Page 60 of The Wicked In Me


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“They wish me to remind you that they gave you mercy all those years ago. They could have killed you; they didn’t. You owe them for that, they said.”

Anger coursed through him and put a rock in his gut. “Owe them?” he echoed, his tone silky smooth. “Do you hear that, Azazel? We owe them.”

The porch floorboards creaked and then … “Yeah, I heard.”

Esther’s eyes flew to something behind Cain. “Ah, there you are. It is time to come home, Wynter.”

“Aeon isn’t my home,” Wynter said, no inflection in her voice, as she and Azazel moved to flank Cain.

Esther’s eyes flared. “It will be no one’s home if you do not fix what you have done.”

Wynter snorted. “You can’t tell me that the big, bad Aeons are struggling to handle a little environmental erosion, surely.”

She scanned the sea of faces, taking in the hard expressions, marveling at how—despite all they’d done—it still hurt that they’d so easily banded against her. But then, she’d been an outsider to them since she was ten years old. It was now simply official. Rafe’s absence did lessen the sting slightly.

She cocked her head. “Did you know that the exiled are killed before they can even reach the border?”

Surprise rippled across many faces, including that of Esther.

“Ah, you didn’t. Well, let me tell you … there’s no memory-wipe process. They’re paralyzed and then thrown over the falls.”

“That is a lie,” Esther insisted.

“No, it’s not. The banished die.”

“If that were true, you would not be alive.”

“If it wasn’t true, I’d have no memories. But I do. I live because I managed to escape Wagner.” And then … well, she was pretty sure her monster ate most if not all of him, but that was a whole other story. That same monster was currently watching Esther closely, entertaining the many—and very creative—ways it would make her suffer.

Esther shook her head, dismissing Wynter’s claims with ease, and said, “I have no time for this. I do not know what you did with that death magick of yours, but you need to come home and reverse whatever spell you cast.”

Wynter pursed her lips. “Yeah, nah.”

“Youwillreturn to Aeon, and you will do soimmediately.”

“It’s like you’ve forgotten that you’re not my Priestess anymore. Weird.”

“Wynter—”

“The only way I’m leaving Devil’s Cradle is if I have no choice but to go. And the only person who can force me to leave is Cain.” Feeling like a cold fist was wrapped tight around her heart, Wynter met his dark, currently unreadable gaze. “Do you want me gone?” If he said yes, he wassodead.

His brow inched up, imperious. “You and I have a deal, remember?” He cut his eyes back to Esther. “Wynter stays here.”

And the cold fist released her heart.

The Priestess gritted her teeth. “The Aeons—”

“—are not who you think they are,” Cain told her. “Notice that they didn’t come here themselves. This is a dangerous place. You are their people. But they insisted onyoufacing the danger, not them.”

“This is unhallowed ground,” said Esther. “They cannot step foot on it.”

Cain felt his lips twitch. “Is that what they told you?”

Azazel chuckled. “Such story spinners.”

Cain dismissively flicked a hand and half-turned away from the coven. “Return to your rotting home. Tell the Aeons that Wynter will remain here.”

“You cannot possibly be willing to risk their wrath over this,” Esther insisted. “She is a mere witch. No one important. Her magick is impure, twisted—”

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