Page 54 of A Time of Witches

“Sybil Brantham,” the barrel-chested guard bellowed.

Her hands dropped from the damp wall, her insides shrinking against themselves.

There was only one reason her name would be called.

The time had come for her to speak with Matthew Hopkins once more.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lilith

Though exhausted, there was no more sleep for Lilith. Not when doing so might drag her back down that hallway of mirrors where she did not have a reflection.

Not when her birthmark continued to ache with warning.

Not when she only had three days left.

The clink of dishes sounded from the kitchen, evidence that Asher was awake and moving about. Then she remembered she had to talk to him, to ask—beg—to be allowed into the manor.

With a sigh, she pushed from bed and readied herself for the day, telling herself the extra care she took with her mascara had everything to do with convincing Asher and nothing to do with the man himself.

The iron table was waiting for her again with a fresh carafe of coffee. She sat down, shuddering at the effect of iron against her, and poured a cup of coffee as Asher entered the room. “English breakfast all right?”

It didn’t escape her notice that he was wearing his vet scrubs even though it was Saturday.

“Yes, thank you.” She sipped her coffee, pretending to be casual. “Are you going into work today?”

“For a few hours.”

“I hate to put you out, but…” Lilith winced, letting him know exactly how painful this question was for her. “Do you think I might could borrow the key for the manor to check it out on my own?”

“By yourself?” A small line showed between his brows. “Did Aunt Jacqueline put you up to this?”

Lilith hesitated. Was there an Aunt Jacqueline conspiracy underway that she wasn’t privy to?

He gave a slow nod, saving Lilith from having to answer. “Actually, yes. You can. It’s the least I can do for your help yesterday.”

Lilith gave him her best debutante smile. Not that she had ever been a debutante—much to Mama’s dismay.

The smile he returned could have melted butter, all hotness and not a lick of grump to him. “Be right back.”

Her foot jogged under the table, her entire body alight with the need to hurry through breakfast and get to the manor.

True to his word, he returned with the heavy iron key and a pitcher of tea. “Aunt Jacqueline said you wanted some peppermint tea this morning as well. In addition to your, erm, coffee?” There was a slight question in his tone. Because how odd.

But something in Lilith’s gut told her Aunt Jacqueline was on about the tea for good reason.

“Yes, thank you,” Lilith replied without explanation. Not like she had one to give…

A plate of hurriedly eaten fried eggs and baked beans, plus a cup of peppermint tea later, Asher left with a wave that made more warm fuzzies in Lilith’s chest than she cared to admit.

Just like his trust in giving her that key mattered more than it should.

After ensuring Aunt Jacqueline was still peacefully sleeping, Lilith slipped out of the bed and breakfast and rushed to the manor.

Entering the old building was less disorienting this time, the seam between past and present more normal—if such a thing could ever be called “normal.” The ethereal form of a maid swept from the Great Hall into the kitchen.

The layer of the past over the present seemed clearer now. Stronger.