Page 3 of A Time of Witches

The sad remnants of vine remained in the backyard, a memory of its former glory, like a Christmas tree tucked away after the holidays. But after Mama’s death, after the hum of the earth filled Lilith’s veins, vines had regrown overnight, scaling the fence and pushing out beyond the barrier of the garden.

Her head ached, exhaustion blunting any logical explanation of how the plant could have grown again after all these years.

She reached for a leaf and the vine stretched to her fingertips; red flowers sprouted outward like a series of small fireworks.

Her hand jerked back and an icy breeze lanced through the thick humidity.

The hair on her arms stood on end.

Plants grew all the time.

Not like that though. Not that fast.

Surely, she hadn’t imagined that the plant had just grown toward her.

Like when she’d been a little girl. Back when Mama said there was no such thing as magic, that Lilith was being foolish.

But if she was a fool, why had she suddenly been cursed with all this…strangeness?

And why did she feel like the world and that dream were trying to tell her something?

Chapter Two

Lilith

Lilith sagged against the counter at Shelver’s after showing the fourth customer that day where Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil was located—in the section conveniently titled “Local Interest” where stacks of the popular book were on prominent display.

She scrubbed a hand over her face, as if she could swipe away the veil of fatigue.

Lord, she needed sleep.

One of the resident cats padded to the front room and looked miserably up at her, his stomach gurgling audibly. She knew that sound when it came to Fred.

A noxious odor filled the room.

Suddenly wide awake, Lilith snatched him up and rushed him to the back room where she discovered his food bowl was full of the crunchy X-shaped cat food. Not his prescription food.

“No, no, no, no…”

She quickly swapped out the food as the new girl entered the back room. Debbie’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”

“Fred got the wrong food.” Lilith dumped a couple scoops of Happy Gastronomy into a fresh bowl. “I left you a note about it last night.”

Debbie shook her head. “I didn’t see a note.”

Tamping down her frustration, Lilith replied, “I left it on the counter.”

Like, smack dab in the middle of the counter, written in thick black sharpie.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.” Debbie frowned down at Fred and gave him an apologetic stroke. He nuzzled against her and all was forgiven.

Lilith set the right bowl of food in front of him and left them both to return to the cash register.

Guilt trailed after her.

She had written the note, right?

In her mind’s eye, she recalled the bold black letters on a hot-pink sticky note. But at the counter, there was no note. Not on the floor or stuck to a nearby book or even crumpled up in the trash can.