The Wicked In Me

Taking cover behind a cluster of trees, Wynter skimmed her gaze along the men stood around the clearing. She counted eleven, in total. There were all tall, armed, and powerfully built.

“Do you recognize any of them?” whispered Delilah.

“Yup,” Wynter replied, her voice just as low. “They’re keepers from Aeon.” Even if she hadn’t known each face, she’d have identified their origins by the distinctive insignia on their swords—most of which also sported runes, courtesy of her magick. Her monster easily recognized the men too and, not a fan of how they’d treated Wynter over the years, it was not at all happy about their presence.

Anabel sidled closer, hugging herself and biting her lip. “Keepers are like enforcers, right?”

“They’re mostly executioners,” said Wynter. “But they’ll also act as enforcers, messengers, or bodyguards—whatever the Aeons want them to be.”

“So minions, basically,” Anabel surmised.

“Assholes, too. Especially the one with the crew cut and the scraggly beard. He used to harass the hell out of my mom. He acted like a real prick toward her when she refused to date him.” Fort had also flashed Wynter several seriously creepy smiles over recent years, commenting on how she looked so much like Davina.

Xavier licked the front of his teeth. “It’s a pretty small force, so I doubt they’re here for war.”

Wynter’s thoughts exactly. “The Aeons won’t have sent them here to start a battle. It would be senseless. Such a low number would never survive it.”

“Oh, what a spectacular behind,” Hattie whispered, ogling a keeper who’d bent over to wipe his boot.

Delilah gently bumped the old woman’s shoulder with her own. “Not sure if you’re paying attention to the conversation we’re having here, but these are very bad men.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hattie with a small wave of her hand. “I do love a bad boy, though. Admit it, we all do.”

Delilah frowned. “Not goddamn executioners, Hattie.”

Xavier raised his hand for silence. “And we have yet another keeper, apparently.”

It would seem so, because a burly male who Wynter also recognized stalked into the clearing. She felt the corners of her eyes tighten. “Cletus,” she bit out.

Xavier’s brows met. “I’m getting the feeling I should loathe Cletus. Why should I loathe him?”

“He likes to take from women what they don’t want to give,” she fudged.

Fort turned to fully face Cletus. “Well?”

“No sign of Wynter anywhere,” replied Cletus. “I told you it’d be a waste of time. The Ancients will be keeping her in their underground city.”

Fort rubbed at his bearded jaw. “Did you find a way to get down there?”

Cletus shook his head. “I’m not even sure where the entrance is.”

Fort’s brother and fellow asshole, Milos, propped his fists on his hips. “We could try and pay off a local to lure her out here to us.”

Fort dismissed that idea with a puff of sound. “They won’t do us any favors. Not for any amount of money. It’s best that we lay low and remain undetected.”

“We don’t have to say we’re from Aeon,” said Milos. “We could claim to be bounty hunters or something.”

“A lot of people here are probably on the run, so I doubt hunters would be welcome in a place like this.” Fort scratched at his head. “Lailah did warn us it wouldn’t be easy to find Wynter, so I don’t think we need to worry that she’ll lose her mind if we return without her. Not as long as we’re successful at mapping out the town as best we can. She said she wants the location of every nook, every cranny, every blind spot.”

Delilah softly cursed. “The Aeons are preparing to invade the town, huh?”

“Looks like it,” said Wynter, listening as Fort barked orders to each of the keepers. “And these bastards are gonna simplify it for them. I can’t say I’m down with that.”

Xavier looked at her, his eyes bright. “Can we kill them?”

“It’s that or let them run back home with information that we don’t want the Aeons to possess so, yeah, we can kill them,” said Wynter.

He flashed her a slow grin and conjured his sword. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Looking similarly pleased, Hattie and Delilah shifted into their animal forms. The crow settled on top of the monstrous cat, who flexed its iron claws. Both women could also fight with magick, but they preferred using their animal forms since it meant that their senses, reflexes, strength, and speed were enhanced.

Wynter lifted a brow at Anabel. “Are you joining the fight or waiting here?”

A sword materialized in the blonde’s hand, which answered the question.

Wynter called to her own blade and then placed her mouth near Anabel’s ear. “Mary, Mary, please come out,” she quietly sang.

The blonde’s demeanor changed in an instant, switching from nervous to eager as her eyes took on that familiar not-so-sane light.

“No drinking blood,” Wynter told her.

Anabel/Mary nodded, a feral smile splitting her lips. “Understood.”

Conscious that she couldn’t allow her monster free rein right now, Wynter silently assured it that the keepers would die, relieved when it didn’t push for supremacy.

“Fort’s mine,” Wynter told her crew. “Okay … now.” Pumped full of anticipation, she rushed out of the woods with the others at her heels.

Taken off-guard, it took the keepers a moment to react. But, highly trained as they were, they sprung to attention fast and raised their weapons.

She made a swift beeline for Fort, but freaking Cletus came at her from another angle, forcing her to turn to him. She blocked the sword that swung her way, and their blades clanged.

Sneering, he danced backwards. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Clearly not hard enough,” she said. “I found you first.”

They parried and thrust over and over. She didn’t need to worry about the Ancients or townspeople watching her fight, so she didn’t check her speed; didn’t hold back magickly or otherwise. He staggered backwards under the pressure, unprepared for the rigor with which she flew at him. He fell on his butt, and she wasted no time in skewering him with her sword.

Milos came into view and sent balls of blue light sailing at her—one clipped her shoulder, the other smashed into her chest. Pretty they might be, but they also hit like a goddamn hammer, bruising her for sure.

She retaliated with her own magick, hurling dark smoky spiked orbs right at his fucking head—orbs he annoyingly managed to evade. Swords raised, they went at each other. They ducked and twisted and deflected, cursing and snarling.

Around her, her crew battled hard. Dead keepers were up and running, fighting the live keepers. Roars, cries, grunts, squawks, the clashing of steel, and the insanity-laced giggles of Anabel/Mary filled the air.

Wynter hissed as Milos’s blade stabbed her smarting shoulder. His brows snapped together when the runes had no effect on her. Yeah, well, there was something he didn’t know, and she saw no need to educate him about it.

Although a wet warmth pooled on her skin and soaked her tee, she didn’t look at the wound. She kept swiping out with her sword, aiming for every weak spot, ensuring her every strike was precise.

He twisted his hips and kicked out at her stomach. Missed. Growled. Charged.

She ducked and came up on his side, thrusting her sword deep. He stumbled, his lips parting in both shock and pain, and then dropped to his knees. She swung her sword, beheading him … and smirked at Fort as she did so.

Screaming in fury at the death of his brother, Fort yanked his blade out of a reanimated keeper. He didn’t look good. At all. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his tee sported several scarlet stains.

He rushed Wynter with another loud cry of anger, his nostrils flaring when she parried the blow. “You bitch,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy this. I didn’t get the privilege of tossing your thou-art-holier-than-thou mother over the falls. I’ll pay that bitch back by impaling her daughter on my blade, and I’ll avenge my brother in the doing of it.”

Anger flooded her at the mention of her mother, but Wynter kept it in check. “You were honestly surprised she rejected you? Come on, Fort, you make ogres look good.”

He lunged with a roar. His blows were precise and powerful. The tall bastard had a long reach, and he used it well. Sadly.

Knowing to go for his exposed legs, Wynter swung her hips and slammed the flat of her foot on his thigh, loving his subsequent grunt. The piece of shit waved his arm, sending a gust of magick at her. The weight of it sent her skidding back several feet, but she managed not to fall. Liking the surprise flickering in his eyes, she grinned and then lashed out with her magick.

Growling as deep welts sizzled to life on his face and neck, he retaliated with a swipe of his sword. She blocked it, and then they were at it again.

Around them, chaos raged on. But she could sense that the numbers of keepers had dropped. And beneath the sound of Anabel/ Mary singing “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers”—whatever the fuck that was about—the distinctive noises of battle had dimmed.

Wind came at her again, belting her in the face and stealing her breath. She stayed on her feet, but it meant throwing out her arms to—

Pain blazed along her chest as the sword sliced through cloth and skin. “Motherfucker.” His taunting laugh only fueled her anger. She struck at him with magick, and he cursed as whips of dark power zapped their way along the ground and crashed into him.

The bastard rallied fast and rushed her again, thrusting and parrying, his breathing rapid and shallow. He was running out of steam, and they both knew it. Maybe that was why he began to strike out wildly, desperately, like death itself was hot on his heels.

Well, it was.

When the opening she was waiting for finally came, she kicked out at his knee with a snarl. His leg buckled slightly, and she took advantage. Lunging forward, she thrust the sword deep into his gut, twisted it sharply, and then withdrew it. After a moment, he slumped to his front, dead. Boom.

Wynter glanced at her crew. Delilah and Hattie were back in their human forms, and both had suffered only minor wounds. Xavier looked like he’d been attacked by an alley cat, so he’d likely been hit with skinwalker magick or something.

Anabel/Mary was lying among the corpses that were sprawled on the grass with their eyes open wide and their clothes soaked with blood. She wasn’t dead herself. She wasn’t even severely injured. But she’d linked her fingers through that of a dead keeper and was chatting to him like they were a smitten, stargazing couple. But she snapped to alertness and sprung to her feet at the sound of people racing through the woods.

Tensing, Wynter spun to face the new threat. Not more keepers, she quickly realized. Nope, these were residents of the town—including Maxim. And as they took in the scene before them, their lips parted in surprise.

Wynter cleared her throat. “Don’t mind us, we were just leaving.”

*

There was nothing pleasant nor unpleasant about the psychic space Cain found himself in. It was merely a rectangular room that was all white paint and gleaming white floor tiles. There were only two chairs. Lailah sat in one, her posture regal, her smile placid.

His creature eyed her with distaste. Even before she’d played a part in imprisoning Cain, it had never liked her. It saw only weakness when it looked at her. A hypocrite. A backstabber. A person who would do anything—fuck over anyone—to obtain what she wanted and get where she wanted to be.

In that sense, she and Abel deserved each other. Like often called to like, didn’t it?

“I wasn’t so sure you would agree to speak with me,” she said, her voice soft. “We were once friends but, well, that was a long time ago.”

Cain strode toward the empty chair that was positioned opposite her own. “A friend wouldn’t have done any of the things you did, so I’d say that was the wrong choice of word.”

Her smile dimmed. “You left us no choice when it came to the banishment.”

Annoyance spiked through him. “Do not pin the blame for your actions on me. Own them. Or don’t. But do not use me as your scapegoat.”

Her eyes briefly slid to the side, and she rested her clasped hands on her lap. “I did not ask to speak with you so we could rehash the past. The present is my concern, and it should also be yours. This woman you have given sanctuary to … She is not what you think. Her old Priestess, Esther, told you that the land of Aeon is perishing, yes?”

Sitting, he gave a slow nod. “She did.”

“Nothing has been able to fight the blight. It continues to spread like a cancer. More, our people are continuing to fall ill. If it wasn’t for our healers, I suspect that many would be dead.”

Cain said nothing. He simply stared at her, keeping his face blank.

“My people managed to find someone who, like Wynter Dellavale, was brought back from the afterlife using forbidden magick. He examined the decay. He verified that, as we’d come to suspect, the land has been cursed.”

Cain forced himself not to tense.

“We had hoped that the male witch would unravel the hex for us. He was not able to, however.” She paused. “He said that his power was no match for it. That each attempt to snap the threads of the curse achieved only in stretching them—they bounced back into place like elastic every time.”

Impressive. Unheard of—at least for Cain—but impressive.

“I asked how that could possibly be. He said that it wasn’t simply dark magick at work. But he had no clue exactly what else is at work. He was certain of one thing, though. Her life-force is not tied to the curse. Her death would therefore not be enough to undo it.”

Cain was so taken off-guard that he must have betrayed his surprise in some way, because Lailah nodded and said, “Yes, I think we now see what has become clear to me and the other Aeons—Whoever you are harboring is not merely a witch.”

“You’re only just figuring this out?” Cain had sensed that early on. He just had no actual clue what exactly Wynter was. “That was always your problem, Lailah. You never viewed mortals as a threat, so you paid no real attention to them.”

Her mouth tightened for a mere moment. “When I exiled her, she warned me that there would be consequences. It was such a casual warning. Very matter-of-fact.”

“And I’m sure you dismissed it.”

“Having never demonstrated any great displays of power, she’d never given me any reason to assume I should heed her. It wasn’t until it became clear that she is not a simple witch that I recalled how something else happened that day. There was a disturbance in the air that felt … strange. Wrong. Alien. I cannot explain or adequately describe it.”

“And you dismissed that as well,” he guessed.

“I did,” she admitted through gritted teeth. “Perhaps I was right to do so. Perhaps it was nothing. But perhaps it wasn’t. What I am certain of is this: She broke my hold on her mind and body in order to fight one of our keepers and free herself. That is no easy thing. I do not know what exactly Wynter is, but if she was able to hex a place such as Aeon so thoroughly without tying her own life-force to that curse, we have to ask ourselves … What else can she do?”

That was indeed an excellent question. At this point, Cain had a great many questions for his oh-so secretive witch. “It seems that she might be more interesting to have around than I initially thought.”

“Don’t be a fool, Cain. If she can be a threat to Aeon, she can be a threat to Devil’s Cradle. Perhaps even to you.”

“You don’t really believe the latter, but you’re hoping I will. Why? What is it that you want?”

Her face hardened. “I would have thought that was obvious. I want you to surrender her to us. Return your rights to her soul, withdraw your protection. Send her back to Aeon with the conduit and her old coven member.”

“Essentially, you wish me to do you a favor? No, Lailah, I’m not feeling motivated to do that.”

“It would be in your best interests as well as ours. Wynter is a power we don’t understand.”

“You and the other Aeons are all about destroying what you don’t understand,” he said, his voice hardening. “If something doesn’t fit neatly in a box, if you’re not so sure you can effortlessly kill it, you reach the conclusion that it must therefore be eradicated.”

She swallowed. “As I said before, I didn’t request to speak with you so that we could revisit the past—”

“But there are so many parallels, aren’t there? Curses, mysteries, secrets, deaths.”

The fingers on her lap flexed. “Aeon was once your home. Would you truly see it rot away?”

He gave a casual, unbothered shrug. “I don’t really see how it’s my business.”

“How can you not care that you have given sanctuary to someone who is clearly a dark power?”

“I’ve been described as a dark power plenty of times. Maybe you’ve forgotten, Lailah, but Devil’s Cradle goes by another name—the Home of Monsters. What better place for her to live?”

“She knows there is bad history between the Aeons and the Ancients. She is using you. Relying on you to keep her safe. Depending on you to fight at her side if a battle ever began.”

“Considering war again, are you?” Cain truly did hope so.

Lailah’s eyelids dropped slightly. “She must be made to undo what she has done, or Aeon will be no more.”

“You can relocate. It’s not so hard. We all did it. It wasn’t our choice, just as it won’t be yours. And we weren’t too pleased about it, just as you won’t be. But sometimes things simply don’t play out as we’d like them to.”

“Is that what this is about for you? Revenge?”

“Of course.”

She drew in a breath through her nose, and then her face softened into an expression she’d often worn in front of him many years ago. “Cain, please, think of—”

“Switched tactics quickly, didn’t you? Don’t bother playing that card, Lailah. I stopped giving a shit about you long ago.”

She winced. “I didn’t choose Abel over you, if that’s what you think. It wasn’t like that. I chose him because I couldn’t be with you. Your creature would never have accepted me. It didn’t like or trust me.”

“And you later proved that it was right not to. Is this why I’m talking to only you rather than all four ruling Aeons? You all thought that I’d be more likely to agree to cooperate if there was a ‘friendly face?’” Much like they’d thought sending a ‘friendly face’ to Wynter might help their cause. “Let me be very clear. This conversation was a waste of your time. I won’t hand Wynter over to you.”

Lailah’s mouth went flat. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“No.”

“Don’t be so quick to disagree. You have not heard my offer yet.” She seemed utterly convinced he’d fall all over himself to accept it. “Give us Wynter, and we will give you Eve in exchange.”

“No.”

Lailah’s face went slack, and her eyes widened. “No?” she spluttered. “But she is your mother. You spent years demanding to see her.”

“According to Adam, she didn’t want to see me.” Cain knew that wasn’t true, though.

Lailah looked as if she might admit as much, but then she coughed. “That has changed in recent years. Eve misses both you and Seth. I know your brother would very much like to have her at his side. Let’s not pretend you don’t wish to make the trade. I know you do. You simply don’t want to back down so easily.”

“There will be no trade.” He planned to retrieve his mother himself once he was free. “There is only one thing—one—that I want from you and the other Aeons. You already know what that is.”

She averted her gaze. “We cannot grant you your freedom.”

He hadn’t thought for a moment that they would. Because they knew that he and the other Ancients would wreak vengeance. “Then we have nothing further to discuss.”

“We have unless you want war. You would be foolish to take us on. You were powerful once, but being contained has weakened you all over time. None of you would stand a chance against any Aeon, let alone a group of them and whatever army they brought. Don’t put us in this position, Cain. Don’t force our hand. We have left you in peace.”

He barely held back a snarl. “You left us in a cage. You hoped it would send us stir crazy and that we’d destroy each other. You left us to rot. Tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t do the same to your precious land.”

She inched up her chin. “Then you leave us no choice.”

“There you go again pinning the blame for your actions on me. If you instigate a war, it will be your choice. It will also be your mistake. But then, you’re good at making those, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a response, he returned his consciousness to his body.

Cain blinked twice, bringing the room into focus. No one had left, and Maxim was now in the room. Cain flicked the males from Aeon a look and then told his aide, “Show them out.”

Rafe slowly stood. “Will you truly protect Wynter? I know you’re powerful. But will you eventually get tired of people coming for her? Will you one day give her up just to get the Aeons off your back? They’ll kill her if you do. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And they’ll make it hurt.”

“Wynter isn’t going anywhere,” Cain told him. “And those bastards won’t ever get their hands on her.”

Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Tell her I said to take care of herself, and that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect her from Esther’s plans.” He allowed Maxim to lead both him and Griff out of the room.

Dantalion dismissed his own aide and then turned back to Cain. “What did Lailah say?”

“Exactly what I thought she’d say,” replied Cain. “She asked that I surrender Wynter to the custody of the Aeons.”

Azazel’s brows snapped together. “Why would she believe you would do that?”

“Apparently, given the destruction that Wynter has caused, I should consider her a danger to all of us and to our land.”

Dantalion rolled his eyes. “Lailah is foolish if she thought that you’d be so easily manipulated. What else did she say?”

Her life-force is not tied to the curse. Her death would therefore not be enough to undo it.

Cain wouldn’t mention that yet. He needed to speak to Wynter about it first. “She offered to give me Eve if we handed over Wynter in return.”

Azazel frowned. “She actually thought you’d trade her for Eve? Seriously?”

“That makes no sense,” said Dantalion. “Nor does her attempt to cajole you into handing over the witch. Why would we give up the only thing that will lure them here?”

“The Aeons apparently have it in their heads that we’ve weakened in power over the centuries—I chose not to correct her on that,” said Cain. “They also believe we wouldn’t want them to come here; that we’d feel we wouldn’t stand a chance against them. In Lailah’s eyes, I am simply being stubborn and spiteful. She has no idea that in threatening war she gave us exactly what we want.”

Dantalion stilled. “So they will come?”

“They will have to,” said Cain. “Their keepers won’t stand a chance against us alone; they need the aid of Aeons if they are to kill us to get to Wynter.”

A look of grim satisfaction came over Azazel’s face. “Who exactly do you think will come? They won’t all lead the army here.”

“At least one of the ruling Aeons will have to lead them, but I doubt it will be Adam,” said Dantalion. “He only gets his hands dirty if he absolutely has to. Abel is much the same, but he will at the very least send Lailah to do the deed for him. If so, Saul will be here even if only to protect her. She is most likely the only person he cares for.”

Cain nodded. “They always did like fighting beside one another.” The siblings were close, much like Abel and Seth had once been—and that was another reason Cain doubted that Abel would come. The Aeon wouldn’t want to have a direct hand in Seth’s death, because it was Cain who Abel held responsible for Seth’s ‘betrayal.’

Dantalion rubbed at his chin. “We need to call a meeting with the other Ancients and inform them what happened here. I’m happy to hold it at my Keep.”

Cain and Azazel both nodded their assent.

When Maxim returned to the room moments later to inform Cain that the witches were being escorted out of town, Cain asked him, “Is Wynter at the Keep?”

Maxim grimaced. “Probably not, though she assured me that she would head there soon.”

Cain stiffened. “Why are you pulling that face?”

The aide cleared his throat. “I found her, like you asked. She and her coven were in the woods near the lake.” Maxim tugged at his collar. “They, um … they were standing over the dead bodies of several keepers from Aeon. Apparently they stumbled upon them.”

Anger spiked through Cain, tightening his muscles and clenching his jaw.

Dantalion growled. “They dared send keepers here?”

“Was she hurt?” asked Cain.

“She had no lethal wounds,” replied Maxim, “though, if the stains on her tee were anything to go by, her left shoulder and chest suffered bad injuries. She swore they would all be healed by Anabel’s potions. Wynter also said she would meet you at the Keep once she’d showered and changed.”

Azazel rubbed at his jaw. “Do you think Rafe and Griff knew that others had been sent?”

Cain shook his head, silently cursing the Aeons to hell and back.

“You’re certain all the keepers are dead?” asked Azazel. “It would have been nice to have one or two to play with.”

“Oh, they are definitely dead,” Maxim told him.

Cain drew in a breath through his nose. “It’s almost as if danger finds that coven wherever they go.”

“Or as if Wynter’s a magnet for it.” Dantalion shrugged at Cain. “After all, she attracts you. You’re probably the biggest danger there is.”

That wasn’t something that could be denied.