Doing a languid stretch, Wynter glanced at the shelf on the shed wall. She was almost all out of reversal potions. Again. Well, it had been a long day, and she’d had a tricky customer who’d asked her to edit the runes on his dagger four times before he’d been satisfied with the results.
She’d originally thought that people’s interest in enchanting weapons would decrease once the novelty of it wore off. But she still had a steady stream of customers. Some even came with cutlery or jewelry. And once the shapeshifting beings learned that she could also put runes on claws, some had come seeking such a service.
The rest of her crew were doing just as well. Xavier, being such an expert at divination, had plenty of regular clients who liked to have weekly readings. Many people stopped by of a morning to pick up baked goods from Hattie. Anabel’s potions practically flew off the shelves on a daily basis, since she had such a massive selection. And Delilah’s cosmetics remained highly popular—particularly her gift sets.
In sum, their homerun shop was still doing well. Which still supremely irritated many of the local businesses. Some had had the downright gall to attempt to replicate both Anabel and Delilah’s brews, though they’d had little success.
Still, both females were furious that others would try to steal their ideas and products. It had taken Wynter a good fifteen minutes to talk the nutcases out of cooking up their own improved versions of Molotov cocktails for Xavier—who’d happily volunteered his services—to sling through their windows … all while Hattie walked around demanding to know who’d hidden her copy of Fifty Shades of Grey because she still hadn’t yet located it.
Wynter had managed to distract them by relaying Cain’s response to Ishtar’s visit. Delilah had crowed about being right that Ishtar’s actions were motivated by both her hurt ego and how threatened she felt by Wynter’s involvement with Cain. The crew felt uneasy on hearing that he hadn’t addressed the claim Ishtar made that the Aeons had something he wanted. Wynter hadn’t felt too great about it either, but she skirted shit all the time to preserve her own secrets, so she had no right to press him.
Her stomach rumbling, Wynter grabbed her empty mug and set of keys. It was time to lock up and—
An otherworldly breeze slammed into her body, vibrating with urgency and a warning of danger. She heard a heel scuff the floor a mere millisecond before pain lanced through her back and chest. Sucking in a sharp breath, she glanced down. Shock and panic zipped up her spine. No. No, that was not a sword sticking out of her body.
Except it was.
And it had penetrated her heart.
A hiss sounded in her ear. “That’s for my father, you bitch.”
Agony scraped Wynter’s insides like a serrated blade as the sword withdrew from her body. A hand roughly shoved her to the floor, and she was too damn weak to even throw out her hands to catch her weight. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears—slow, erratic, faint.
Footfalls sounded, and then a male spat out a curse. “Annette, what have you done?”
Bowen.
“I did what I had to do,” the woman claimed.
Wynter’s heart stuttered to a stop, and darkness swallowed her.
*
Cain kept his expression blank as Ishtar swanned into Seth’s drawing room with an overly bright smile on her face. Well, of course she was smiling, and of course said smile held a hint of smugness. Given that Seth had invited her here, she probably thought that his brother had ‘come round’ and wanted to revisit old times. She’d soon be disabused of that theory, because he was just as pissed as Cain about the shit she’d pulled with Wynter.
“Seth, darling,” she all but sang. Her step faltered when she noticed Cain standing in front of the fireplace, but then her smile widened. “Well, hello, you. I get to have quality time with both brothers. How lovely.” She elegantly lowered herself to the spot on the sofa beside Seth, her brow wrinkling at the hard look he wore. “Whatever has gotten into you?”
“Tell me something, Ishtar,” said Cain, “did you really think that urging Wynter to run to Seth to seek refuge from me would work?”
Ishtar’s smile melted away. “She told you, I see.” The Ancient spoke as if Wynter was a petty child who ran off to tell tall tales to her parents.
“She chose to fairly give me the chance to speak in my own defense,” said Cain, purposely vague. Any conversations he had with Wynter weren’t Ishtar’s business.
The Ancient’s upper lip quivered. “And you fooled her into believing she matters to you.”
Cain took a menacing step forward. “I told you to leave her be.”
“You also insisted that she was under the protection of every Ancient. That therefore includes me. I did what was fair and just. You know that well. Or do you have it in your head that she doesn’t deserve to be protected from you? From how you are toying with her affections to keep her close?”
“Don’t claim you did anything but act in your own selfish, petty interests. You care nothing for Wynter’s feelings. What is ‘fair’ to her has no relevance to you. You would not give a damn if I was ‘toying with her affections.’ Which I’m not.”
Ishtar flapped a dismissive hand. “Anyone can see that you are using her. Except for her, apparently—she stupidly trusts your word. Well, if you are looking for an apology from me, you will not get one. Twist my actions if you must, but I did what I thought was right.”
“Right for who?” Seth cut in. “You, I’m guessing. You certainly didn’t do right by Cain or Wynter. And don’t for one moment think we’ll truly believe otherwise. Cain’s not twisting your actions. You are. But then, I suspected you would. Gaslighting is something you seem to enjoy.”
“Do not cast me into the role of ‘villain,’” she said, her tone tart. “Pretend to care about the witch’s itty bitty feelings if you wish. But if you truly did care, you would be hesitant about using her as bait to lure the Aeons here. You would be second-guessing your decision. You’re not, though, are you? No. Face it, we are all using her to get what we want. She will realize that eventually, Cain. Then she will turn on you.”
Wynter had been right, he realized. Ishtar viewed her as a silly, naïve girl. She didn’t see that his little witch was as ruthless as they were. She didn’t see that Wynter would find some satisfaction in being the bait that lured the Aeons to their death, considering they’d blessed the execution of her mother.
Oh, Wynter might not be so pleased that no one had shared this with her. But if there was one person who understood the need for secrets, it was her—she had plenty of her own. She wouldn’t turn on him for holding certain things back from her.
“Does it not bother you that you’re a person who’d find so much satisfaction in seeing Cain suffer in any way?” Seth asked Ishtar. “You weren’t always so wrapped up in your own feelings that those of others rarely mattered to you. You’ve changed over time. You lost pieces of yourself somewhere along the way.”
Ishtar’s eyes glimmered with annoyance. “You like to think you are so much better than the rest of us, don’t you?”
Seth’s expression tightened. “Do not insinuate that my being different means I am not a true part of the circle. And do not think you can change the subject so easily, or that Cain and I don’t have a right to our anger.”
“You are both being dramatic and you know it.”
“Dramatic? You urged Wynter to not only run from him but to run to me. You didn’t care that it might have caused trouble between myself and Cain. You didn’t care how it would have made him feel. You didn’t care about anything but soothing your wounded ego. You want Wynter to reject him just as he rejected you. How much of a hypocrite does that make you, given you reject people all the time? You never care how those men feel about it. You’d never believe they have a right to be angry with you for turning them away.”
“Mortals, I turn mortals away,” she specified. “I made the mistake of getting a little too attached to one of them once-upon-a-time, as you may recall. I offered him immortality. He refused, and so I lost him. I had to watch him grow old with another. I will not put myself in that position again.”
“On the surface, it sounds like a tragic love story in which you were an innocent victim,” said Seth. “Maybe you did love him in your way. But if so, it was a selfish love. You hadn’t offered to make him your consort. You wouldn’t even consent to exclusivity. You expected him to be faithful to you, but you wouldn’t offer him that same loyalty. The main reason you wanted him was that he was so desired by everyone in the city. You treated him poorly, like a mere shiny bauble, and you know it.”
She looked from Seth to Cain, sneering. “As if either of you are better in how you treat your bedpartners. Neither of you agreed to exclusivity when I requested it.”
“Because you wouldn’t agree for that to be a two-way street,” Seth reminded her. “I wasn’t interested in offering you more commitment than you would offer me. I suspect the same applied with you and Cain. But I won’t ask him for clarification on that because, again, you’re simply trying to change the subject.”
“No, this topic is very much related to Wynter.” She glared at Cain, her chin jutting out. “You may treat her well, but you do it for the wrong reasons—to appease her, to keep her sweet, to give her a false picture of yourself.”
“If you truly believed I held so little regard for her, you wouldn’t care about my involvement with her,” said Cain. “You see that she matters to me, and you don’t like it.”
Ishtar shook her head. “You may have fooled her into believing she is important to you, but you will not make me believe that.”
“I don’t care what you do or don’t believe.” Cain took yet another step closer to her. “All I want is to make one thing perfectly clear.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m to stay away from the witch, I suppose.”
A growl built in Cain’s throat. “Do not cross me on this, Ishtar. You will not hurt what’s mine; I absolutely forbid it.”
She pinned him with a furious glare. “What’s yours?”
“Yes, mine. Wynter belongs to me.”
“Your monster—”
“Would wipe your existence from this planet if you took her from it,” he finished, his tone clipped. “I am not fucking around here, Ishtar. She is off-limits to you in every respect.”
Her eyes hardened to stone. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it is. No more games, no more visits to her house, no more making this about you. I won’t allow it. Work through whatever shit is going on in your head, and move on. If you don’t, if you ever again try to fuck with her, I will return the favor. You know I don’t make empty threats. Focus on your own life and stay out of mine.”
Her face red, she slowly stood, the image of composure. She sauntered to the door and swung it open, but then her gaze flicked back to Cain. “Such a shame that mortals have a short lifespan, isn’t it? Oh, I’m sure it feels long to them. But, really, their lives are over in a blink. You won’t keep her for long, Cain. You won’t want to. She appeals to you now, but it will not last. She will soon show signs of age that repulse you.”
Seth exhaled heavily. “Ishtar—”
Ignoring him, she continued speaking to Cain. “I will not kill her because I need her alive if I am to get what I seek. But something will kill her eventually. Age, illness, an accident, an attack. Mortals are so fragile. Any number of things can erase them from this world, and it can happen at any moment. So be braced to lose her, because you will. And you will not get her back. An undead soul can return to a body only once. After that, it is game over. They never come back again.”
*
Fuuuuck, that hurt.
Wynter hated dying. She really did. It never hurt any less. Temporarily landing in the netherworld wasn’t much fun either—there was nothing pleasant about that place. But on returning, she’d always find that any wounds she’d suffered were healed. It always took a few minutes for her strength to fully return, though.
“What are you even doing here, Bowen?” a voice hissed. Ah, dear Annette. And she had company, it would seem.
Wynter had to give it to the woman, she’d taken her by surprise. It wasn’t the first time Wynter had been impaled on a sword, but it was the first time someone had done it from behind.
“I saw you sneak out of the house with a damn sword,” began Bowen, “I had a feeling you were coming here.”
Remaining still while her body regained strength, Wynter lifted her eyelids just enough to peek at the berserkers who stood a few feet away. If it wasn’t for the subtle breeze dancing over her skin in caution, her inner monster would have lunged at the little fuckers and ripped them apart by now.
Bowen thrust a hand through his hair. “You’ll be the number one suspect when she’s found dead. Dammit, Annette, you’re smarter than this.”
Wynter would have to disagree.
Annette’s hand flexed around the hilt of her bloodstained sword. “My father is dead.”
“And, what … you thought this would change that?” Bowen sniped.
“So you plan to kill Cain as well?”
“You know I can’t do that. But I can kill the little bitch who snitched on my dad and had him thrown into a pit of snakes, so I did.”
Bowen looked at her like she was insane. “And you think Cain will let this go? You think you won’t meet the same end?”
She snorted. “Like I’m dumb enough to stick around. I moved my car from the warehouse and left it outside the tunnel that leads to Devil’s Cradle. A bag of my stuff is in the trunk.”
“At least you have some plan in your head, even if it is pointless.”
“Pointless?”
“Annette, you killed the property of an Ancient without permission,” he said slowly, as if talking to a child. “That leads to death every single time. You will be hunted for the rest of your days. Someone will eventually find you and drag you back here.”
She gave her head a dismissive shake. “I know how to lie low.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your days are now officially numbered.” He swore. “I can’t believe you did this. You think this is what your father would have wanted? Really?”
She snapped her mouth shut and then shrugged. “What’s done is done.”
Groaning, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “If Cain ever realizes I let you go, not even my being Azazel’s aide will save my ass.”
She tensed, her grip on her sword tightening. “Are you thinking of turning me in?”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “No, of course not. You’re my damn niece. But you have officially fucked us both.”
“He’s right, you know,” Wynter cut in, pushing to her feet, a little dizzy but otherwise fine.
Both berserkers gawked at her.
Annette’s gaze dipped to the massive bloodstain on Wynter’s tee. “You … there’s no way you … I killed you, I know I did.”
“Yeah, you did.” Wynter cricked her neck. “I tend not to stay dead.”
The assholes continued to quite simply stare at her, as if struggling to process the situation. Annette’s hands soon began to tremble, and the color started to leave Bowen’s face. Understandable, really. Even in the world of preternaturals, beings that didn’t stay dead were considered fucking weird. Unnatural. Generally unwelcome.
Swallowing hard, Bowen backed toward the door.
A wind thick with rage swept around the room, slamming the shed door shut.
Wynter smiled at him. “I wouldn’t bother trying to run. She won’t let you leave.”
Annette raised her sword and prepared herself to lunge. Wynter didn’t get a chance to intervene. The hilt glowed red, and a sizzling sound filled the room. Annette dropped the weapon to the floor with a loud cry, shaking her blistering hand. A low, dark, otherworldly laugh bounced off the walls.
Bowen’s fearful gaze darted around the shed. “What was … who … ” He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists. “What the fuck is happening here?”
Annette licked her lips, plastering herself against the wall behind her. “You need to let us go.”
Wynter pursed her lips. “No, I really don’t.”
“You can’t kill us,” Bowen insisted. “If you do, you’ll die—the Ancients who own the rights to our souls will see to that.”
“Oh, I’m not planning to kill you,” said Wynter. “But I need you both gone from here. I mean, I can’t have you telling people that I came back to life. It’s not the sort of thing people are comfortable hearing.”
“We won’t tell anybody, we swear,” Bowen vowed, and his niece nodded frantically.
Wynter grimaced. “The thing is … you’re not exactly people whose word will mean shit to me. One of you killed me, and the other had no issues with abetting my killer. Plus, well, I’m feeling a little vengeful right now. The cool thing is I don’t need to kill you to send you to the netherworld. I can open a path to that dimension and trap you both there for as long as I like. You’ll be wandering through it with no chance of rebirth because you won’t be truly dead.”
Bowen blanched but shook his head. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” Wynter smiled. “An interesting thing about the netherworld … is that its timeline isn’t parallel or even in sync with that of this dimension. A minute here can be like a month there, or even a year, or maybe a millisecond. Fascinating, right?”
Annette began to shake, scratching at the wall behind her.
“It ain’t a nice place. All cold air and dark mists. It’s almost impossible to see anything, but you can hear everything. Screams. Snarls. Growls. Roars. There’s so much fear and pain. It’s all about beating souls down as part of the purification process; breaking them and then building them back up to cleanse the soul of sin, making them fit to be reborn.
“Now, as you both won’t actually be dead, you might be spared the pain—I really can’t be sure. I can be sure that, in any event, the experience will be worse than whatever the Ancients might have put you through. That makes me feel better about what you two fucks just did.”
Bowen’s breaths began coming hard and fast. “You’re lying, you can’t really do that, you can’t—”
The floor beneath them darkened and began to ripple like black water.
Annette whimpered. “No.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Wynter. “I’d tell you to just be glad I’m not going to kill you. But, as I think you’ve figured out, there really are worse things than death.”
They sank into the water like hands had yanked them down, along with Annette’s sword. Then the floor returned to normal.
Wynter exhaled heavily. Well, that had been unpleasant. And now it was time for damage control.
She left the shed and walked through the back door of the cottage. Anabel looked up from her cauldron and muttered a quick hey. Slicing vegetables, Hattie tossed Wynter an absent smile. At the table, both Delilah and Xavier offered her a brief nod.
Seconds later, they all froze. And then everyone’s eyes snapped to her bloodstained tee.
“I need a rejuvenating potion, and one of your special bleach brews,” Wynter said to a gaping Anabel.
“What in the world happened?” demanded Delilah.
Wynter lifted her shoulders. “I died. Again. Now, about those potions …”
Everyone started talking at once, firing questions at Wynter. She told them how Annette had attacked her from behind and stabbed right through her heart … at which point Hattie snatched the largest knife from the block and demanded, “Where’s the little bitch?”
Wynter cleared her throat. “Um, the netherworld.” Silence fell. “Well, I couldn’t let them go blabbing, but I also couldn’t kill them—”
“Wait, them?” interrupted Xavier.
“Oh, Bowen was here, too,” Wynter explained. “He wasn’t in on it, but he witnessed what happened and planned to do nothing about it. He intended to help her escape and cover for her. Look, I’m feeling super dizzy, and I have evidence to clean up, so can we maybe get—thank you, Anabel.”
Wynter drank the rejuvenating brew while her crew cursed the berserkers to hell and back. Then, gratefully taking the cleansing potion from Anabel, Wynter returned to the shed and tossed the majority of it over both the pool of blood and the footprints left by both berserkers. Once the floor was completely clear, she dripped the last of the potion onto her tee. The rip remained, but the bloodstain vanished.
“People are going to notice they’re missing,” said Hattie as she and the others entered.
Wynter sighed. “I know. Sticking them in the netherworld was probably shitty, but I didn’t know where else to hide them. And like I said, I couldn’t kill them. This way, if Cain touches her soul or Azazel touches Bowen’s, the Ancients will sense that they’re alive.”
“Which means no one will suspect foul play and, as such, not come knocking on our front door,” said Xavier.
Wynter nodded. “Exactly. Annette actually packed a bag and had a car ready. She told Bowen she left it outside the tunnel. Maybe I could drive it off a cliff or something.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said Delilah. “I can sneak out of the town as a cat. No one will spot me. People might assume that Bowen left with her.”
“Possibly,” said Wynter.
Glancing around, Anabel shuddered. “I can feel the rage in here. Your deity was pissed, huh? I’m surprised your monster didn’t surface and go AWOL.”
“The deity stayed its hand,” Wynter explained.
Each time she felt herself dying, she wondered if it would be the one time that she didn’t come back. But it was always as if something spat her back out of the netherworld. She’d appear there long enough to feel the mists brush her soul, hear broken screams, and catch a glimpse of this or that … and then she’d be back.
Was there anything that could kill her for good? Wynter really didn’t know. She suspected that the Ancients could. They’d at the very least try if they learned what she strove so hard to hide. Which was one of the reasons why being around Cain so much wasn’t smart. It was like flirting with death, in a way. She couldn’t help herself, though. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
He drew her back to him so effortlessly, and it wasn’t simply about sex. It was as if the darkness in him spoke to her own. Attracted it, even. It was hard to explain. But when she’d been involved with other males, she’d always felt like she didn’t ‘fit’ with them. Felt that they were lightyears apart in terms of what sort of people they were.
Cain, though … he was someone who truly knew about darkness. Someone who understood how vengeance could be such a driving force. Someone who made her feel. Really feel.
Fucked up though it might seem, she actually felt comfortable around him on some level. He was dangerous, yes, but so was she. He was capable of extreme cruelty, yes, but again so was she.
If anyone could understand her, if anyone could take her as she was, it would be him. And that was sort of comforting. So it was a real fucking shame that there might come a day when he actively tried to kill her.
