Page 53 of The Women of Wild Hill
“Victims?” Sibyl shot back. “Am I supposed to kill people? I don’t even know! What role is there for me in this story? Brigid knows what she’s supposed to do. Mom’s good at everything. She smoked that meat man without lifting a finger. But why am I here? To cook everyone dinner?”
“Your part hasn’t come yet,” Lilith told her. “You’ll know when it arrives. The Old One won’t be subtle, I promise. She speaks in earthquakes and lightning.”
“Okay, fine. But I can’t imagine how I’m going to make a difference. I thought maybe I’d pick up some new skills being here at Wild Hill. But so far, nothing. The only thing I can do is make amuse-bouche.”
Lilith looked at her with an amused expression. “That’s not the only thing you can do.”
“What else?”
“You can talk to me,” Lilith told her. “In my humble opinion, that is the greatest gift of all.”
Sibyl dismissed the thought with a wave of her spoon. “How do I know you’re not just a figment of my imagination?”
“Why on earth would you think that?” Lilith sounded offended.
“What are you, then? The ghost of my great-grandmother?” Sibyl asked. That would explain the outfit, the hairdo, and the accent.
“In a way,” Lilith told her. “It’s a wee bit more complicated than that.”
Sibyl studied her. “But you look so real. How is it possible?”
“We could discuss theoretical physics, if you like, but I’d rather talk about the other things you can do,” she said.
“Me? I can do more than cook and talk to ghosts?”
“The night you arrived on Wild Hill, you stepped back in time. But you weren’t just visiting. You were traveling through the bloodline and entering each of your ancestors’ minds. You know things about all of us now.”
Lily was right. Sibyl knew where Ivy kept the baking soda. She knew the family recipe for scones, which Sadie had brought over from Scotland. She remembered that Rose had been particularly fond of currant and cream scones, though she’d never seen her eat one.
It was a strange gift and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “How does it work?”
Lilith shrugged. “I don’t know. Close your eyes and tell me a secret.”
Sibyl closed her eyes and saw Sadie and Ivy in the living room of the caretaker’s cottage, putting on a show for a girl they both knew was eavesdropping.
“Sadie always knew you could talk to ghosts. And she knew you were hiding under the stairs that day we first met. She was trying to goad you into accepting the fact that you were a witch.”
“I always knew I was a witch,” Lilith replied. “I just didn’t want to be anyone else’s kind of witch. I wanted to chart my own path.”
“I think Sadie would be proud of you.”
“She should be proud of me,” Lilith replied haughtily. But Sibyl could tell she’d made an impression. “You know, you’ve done that very same thing.”
“What’s that?” Sibyl asked.
“Charted your own path.”
Sibyl snorted. “Only because I didn’t know I was on one.”
“That makes it all the more impressive,” Lilith said. “I had Sadie and Ivy yammering on about how special the Duncans were from the day I was born, while you had someone who was desperate to believe you were normal.”
“I am normal,” Sibyl said.
Lilith rolled her eyes. “Normal people can’t step into their dead relatives’ lives.”
“So that’s really my gift?”
“You have access to all of our knowledge. You had a conversation with Bessie, so you can talk to ghosts, too. And the cooking seems to be opening doors. Those are very nice gifts, if you ask me.”
“I guess,” Sibyl said. “But what am I supposed to do next?”
“No idea,” Lilith said.
“Oh shit, that’s it!” A flash of inspiration had just brightened the dark corners of Sibyl’s brain. “Mom’s been trying to replicate the poison you invented. I can just go back in time and watch you make a batch!”
Sibyl’s excitement didn’t prove contagious. “Don’t bother,” Lilith said. “Unless you have access to an industrial laboratory, it’s going to be pretty hard to make enough to suit your needs.”
Sibyl felt her hopes plummet. “Then I’d better find a solution fast.”
“You just got here. What’s the rush?”
“It’s Brigid,” Sibyl told Lilith. “She’s falling in love with Liam Geddes, who should be number one on our hit list. I worry what will happen if this goes on much longer.”
That’s when the kitchen door swung open. Brigid appeared, and Lily faded.
“Who were you just talking to?” Brigid’s eyes scanned the room.
“One of the ancestors,” Sibyl admitted.
Brigid stole a canapé off Sibyl’s tray. “A cook and a kook,” she said. “You certainly fit right in. I can’t believe your mother tried to keep you away from us all these years.”
Sibyl considered telling her aunt about Lily, but something stopped her. “Water under the bridge,” she said instead. “Though I do regret that I didn’t meet you before this week.”
Brigid grinned. “Oh, but you did,” she informed her niece.
“When?” Sibyl asked, scrolling back through her memories.
“I was at your restaurant’s opening night.”
“Bullshit,” Sibyl argued. “You think I wouldn’t remember a movie star being there?”
Brigid lifted her eyebrows. “A movie star who knows every costume designer in Hollywood?”
“You’re saying you came in disguise?”
“Hell yeah, I did. For a while, I was practically a regular. I ate at the Green Lady at least once a month. Stood in line for hours sometimes. No one ever realized I was there.”
Sibyl wasn’t the kind of girl who got weepy, but she had to grab a paper towel to dab at the corners of her eyes. All this time, the family she’d never met had been watching over her. “I wish that I’d known.”
“It’s okay,” Brigid told her. “You do now.”
Sibyl grabbed a plate and piled it high with food for her aunt.
The hors d’oeuvres were for an event at Bill Rogers’s house.
Phoebe, who’d insisted her daughter accept the catering gig, had announced she was staying home.
Killing the Meat Man had taken it out of her.
Fortunately, Brigid had agreed to attend.
“So will Liam be escorting you to the gathering this evening?” Sibyl teased.
“He will.” Brigid’s defenses went up.
“I’ve never been in love,” Sibyl pressed on while her aunt stuffed her face. “What’s it like?”
“Who the hell says I’m in love?” Brigid replied with her mouth full. “Damn, this is good. I’d take your cooking over storm summoning any day.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not in love.”
“You’re lying.” Sibyl called her out. “I’m young, but I’m not dumb.”
“Fine. Then I don’t recommend love,” Brigid told her. “It’s exhausting. Physically and emotionally.”
“Maybe you should take tonight off,” Sibyl suggested slyly. “I’m a professional. I can handle the Rogers event on my own.”
“And have your mother murder me the way she killed the Meat Man?”
“She’s still blaming it on the birds.” Their laughter ended when they noticed Phoebe standing in the kitchen doorway.
“It was the birds,” Phoebe insisted. This time, her sister and daughter laughed even harder. “Whatever.” Phoebe took an hors d’oeuvre and chewed it miserably.
“You did good,” Brigid told her. “That guy had to go.”
“I know,” Phoebe said. “But no more. If we keep offing rich guys one by one, someone’s going to notice before we have a chance to use the poison.”
Sibyl felt her heart sink, but she said nothing. There had to be an answer to the poison problem, and she would find it.
“So you’re in love with Liam?” she heard Phoebe ask Brigid.
“You were eavesdropping, were you?” Brigid replied. “Did you hear the part about what a nosy bitch you are?”
“I’m not joking around.” Phoebe clearly wasn’t. “You’ve got to know you’re playing with fire.”
Brigid wasn’t laughing now. “I assure you. I’ll do whatever is necessary when the time comes.”
“No one’s questioning that,” Sibyl jumped in.
But Phoebe couldn’t be put off. “No,” she agreed. “But I am getting scared. You two remind me of Mom and Calum. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“It might be too late for that,” Brigid admitted. “But at least I see it coming.”
“So did Mom,” Phoebe told her. “I don’t want to lose you. Not again. I couldn’t take it.”
“You won’t,” Brigid said. “I promise.”
“Fine.” Phoebe huffed. “And don’t kill anyone tonight at the party.”
“I won’t,” Brigid said. “But I can’t speak for Sibyl.”
Later, she’d wonder if the joke had been a coincidence—or proof her powers were growing.