Page 39 of The Women of Wild Hill
“I haven’t named it yet,” Ivy said. “Perhaps you would like the honor?”
Lilith looked up with an arched eyebrow. “It’s unknown to science?”
“To my knowledge,” Ivy said, and both of them knew what that meant. “But I don’t believe I’m the first to discover it. When I was your age, I wanted to know what made Wild Hill so special. I read everything I could on the history of the Island, but I didn’t find much. All I discovered was a reference to a woman who was accused of bewitching the local deer and later hanged on Culling Pointe.”
“Was that Bessie?” Lilith asked.
“I believe so,” Ivy told her. “I couldn’t find any more information. It seems all but one of the people responsible died the following winter. The sole survivor said the others had eaten cursed mushrooms they’d picked on the witch’s land.”
“So Bessie really lived here on Wild Hill?”
“My grandfather tore down a hut to build the mansion. It must have belonged to her.”
“You think these mushrooms could be my weapon?” Lilith asked.
Now they had come to the crux of the issue. “I’m convinced they’re the same ones that killed the colonists. The poison mimics natural ailments. It seems to find the body’s natural weaknesses and exploit them. If the man has a weak heart, it targets the heart. If his sugar is high, it will make it soar out of control. If there is a clot somewhere in his circulatory system, it will dislodge it and send it straight to the brain.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve been experimenting,” Ivy told her coyly.
“Experimenting?”
Ivy leaned in close, though there was no one around to hear her. “Not all of my clients come to me with conditions that can be curedwith a salve. Over the years, a few of them have had pest problems that have required something much stronger.”
“How many clients?” Lilith asked.
“Five,” Ivy said. “Six if you include your mother.”
Lilith had long known about her father’s demise, but she hadn’t been told what they’d used to kill him. “And the poison hasn’t been detected by doctors?” She could feel her excitement rising.
“As far as I’m aware, no,” Ivy said.
“This could be just what I need,” Lilith told her.
“The only problem is, the mushrooms aren’t easy to process.” Ivy took a small vial out of her pocket. It was half filled with a clear liquid. “This took months to make by my method. It’s fine for a single use now and then, but it won’t suit your grand ambitions. You’ll have to find an efficient way to produce the poison at scale.”
“Not to worry.” Lilith plucked the vial from between her aunt’s fingers. “I enjoy a challenge.”
LILITH SET OUT TO APPLYto universities. But it was the 1940s, and most of the schools at the top of Lilith’s list did not admit women. Those that did admit women often did not allow them in their chemistry departments. And those that allowed women to study chemistry rarely welcomed them with open arms.
Lilith, as usual, found a way around the obstacles placed in front of her. She knew the men wouldn’t want her around while they performed their experiments—and she certainly didn’t want those idiots observing hers. Enrolled as a student at Barnard College, she broke into Columbia University’s chemistry labs after all the students had gone home for the evening. It was on one such night that she finally met her match.
She was bent over a microscope, fully immersed in her work, when she heard someone clear his throat behind her.
“What are you doing in here?” A man was standing in the doorway. She recognized him immediately. He was the youngest of the department’s professors—a refugee from the war overseas.
“I’m working,” Lilith told him. She wasn’t going to waste a second on chitchat. Who knew how many minutes she had left before he hauled her out the door.
The man walked over to where she sat. His physical appearance didn’t exactly inspire terror. He was tall and lanky with remarkably long fingers, tortoiseshell glasses, and a slight stoop. Lilith wondered if she could overpower him. She’d tie him up with Bunsen burner tubing, perhaps, while she finished her experiments. She waited to feel the grip of his hand on her arm—and the abrupt yank pulling her off the stool. But neither ever came. The man merely stood and watched over her shoulder.
“Natural product synthesis,” he said with a slight accent she hadn’t noticed before. “Where did you learn it?”
“I read books and taught myself.” Lilith looked up at him as if to make clear that was all she was prepared to say on the matter.
He merely stuck his lower lip out and nodded.
“And the compound? What is it?”
