Won’t you tell me who you are? Why you haunt me? Who is making you do this?

Your pretense at interest in me beyond what threat I pose is a thin disguise. I know all Lazarus witches dissemble when it suits them. Such sly creatures, afraid to show their true selves.

If you think that, then surely you must wish to reveal your identity to me?

A movement in the shadows startles me, making my heart leap. I am not alone, and whoever is with me in the garden now is not a visiting spirit.

“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice, though a whisper, sounding loud in the stillness that surrounds me. “Who is it?”

“Tis only I, darling sister,” says Freddie, stepping onto the patio beside me. Here the moonlight falls unimpeded by trees or foliage so that, while not strongly illuminated, my brother is plainly visible.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” I demand, more abruptly than I had intended. My heart is still thudding from conversing with the Dark Spirit. However unnerving his presence, I need to challenge him, to show him I will not be threatened by him. To find out if he does truly act at the behest of the Sentinels. But now Freddie is here, and I must turn my attention to him.

“I might ask you the same question,” he replies, lowering himself onto a chair. “But then, I know better than to inquire after your … curious nighttime activities. Father taught me well. If I was not good enough to join your merry little band, the very least I could do was to keep its existence a secret.”

“It can’t have been easy for you,” I say, and I mean it. I myself hate the lies I have to tell to protect the coven. How much harder must such deceit be for one who feels excluded from it?

Freddie sighs and runs a hand through his sleek black hair. There are moments he so resembles Father. And yet, in truth, he is little like him. He looks heartbreakingly sad. And so very alone. What happened to that happy little boy who shared my childhood?

As if reading my thoughts, Freddie smiles suddenly. “Do you remember that very hot summer before I went off to Harrow? We spent every afternoon swimming in the lake.”

I soften at the memory. “The minute we could escape from the appalling Mr. Carstairs. Oh! Was there ever a more boring tutor?”

“Papa thought he would make us serious.”

“Mama thought his manners very fine, as I recall.”

“Plain fact is, we’d seen off so many tutors, it was hard to find one who’d take us on.”

“You’d seen them off. I was a ridiculously well-behaved child.”

Freddie grins. “If it pleases you to think so I won’t argue,” he says. “Let’s agree at least that you were a willing coconspirator in my adventures.”