Page 85 of The Women of Wild Hill

“They’re not worth your time, darling. You’re destined for greater things than those children.”

“How?” Sibyl demanded. “I failed chemistry.”

“That again?” Lily yawned theatrically. “Chemistry just isn’t your gift. There are other gifts, you know.”

“You’re being nice, but we both know I’m not as smart as you.”

“I’m never nice!” Lily said, though she often was. “Besides, why on earth would I lie to you? What good would that do?”

Sibyl threw herself face down on the bed. “This is ridiculous!” she moaned into the mattress. “I’m too old for an imaginary friend.” She felt the bounce of the bedsprings as a body plopped down beside her.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not imaginary,” she heard Lily say.

“If you’re real, why can’t anyone else see you?”

“I don’t want them to.” A hint of annoyance crept into her voice. “Would you please sit up? I’m telling you I’m here for a reason.”

Sibyl rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Your mother stubbornly refuses to give you the guidance you need, so I’ve stepped in to provide it. For instance, what do you know about corvids?”

“You mean the cars?”

Lily shook her head in dismay. “No, the birds! Ravens, crows, jays, magpies.”

“Then I guess I know nothing about them.”

“They bring messages from the Old One and other realms. Ignore them at your peril. Why are some places on earth more powerful than others?”

Sibyl shook her head. “Dunno. Why?”

“Because these places absorbed the Old One’s magic when she stopped to admire her creation. It is in these locations that you’re likely to find witches. Your mother hasn’t taught you a damn thing, has she? I noticed she has the contraceptive herb silphium growing in her garden. Most experts assume it’s extinct. Do you know how our family procured the seeds?”

“What?” Sibyl had heard enough. “This is pathetic. First my mother doesn’t love me, and now I’ve lost my damn mind.”

For some reason this pissed Lily off more than anything. “Your mother loves you more than life itself,” she insisted. “She’s trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“The kind of pain she experienced.”

Sibyl groaned miserably. “I’m insane and my imaginary friend is spouting Beginner Psych bullshit.”

“You’re not insane. You’re annoying as hell,” Lily told her and disappeared.

THE ONLY PLACE SIBYL WAStruly happy was the kitchen. She’d been cooking since the age of four, but in Sibyl’s teenage years it became more passion than hobby. Her parents both worked long and unusual hours, and Sibyl found entertainment and encouragement at the stove. Lily often kept her company, chatting away as Sibyl chopped, sautéed, and occasionally flambéed. She loved to listen to Lily spin fantastic tales about a paradise called Wild Hill, where powerful women plotted to save the world. She was particularly fascinated by the resident ghost.

“Do you think people can really talk to the dead?” she asked Lily one day.

The question wasn’t meant to be funny and yet Lily snorted. “Of course! You don’t think so?”

“I’m not sure,” Sibyl admitted.

“What will it take to convince you?”

“A conversation with a ghost, I suppose,” Sibyl told her.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can arrange,” Lily told her. She didn’t seem to think it would be much of a challenge.