey, wait,” Brigid took her sister’s hand. “Before we go, there’s something I wanted to say. I really missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Phoebe told her.

THE PARTY AT THE GEDDES house threw the next obstacle in the Duncans’ path.

Brigid had packed a suitcase for Wild Hill, but she hadn’t brought anything suitable for rubbing shoulders with billionaires.

All of Phoebe’s clothes had been swept away by a tornado, and Sibyl’s were back in Brooklyn.

Fortunately, the cottage’s closets were filled with clothes left behind by the ancestors (and a few of Sadie’s lovers, both male and female).

In the attic, the three discovered an entire rack of evening gowns representing every fashion trend of the twentieth century.

Brigid chose a strapless black cocktail dress that Sadie had worn.

Phoebe found a flowing white Halston that Flora purchased back in the seventies.

And Sibyl chose a gold-beaded flapper dress that had belonged to her great-great-grandmother, Rose.

Liam sent a car to fetch them for the party.

Gathered in the foyer, it was the first time they saw each other in their formal wear.

Brigid’s eyes were smoky and lips scarlet.

Her red hair fell over her bare shoulders, where blue veins were just visible beneath violet-tinged skin.

Phoebe’s skin glowed with no assistance from makeup, and she wore her hair in a crown of braids woven through with a golden ribbon.

Sibyl was where all the Duncan traits met.

She was light and dark, glamorous and natural.

Her red curls formed a bloom around her lovely face.

The Three looked, very much, like a trio.

THE THREE ARRIVED TO FIND the Geddes house lit up from within. Its glass walls disappeared in the darkness, and hundreds of people milled about on a platform at the edge of the sea.

“I didn’t know everyone from Manhattan would be here,” Phoebe muttered. She wasn’t accustomed to being surrounded by so many people at once.

“There he is.” Brigid had caught sight of Liam across the room—and he had caught sight of her.

He excused himself from the conversation he’d been engrossed in only seconds earlier and made his way over to greet his latest guests.

He wore a pair of crisp black pants and a white button-down shirt with no tie.

Somehow, he was the best dressed man at the party.

“Ladies,” he said. “Thank you so much for coming. Phoebe, Sibyl, it’s lovely to see you again.” He kissed them both on the cheek. “You look absolutely stunning. And you . . .” He seemed to lose his words as he took Brigid in.

Brigid found herself struggling to focus. “You, too,” was all she could manage.

“Would you two excuse us for a few minutes?” Liam said, taking Brigid by the hand. “I need a word in private with Brigid.”

“A word?” Sibyl repeated.

“Just a quick word,” Brigid assured her before they hurried away.

“What the hell!” Phoebe exclaimed. “Rudeness!”

“Oh, come on,” Sibyl told her. “Surely you’ve been to parties before. You don’t need Brigid to hold your hand.”

“She’s the one they’re all here to see!” It was at that point she noticed several heads had turned in their direction. “What are these pasty white guys looking at?” Phoebe muttered under her breath.

“Us,” Sibyl said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we look damn good.”

An older gentleman in a perfectly cut suit was making a beeline for them from across the room.

“Oh shit,” Phoebe muttered. “He’s probably wondering who let the Black people in.”

“Can you please relax?” Sibyl told her. “This is Liam’s house. He’s the only one who can kick us out, and he’s not going to do that ‘cause he’s busy boffing your sister.”

“Excuse me,” said the man as he approached. “Are you Sibyl Duncan-Fox?”

Suddenly, Sibyl didn’t seem quite so confident. “That depends on how you feel about Sibyl Duncan-Fox,” she replied.

The man chuckled. “I feel very frustrated because I haven’t been able to return to her restaurant. The meal I had there last month was one of the most remarkable of my life.”

“In that case, yes. I am Sibyl Duncan-Fox,” she confirmed. “This is my mother, Phoebe Duncan.”

“Bill Rogers.” The man shook their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Are you spending much time on the Island this summer?”

Sibyl glanced over at her mother. “I’ll be out here as long as my mother will have me. Our family estate is not far away.”

“Don’t tell me you’re the Duncans who own Wild Hill!”

“We are,” Sibyl confirmed.

The man pretended to look around conspiratorially. “I’d keep that quiet if I were you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’ll be mobbed with people trying to weasel an invite out of you. No one’s seen the old mansion up close. Rumor has it, it’s haunted.”

“It is,” Phoebe confirmed.

“How wonderful!” the man pronounced, clapping his hands together in glee.

“Listen, I know you’re here on holiday, so feel free to tell me to buzz off.

But Sibyl, if you’re interested in introducing your splendid cuisine to the Island, I’m certain you’d be able to name any price.

I’d be thrilled to make the introduction at my next get-together.

I’ve been searching in vain for the perfect caterer. ”

“I’m afraid I don’t—” Sibyl started to say before her mother cut her off.

“She’ll give it some thought,” Phoebe said. “Is there a way we can contact you?”

“Certainly! I’ll have my assistant send you my personal contact information via Liam. Such a pleasure to meet you both. I hope we cross paths again soon.”

After he was gone, Sibyl turned to her mother. “What the fuck? We’re supposed to be saving the world and you’re signing my ass up for odd jobs?”

“You didn’t recognize his name?”

“No,” Sibyl admitted. “Should I have? What was it again? Bob Jones? Jim Smith? Chip Whitebread?”

“Bill Rogers runs the Lattimore Group. They promote fossil fuel use—even now, after all that’s happened—”

Sibyl stopped her. “I know what they do.” Her eyes found him on the other side of the room. “You’re telling me that nice old man is evil?”

“That nice old man has used his billions to fund climate change denial propaganda for decades. Now we have a way into his house.” She took her daughter’s chin and turned Sibyl’s head around to face her. “And it was your gift that got us in.”