Page 47 of The Women of Wild Hill
“Look at these tomatoes!” Sibyl showed her aunt a perfect specimen, plump and scarlet. “It’s not even tomato season yet. And there are chickens around here somewhere. I found a half dozen eggs. Can you believe it?”
Brigid took another sip of Scotch. She planned to be good and drunk by the time Phoebe showed up. “The Old One brought us here for a reason,” Brigid said. “If she wants us to do her bidding, she can’t let us starve.”
“Well, the Old One has gone above and beyond. Prepare for a feast!”
Brigid couldn’t help but be charmed by this clever girl, with her baby doll freckles and wild red curls. She’d clearly inherited allthe best of the Duncan clan. Sadie’s energy, Rose’s warmth, Ivy’s optimism, her mother’s beauty. According to the last report filed by Brigid’s private investigator, Sibyl worked three lunch shifts a week at a soup kitchen in her neighborhood. She fed a colony of feral cats near the Brooklyn waterfront and picked up trash in Prospect Park. The poor little do-gooder had no idea what she’d gotten dragged into. Brigid prayed the Old One would go easy on her.
“Will you come to the kitchen and sit with me while I cook?” Sibyl asked.
Brigid thought about it. She’d planned to finish off at least one more glass of Scotch before she moved indoors. But there wasn’t enough liquor in the world to get her ready to spend time in the cottage. She might as well accept the invitation. “Fine,” she agreed.
The kitchen was a time capsule. Inside, the law of entropy had been suspended. Nothing had rusted, rotted, or gone to ruin in three decades. Even the food in the fridge appeared fresh. Brigid reached out for a bunch of green grapes and pinched one cautiously. It felt plump and juicy. Still, she pulled the bunch out and dumped it right in the trash.
“No good?” Sibyl asked.
“Not gonna risk it. Pretty sure enchanted fruit has never been properly tested on humans.”
Brigid closed the fridge and turned to find Sibyl holding a piece of yellow crime scene tape that was still stuck to the cellar door.
“Is this from the day Flora died?” she asked Brigid.
Brigid frowned at the sight of the yellow scrap. “No,” she said. “Your grandmother’s death was never investigated as a crime. That’s from the day a plumber found bodies buried in the basement.” Brigid watched Sibyl closely, waiting to see how she’d react to the news.
“That’s right,” Sibyl said, as though recalling a story she already knew well. “Ivy and Rose buried two men down there. One was an uncle. The other Rose’s husband. My great-great-grandfather, I think.”
The shock must have shown on Brigid’s face, and Sibyl seemed to relish it.
“Your mother told you?” Brigid asked.
“Of course not.” Sibyl dumped her basket out on the kitchen counter and began sorting through the vegetables. “She never told me anything. I’m kinda pissed about that, to be honest. If it hadn’t been for my dreams—”
“Your dreams?”
For a moment Sibyl seemed to worry she’d said too much. “They weren’t really dreams, but I don’t know what else to call them. Bessie told me to lie down on Sadie’s grave when I got here. The ancestors came to me and showed me stuff.”
Brigid dropped into a seat at the kitchen table. “Like what?” she asked as she refilled her glass with Scotch.
“I watched Sadie come to Wild Hill. I watched the lightning bolt kill her husband. Blew his shoes clean off.” She mimicked the explosion with her hands. “Have you ever seen someone get struck by lightning?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Brigid droned.
“Pretty wild,” said Sibyl, who didn’t seem shaken. “Then I saw Rose and Ivy murder those men.” She paused with a knife halfway through a squash. “Though I’m not suremurderis the right word for it. They deserved what they got. After that came Lilith and Levi—such a sweet couple. I saw Lilith use the mushrooms to make poison and—”
“Stop,” Brigid ordered.
Sibyl stopped and turned slowly, hands up, like a criminal caught in the act.
“Back up. What mushrooms? What poison?” Brigid asked.
“The poison Lilith used to kill all those Nazi scientists was made out of mushrooms,” Sibyl replied.
“Lilith didwhat?” Brigid had been raised to believe that Lilith, born boring, had renounced the Duncans’ witchy ways and lived a quiet life devoted to science and capitalism.
“Lilith and Levi killed hundreds of Nazis and fascists who escaped punishment after World War Two.”
Brigid’s mind was still stuck on two words. “Withpoison?”
Sibyl seemed to realize she’d entered dangerous territory. “Yes.”
