Page 56 of The Women of Wild Hill

Phoebe was waiting for them on the front porch that evening when they got back to Wild Hill. “I thought we agreed that it was just a reconnaissance mission. I thought no one was going to die.”

“How the hell did you find out so fast?” Sibyl asked. “Did you have a vision?”

“It was all over the news! And neither of you was answering your phones!”

“I swear I didn’t kill Vernon Cage,” Brigid said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Me, either!” Sibyl added.

Brigid had no intention of contradicting her niece, but suddenly she had a question that couldn’t wait. “Oh shit. How many people ate that mushroom bruschetta?”

“You fed people the mushrooms!” Phoebe teetered on the verge of collapse.

“What are you talking about? Of course I did!” Sibyl seemed confused.

Then her eyes went wide. “I served a mix of oyster mushrooms and chicken of the woods on toast. It’s one of my signature dishes, and the owner of the house requested it.

Did you two really think I’d gone rogue?

” A new thought hit her and she visibly reeled.

“Holy shit, Brigid. Is that why you knocked the tray out of my hands? Because you thought I’d decided to kill everyone on my own?

If you hadn’t done that, Vernon Cage would still be alive. ”

“Fuck this bullshit” was all Brigid could offer in return. “I’m going to bed.”

“If we’re going forward with the mission, we have to trust each other!” Sibyl called to her back as she walked away.

Brigid spun around. “I met you a week ago.” She pointed at Phoebe. “I haven’t seen her in thirty years. Forgive me if I’m not ready for trust falls with either of you just yet.”

“Bitch,” Phoebe muttered under her breath.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t start,” Sibyl said as she made for the stairs. “I’m too exhausted for this crap.”

WHEN SHE REACHED HER BEDROOM, Sibyl stripped out of her clothes and lay down on the bed.

But the place she traveled when she closed her eyes was not sleep.

It was just as dark and as deep, but it was far from restful.

She could see nothing, but she felt the cold wrap itself around her.

The floor under her feet was paved with stone that was slick with damp.

She could smell woodsmoke. A fire burned somewhere in the distance.

She followed the smoke for what seemed like hours.

She could hear men’s shouts and women’s screams. At last, she stepped out into twilight.

High stone walls rose behind her. In the square ahead, a raucous crowd had gathered.

In the center, three stoic women dressed in simple white gowns stood tied to stakes.

They weren’t sisters but rather three generations, Sibyl judged by their flowing hair, which was white, gray, and auburn. Each of them stood atop a pyre of wood.

“Do you know us?” The youngest was little more than a girl of fourteen or fifteen.

“You’re Sadie’s ghosts,” Sibyl said.

“Yours, too,” the middle said. “A whole branch of our tree, burned by men.”

“It was not just a story.” The old one spoke now.

“We brought you here so you can see it,” the middle one told Sibyl.

“And smell it,” the young woman added.

“Taste it, too.”

“And know men like our killers are still in the world. Their kind has not changed,” said the oldest. “You are The Third. You must take action.” A soldier touched a torch to the kindling beneath her.

The flames leaped up and caught the old woman’s skirt.

The crowd roared so loudly that Sibyl couldn’t hear her own screams.

SHE LURCHED UPRIGHT. HER THROAT was raw and her hair reeked of smoke.

The morning light streamed through the opening in her bedroom curtains.

Sibyl searched for her phone until she realized it was already clenched in her hand.

The ping of a notification sent a wave of panic through her system.

She didn’t want to look down, but she did.

She hadn’t set up any alerts, but one had come through—from a site she didn’t recognize.

The photo that accompanied the alert showed her aunt at the previous night’s party.

In the past few years, at least ten wealthy and powerful men have died under highly unusual circumstances.

It’s been noted that the deaths have all shared certain bizarre similarities.

We can now add another to the list. Actress and director Brigid Laguerre, known worldwide as the Queen of the Dark, was spotted at the scenes of the three latest deaths.

Though all three are likely to be declared accidental, the deaths of Senator Josh Jacobs, meat mogul Dan Wallace, and public relations guru Vernon Cage were caused by natural phenomena—namely jellyfish, ravens, and egg whites.

There have long been rumors that Laguerre is a practitioner of the dark arts.

Her fascination with the occult and macabre can be seen in all of her famous films. Death has surrounded Laguerre since the age of seventeen, when her mother committed suicide at the family estate.

Earlier this month, a police officer died at her California home, the victim of a snakebite to his genitals . . .

Phoebe couldn’t finish reading. “This is bad.”

“It’s poorly written, that’s for sure.” Sibyl looked up from her phone. “But it’s already on social media. None of the posts have gone viral yet, but it’s only eight o’clock in the morning.”

Brigid brought three cups of coffee to the kitchen table. She hadn’t expected to be dragged out of bed quite so early. “Why are they picking on me? I wasn’t the only one present for all three deaths. Liam was there. So were a bunch of his crusty old friends.”

“None of them have killed people professionally for the past thirty years,” Phoebe noted.

“I don’t kill people. I make movies. Some of Liam’s friends have actual body counts in the tens of thousands.”

“Are you two really going to argue about whether this is fair or not?” Sibyl demanded. “Or are we going to figure out what we need to do?”

The three of them jumped at a knock at the door.

“Did you close the gates behind you last night?” Phoebe asked Brigid.

“Of course!” Brigid said. “Did you open them?” she asked Sibyl.

“Are you high?” Sibyl responded.

“Of course I’m high!” Brigid told her. She hurried over to the window and got a glimpse of their unexpected guest. She marched to the front door and threw it open. “What are you doing here? How did you get through the gates?”

“Morning to you, too, darling. Your ghost let me in. I think she likes me.” He presented Brigid with a giant bouquet of wildflowers and bent down for a kiss. “Ladies,” he greeted Phoebe and Sibyl, who were both peeping around the corner.

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who watched a friend of his die a gruesome death last night,” Sibyl said.

“Vernon?” Liam asked as though he could barely recall the incident. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. More of an occasionally useful monster.”

“What are people saying?” Sibyl asked, fishing to see if he’d seen any of the gossip.

“Some are miffed that Vernon ruined a perfectly good party. Others wish he could have bitten the dust a little more gracefully.”

“You’re kidding,” Phoebe droned.

Liam winked at her. “I am. People are sad, but everyone knows the best thing to do is hop right back on the horse.” Liam turned to Brigid. “So I’m throwing a party tonight in honor of my gorgeous goth girlfriend.”

“It’s awfully soon.” Brigid couldn’t believe that she of all people had to point this out. “You really think your friends will come?”

“They wouldn’t miss it. We’re the most popular couple in town. I’ve been on the phone all morning. They’re all dying to mingle with the Queen of the Dark. Don’t worry, though. There won’t be any clingy fans. I’m keeping the list short. Only a few dozen of the biggest names.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Sibyl. “I hope it’s not too late to ask, but would you be interested in some light catering?”

Sibyl looked at her mother, who nodded.

“Any requests?” Sibyl inquired.

“Do you think you could forage some more of those mushrooms?” Liam asked.

“Yes,” Sibyl told him. “I think I could.”

THE THREE OF THEM STOOD in a line on the porch and watched Liam leave. Once they were sure he was out of earshot, Phoebe turned to the others.

“This might be our last chance. If the rumors about Brigid go viral, we’ll never get another invitation.”

“But we don’t have the poison ready,” Brigid pointed out.

“We don’t need it,” Sibyl said. “You came up with the solution when you accused me of attempted murder. We don’t need to extract the poison. We can just use the mushrooms. All I need to do is cook them.” She didn’t wait for a response before heading off toward the mansion.

“We can’t use the mushrooms!” Brigid shouted after her.

“Everyone will know it was you who poisoned them!” Phoebe added.

They chased after Sibyl, only to catch up with her halfway across the lawn, where she’d stopped to marvel at the mansion.

The vines and briars that had covered the house for well over a hundred years appeared to be in retreat.

They now reached only as high as the second floor, as though something deep down in the earth was pulling them into the ground. Bessie was not at her usual window.

“What does it mean?” Sibyl asked.

“An era has passed,” Phoebe said. “Another is beginning.”

“Is that a good thing?” Sibyl asked.

“For the planet,” Brigid told her niece. “For us? There’s no telling.”

“We need to find Bessie,” Phoebe said.

INSIDE THE MANSION, THEY COULD all feel the ghost’s presence.

It wasn’t until they opened the cellar door and shone a light into the darkness that they found her.

Bessie was kneeling among the mushrooms, her white gown still pristine despite the damp soil.

A large basket sat beside her on the ground.

She dropped two handfuls of mushrooms on top of a growing pile.

“There you are!” Bessie seemed pleased to see them. “I thought I’d best get started. Sibyl will need these to make her signature dish.”

“You already knew?” Brigid asked.

“Certainly. People will eat anything Sibyl makes. That’s her gift. It’s what she’s always been meant to do.”

“She won’t get away with it.” Phoebe could barely force the words out. “She’ll be arrested. Maybe killed. No. I’m putting my foot down. I won’t allow it.”

“It has to be me,” Sibyl said.

“You don’t know that!” Phoebe argued furiously.

“I do know that. Sadie’s ghosts—the three witches King James burned at the stake—they called me back to their time and told me.” Sibyl folded her arms. She wasn’t going to give in.

Phoebe sought Brigid’s backup. “My daughter has lost her fucking mind. We can’t let her do this.”

“Okay,” Brigid said. “I agree. Calm down.”

“I have other gifts,” Sibyl told her aunt and mother. “When I see the ancestors, it’s not in dreams. I can travel through our bloodline. I know everything the ancestors know. That’s why I’m The Third. That’s why it has to be me.”

The two older women stood in stunned silence.

Bessie took the opportunity to chime in. “If it helps, I imagine the two of you will be implicated in the plot as well.”

“This is what all this has been leading to?” Phoebe asked her. “This is our family’s mission?”

“Killing a bunch of billionaires at a party and getting caught?” Brigid scoffed. “I mean, it sounds like a lot of fun and all but—”

“It will be the start of a revolution,” Bessie told them.

“You’ll be executing enemies of the Old One.

Men who have spent their lives destroying everything she created.

Exploiting those less fortunate than themselves.

Hoarding power and money and resources. When our kind prevails, the three of you will be hailed as heroes. ”

“Dead heroes,” Phoebe said.

“Is that why the Old One brought Liam to Wild Hill?” Brigid asked.

“Yes,” Bessie confirmed. “Liam was the only person on earth who could bring all the right men together. Going after them one by one wouldn’t have worked. As you can see, they catch on quickly. Best to take them out all at once.”

“So I was just the lure?” Brigid asked. “She made me fall in love with him just so he could die?”

“Everyone has their role to play,” Bessie confirmed.

“Not me, I guess,” Phoebe said bitterly. “Brigid acted as the lure. Sibyl is supposed to poison everyone. What am I meant to do?”

“Let them,” Bessie said. “Your sacrifice will inspire others.”

Brigid still couldn’t believe it. “This is what you told Sadie when she came to America—what you showed my mother before she died. This is the destiny that’s been in store for us all this time?”

“Were you expecting a glorious reward?” Bessie asked. “In all the years you spent away from Wild Hill, did you become like them?”

“Them?” Brigid asked.

“Those who need to be promised pure bliss in the afterlife in order to do what is right in this one?”

“This is a test, isn’t it?” Sibyl asked.

“The Old One doesn’t give tests,” Bessie told them. “You either are The Three—or you aren’t.”