Page 25 of Just a Little Wicked (Wicked Sisters #2)

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Sorry, I’m back now. I didn’t get a chance to warn you—I got the feeling when asking around that Atlantes might be a little . . . territorial.

T his was not going well.

Winter felt like her organs were trying to escape her body, and yet the Witch seemed entirely unaffected by her presence except for the small frown line between his brows. Either he was infinitely stronger than she was, or he was much better at hiding the effects that she had on him.

His magic pulsed closer, sending another wave of nausea tearing through her. She vaguely registered that Erikson’s hand was on her back and he was glaring at Atlantes like he was two seconds from dragging him off the deck and knocking his teeth out.

“Cut it out,” Erikson growled. “We’re only here to talk.”

Atlantes didn’t lower his palm. In fact, the swell of magic inched closer. A kernel of anger heated beneath Winter’s breastbone. There was no need for him to be pushing this level of magic on her.

“I’ve felt her presence since yesterday. She’s a threat to every living creature in this area.” The shimmery shield rippled in agitation. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

“We need your help,” she gasped.

He scoffed. “I would never help a Wicked. Leave, and don’t come back.” He started to turn away, but Erikson stepped forward.

“You need to hear her out.”

“I don’t.”

“Here’s the thing,” Erikson said scornfully, “I’d happily never set eyes on your dickhead face again, but Winter needs your help. We need your help, or people are going to die. You can at least listen to what she has to say.”

If possible, Atlantes’ eyes turned frostier. “I don’t care about Wicked deaths.”

Erikson snarled in outrage. “You fucking piece of—” He stepped through the magical shield onto the stairs.

The iridescent bubble shimmered, allowing him entrance, only to immediately trap him in place.

He froze, one knee bent on the steps, his fists clenched.

His entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, like he was being electrocuted.

Sweat slid down his temples and the cords of his neck stood out to the point where they looked like they were going to burst.

“What are you doing to him?” Winter shrieked. She reached for Erikson’s arm, but the magic forcefully repelled her backwards. “You’re hurting him! Stop it!”

Atlantes watched both of them with a dispassionate gaze, and that ember of rage behind Winter’s breastbone exploded into a roaring inferno.

Erikson Grimm was a giant pain in her ass, but he was her pain in the ass.

Winter very rarely let anyone into her inner circle, but when she did, she protected them at all costs.

Somehow, Erikson had wriggled his way inside that circle.

She was barely aware of her fury incinerating the chains she used to tightly bind her Wickedness, but the instant it did, dark and silky power coated her tongue and then surged into her bloodstream, fast and forceful, a tsunami of power tunneling through her veins and tingling in her fingers.

She acted on pure instinct, lifting her hands and forcing all of that Wicked power through her palms and into the bubble shield with the finesse of a battering ram.

Power pulsed from her palms in clouds of dark ink, tendrils rapidly spiraling out from the source, swallowing Atlantes’ magic shield.

Consuming it. Devouring it until nothing remained.

Erikson sagged, taking a deep breath of relief. “Thanks Win, I— shit . Winter?”

She couldn’t stop. Her power finished draining the magic shield around the outside of the house, and then the magic within the house, devouring the rainbow light like it was the ambrosia of gods.

The beast that was her Wickedness, never fully unleashed like this, hungered for more, and more, and more.

Erikson was speaking, and she could only vaguely make out his words: “Your eyes are completely black. Come back to me.”

A part of her heard him and wanted to heed, but the Wickedness that she’d kept restrained rebelled at being suppressed again.

Winter knew in her rational mind what was happening.

The same thing had once happened to Holly when she’d banished the ghost from their orchards.

Holly had loosed her wickedness, and it had nearly consumed her.

Winter was aware she was out of control, but she had no practice in wielding or recalling her power—only stifling it.

This was why she never let herself go. This was why she had to remain in control of herself at all times.

She was living, breathing destruction.

Even as she had the thought, the silky Wickedness inside her whispered that she was wrong, that she’d been denying her true self for too long. She was meant to be so much more than an apple farm manager using all of her energy to block visions. She could rule the world if she so chose.

She threw her head back and screamed as more power spilled from her like ink pouring from an endless well, consuming and spreading outward in waves.

The relief of destroying something was nothing like the punishment she felt when she used her powers for good. It felt . . . glorious . Her cheeks flushed with health, her eyes sparkled, and contentment spread through her blood.

“Foolish Wicked!” A deep voice sounded near her ear as two palms wrapped around her upper arms. Instantly everything inside her deadened.

Her power winked out of existence; the ever-present dark flame that flickered in her soul entirely extinguished.

She was plunged into the dull existence of complete and utter humanity.

She blinked rapidly and sucked in air. When she was able to focus, her eyes met Atlantes’, his hands still wrapped around her upper arms. They were both trembling, his nostrils flaring as he forced himself to keep a grip on her even though it cost them both dearly.

In this moment, she was without power and he without magic, his good canceling out her evil until they were both half the people they were born to be.

“ Fuck ,” Atlantes hissed between his teeth. “You shouldn’t be powerful enough to completely extinguish my magic. My god. What are you?”

“If you’d listened to her none of this would have happened,” Erikson snapped from behind her. She felt his warmth at her back, his body offering heat to her aching emptiness.

“I . . . I’m okay now,” Winter said, her teeth chattering. Never in her life had she had her powers annulled, and it was not a pleasant feeling. “Let me go.”

But he didn’t. “You blew out half my fucking network!”

How had she done that? Winter’s powers had only ever manifested as visions. Whatever she’d just done had been something else entirely. It was like her power had swept out from her, a visible and destructive cloud of hunger.

She gritted her teeth. Just last night Aunt Daisy and Aunt Rose had warned her something like this might happen, but she’d thought they meant it might happen years in the future, not the next day .

It was like the growth of her powers had exponentially accelerated over the past few months, and she couldn’t figure out why.

“You deserved it,” she snapped through chattering teeth. “You hurt my friend.”

Atlantes frowned down at her, and she noticed flecks of gold in his shockingly green eyes. “Message received, Wicked. Trust me, I won’t ever fuck with what’s yours again. But you are far too powerful to be out of control like that. What half-wit raised you to be so careless?”

Winter yanked herself from his hold hard enough that she stumbled backwards into Erikson. Instantly her powers sprang to life inside her, but they felt normal. Manageable. “Screw you! I’d rather work for the Shadow Council than deal with your bullshit.”

Atlantes’ pallor improved the instant she pulled away from him, his olive flush returning and a soft, sparkling magic racing across his skin.

But at hearing the name Shadow Council , his pupils expanded and he stiffened in a menacing way that made her fists bunch.

She felt Erikson react behind her too, and knew they were both sensing the volatile danger roiling inside the Witch.

“What did you just say?” His voice was so deadly that chills sprang up her arms. Winter very rarely met her equivalent in power, but she knew without a doubt that she had with Atlantes. The difference was he clearly knew how to use his.

“I think it’s time we go inside and talk,” Erikson said calmly, his hand sliding up Winter’s arm and cupping her shoulder. His grounding touch was exactly what she needed in that moment, so she left his hand in place.

Atlantes stared at her another few seconds before giving a sharp nod and spinning on his heel. “Follow me. You should be able to tolerate being inside now; it will take me time to rebuild my magical defenses after you obliterated them in ten seconds flat.”

“Again, it was no less than what you deserved,” she said, climbing the steps behind him.

Not only were his shields down, but both her power and Atlantes’ magic would take time to return to their former strengths, which meant she should able to stand his presence for a short time without wanting to puke.

“She’s protective of her man,” Erikson said at her side, winking down at her.

Winter sighed. He was incorrigible, which meant there was no point in admonishing him.

Atlantes opened the front door and walked through, almost letting the door slam in her face.

Winter scowled and kicked it open, allowing it to bounce off the log-wall interior.

She hated that his house was nice. It was an incongruous mix of coastal charm, with warm exposed oak beams and navy upholstery, and the most up-to-date technology.

Blue lights flashed everywhere: on towers, on computers, and on the ceiling.

It smelled of sea air and pine, a not unpleasant combination.

She’d been expecting it to smell like his attitude: surly and rank.

Atlantes stomped around the kitchen table, a half-hewn masterpiece that still had varnished bark clinging to the sides, and sat on the bench and took a sip of his previously abandoned coffee. It smelled amazing, but did he offer them any? No.

The open kitchen/dining/living area allowed Winter to sit on a navy couch as far from the Witch as possible. Erikson sprawled out in a chair between the two of them, deliberately taking up space and deploying that charming smile of his. “Now, this is much more cordial,” he drawled.

Both Atlantes and Winter glared at him.

A clock ticked over the kitchen table: a black background with silver hands. Everything in the house screamed quiet wealth, and Winter wondered just how much being a Pillar Witch paid. He’d claimed she’d blown out “half his network.” What did that mean? Did it have anything to do with his job?

“Speak,” Atlantes ordered.

Winter chafed at the order. He wanted her to talk? Fine. She’d talk. “What’s a Pillar Witch?”

His jaw slackened for a moment. “Where did you hear about that?”

“I have a Witch friend.”

“Name?

Winter smirked. “Nice try. What is it?”

“What it is, is none of your business. At least your Witch friend had the sense to keep that much to his or herself. Is that why you came all this way? Simple curiosity and the fun of wreaking mayhem?”

“What’s your problem with me?” she demanded.

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Where do I start? You’re a Wicked. You destroyed something that will take me weeks to rebuild. You have no control over yourself.”

The no control thing stung. Winter was nothing but controlled. She’d reacted out of instinct to keep Atlantes from hurting Erikson. How was she to know that her power would run away from her?

“I have control.”

“Yes, your little display out there proved that.”

“Moving on,” Erikson said, his voice tighter than before. “We get it, Witches and Wickeds are mortal enemies now, yadda yadda. We came here for another reason.”

“Right.” Atlantes leaned back and tapped a finger on his mug. “The Shadow Council.”

He was trying to affect a casual air, but Winter could almost taste the tension in his magic as it flared toward her, sending a surge of nausea up her throat.

She had no desire to confide in this jerk, but he was definitely the man in her vision, down to the bad attitude and unnaturally green eyes.

If he could possibly help them, then she needed to swallow her pride.

“What do you know about the Shadow Council?” she asked.

“Enough.”

The word was so bitter, so tinged with rage, that she knew he spoke the truth.

“The Shadow Council killed my mother. She wanted a different life for Wickeds, and they murdered her for it. Now they’re going to slaughter the rest of my family unless I agree to work for them.”

At her poorly concealed fury, the suspicion in Atlantes’ eyes cleared.

For a moment he only gazed at her, assessing her as if he could see through her skull and into her soul.

The clock ticked loudly in the silence. Finally, he grunted.

“I suppose you and I have something in common after all, Wicked. The Shadow Council murdered my mother too.”