Page 125 of A Time of Witches

Sybil gripped the splintered railing of the cart.

The horror had begun.

The executioner did not wait for Mary Bacon to die before he moved on to the next soul, the old vicar whose mouth still moved in prayer, no doubt offering support to those around him until his last, dying breath.

Next…

A sob choked in Sybil’s chest.

The executioner stopped behind Margery, her beautiful hair jaggedly hacked, her face crumpled. Her voice rose above the crowd in a desperate pitch. “Tell my husband I love him. Please. Tell—”

She flew forward and was yanked back by the rope about her neck. Her legs kicked in desperation, body swinging like a fish on a line.

Cheers erupted at the death of a woman with too much life left to live.

Nausea churned in Sybil’s stomach, and she turned away.

She could see no more.

But though her eyes stopped the horror, her ears caught every groan of the taxed wooden beam. Every gurgled choke as the rope caught. Every effusive cry of excitement for another innocent murdered.

Thunder rolled overhead and rain spit down at her.

When the final victim had been sent to their death, the creak of the cart opening once more drew Sybil’s attention.

Two guards hauled her to the grass, her feet heavy and awkward in her shackles. At the gallows, eighteen bodies swayed as the wind whipped about Thingoe Hill with a frenzy.

She knew that kind of storm. And the young woman who could cause it.

Please not today.

Even as she thought it, she caught sight of reddish-gold hair in the mob.

Jacinda.

Sybil’s blood ran cold.

Jacinda should not have come. And certainly, she should not be brewing this storm before an excited crowd who would eagerly see her swing from a rope.

Regardless of what Jacinda intended, it would not be enough. The risk she placed upon herself was in vain.

Sybil would be dead within the hour and no longer able to protect her daughter.

Chapter Sixty-One

Lilith

Lilith stepped closer to the two women dressed in old-fashioned clothing. “Jacinda?”

The young woman nodded. “And this is Kat, a fellow daughter of the earth. I could not perform the spell alone.”

A squirrel sat on the woman’s shoulder, almost lost in the riot of red curls. “It worked.” She cast an incredulous look at Jacinda. “The linking spell actually worked.”

“And is as yet incomplete.” Jacinda looked pointedly at Lilith, old eyes in a young face. A familiar bird perched on a tree behind her, those glittering black eyes fixed like a predator. “Did you find who spoke against Sybil?”

Lilith nodded. The world around her spun, time tugging at her like poorly fitted clothing. “Anne.”

Jacinda rocked back on her heels. “Anne?” She shook her head. “Were it not for Sybil’s generosity, Anne’s family would have perished during the plague.” Her gaze searched the air, her head still shaking in a rhythm of disbelief. “How?”