Page 104 of A Time of Witches

Dragon nudged Lilith’s calf, and she bent to stroke him. “I need your help today, bud.”

He squinted up at her, and she rubbed the underside of his chin, earning her a grateful purr.

A creak came from above.

Someone else was awake.

A final glance back in the kitchen confirmed the scullery maid was still setting about her mundane chores. Lilith took off, booking it up the stairs.

On the top floor, three maids moved around rooms, and two male servants did likewise down the hall.

The buxom maid named Bess was clearly in charge, ordering the women about as they made their beds and dressed, lacing one another’s gowns and pinning their caps into place. Bess didn’t flinch as she entered the men’s room despite their state of partial undress, ordering that the corners on beds be tucked tighter.

Within minutes, the five descended the stairs and dispersed in opposite directions.

This was what Lilith feared the most. She was one person, tasked to monitor a household with almost a dozen servants in the manor and another in the barn.

She looked to Dragon, deferring to his sage wisdom, but his head moved back and forth at each departing person, just as confused.

Lilith withdrew a stone from her pocket, one she’d initially mistaken for quartz. Upon closer inspection, she had noticed splotches of yellow, like tea stains embedded in the stone. Citrine.

Or yellow quartz as it had been known in the seventeenth century. Notable for its ability to bring good fortune and prosperity, increasing the likelihood of success.

The pink necklace pouch was still in contact with her body, stuffed in her bra to keep the contents against her skin.

Lacking any other receptacle for the new enchantment, she cupped the stone in her palm and added a sprinkling of bay leaves for success. She reached into her pocket and took out a pinch of cinnamon.

She sprinkled the cinnamon powder into her palm and the concoction pulsed to life with warmth. The whisper of the earth was too quiet. She stepped out of her shoes, letting her bare feet touch the floorboards. It wasn’t the same as having the naked earth against her soles, but the telltale vibration still echoed through her regardless.

Show me what I need to see.

She folded her hand around the mix of herbs, crushing them to the stone. Her brows pursed with concentration.

Show me what I need to see.

The world around her sharpened.

Show me what I need to see.

Footsteps were discernible, not only where she stood, but on all the floors of the manor. The damp air stirred with movement. The savory scent of the roasting meat that would be dinner mingled with the yeasty aroma of bread being kneaded, along with the herbal notes of the rushes on the first floor.

The house came alive in a concert of activity, and she was in tune with every note. Every pitch.

The padding of four delicate paws drew her eyes open.

A birdlike chittering sent Dragon racing off to Jacinda’s room. Lilith followed, finding the girl standing by the window in a long white nightgown.

“I received the letter you wrote for me in the grimoire,” Lilith confessed.

Jacinda turned, mouth parting in surprise. “The letter?”

Lilith touched the birthmark on her arm. Jacinda had not written the letter yet—at least not in any way that obeyed time. Something in Lilith told her to be vague in her reply. “It was a warning…an apology.”

Jacinda watched her with unease, as if something Lilith said pressed against a truth that had not yet formed.

“We need to find who denounced Sybil, like you said.” Lilith took a slow steadying breath. “I’m running out of time and so is Sybil.”

Jacinda pulled a cloak on over her nightdress. “I’ll help.”