Page 41 of Just a Little Wicked (Wicked Sisters #2)
Erikson
Can you make sure she’s all right?
Missy
Who?
Erikson
Seriously?
Missy
Just messing with you. I don’t know why you think she’d open up to me. But if you’re asking if she’s physically all right, then yes.
C onnor handed Erikson a pillow and a stack of blankets. “It’s a little short,” he said, eying the worn, plaid couch that faced Prickles’ enclosure. The little hedgehog poked his nose through a layer of fresh wood shavings and twitched it in their direction. “Sorry.”
Erikson shrugged. “We’ve had worse accommodations.” Like the time they’d slept in a Welsh cottage that was so close to the sea they were misted through the cracks in the walls the entire night. Or they time they’d slept on haybales in an open field and woke with a layer of snow on them.
“So,” Connor said casually, leaning against the wall while Erikson made up the couch.
The aunts, along with Winter and her sisters, had already gone to bed, leaving a lamp glowing in the corner of the living room.
The wind howled and rattled the windows, and Erikson was 95% certain it was natural and not a result of Holly’s distress.
Thankfully, the old house was sturdy, and the Celeste women had packed the living room with books and knick-knacks in a way that should have been chaotic, but instead was cozy and endearing in face of the weather. “That didn’t go well.”
“Oh, do you mean the part where you opened your big mouth and freaked out the strongly independent woman by telling her she was my soulmate? Do you mean the moment where she realized that being soulmates implies she has no say in her own destiny, so she basically told me to fuck off?”
Connor’s gray eyes traveled over his face. “Yup, that’s what I mean. You should have been the one to tell her.”
“Yes, I should have been. And I was going to in my own time. The last thing she needed to hear right now was shit about sharing a soul. She’s got bigger problems.”
“I disagree. I think it’s all connected.”
Erikson dropped the pillow on the couch and glared at his older brother, ignoring the fact that he’d said those very words to Winter before. “Not everything is a web.”
“Most things are.”
“You’re annoying me. Don’t you have groom things to do? Go shave that scruff.”
Connor ran a palm over his shaded jaw. “We’re postponing the wedding.”
It was the reasonable course of action and Erikson would have done the same in their situation, but it still sucked. He sat on the cushion and planted his elbows on his knees. “In Winter’s vision you were getting married.”
“I will marry Holly. She’s the love of my life, so the vision isn’t wrong.” He gazed into the shadows of the room for a moment and then said, “The sisters are equally powerful, so why focus on Winter?”
It took Erikson a moment to register the abrupt subject change, but bouncing back to the problem at hand was very much a Connor thing to do.
When it came to mysteries that needed to be solved, Connor was a like a dog with a bone.
“We talked about this. If they can put Winter on a leash, then they can come after Holly and Missy without forewarning.”
Connor nodded thoughtfully. “I have a theory.”
“I figured you would.”
“Why not just kill Winter?”
Erikson straightened, the fine hairs on the back of his neck lifting. “ Excuse me? ”
“Why didn’t the Shadow Council murder her like they did her mother? If she’s dead she can’t see the future. But instead, they’re planting visions, giving her ultimatums, and trying to manipulate her.”
“They don’t want her dead because . . . they need her,” Erikson said, realization dawning. “They covet power, but they wouldn’t let that stop them from eliminating her if they felt she was a threat. They need her specific talent. They need her to foresee something.”
“They already have a seer strong enough to plant visions.”
Silence stretched between them while Connor waited for Erikson’s brain to catch up. When it finally did, he sucked in air.
“ Shit . They don’t need a vision of the future, they need something from the past.” It was so obvious that Erikson wanted to kick himself for not having seeing it.
Connor nodded. “My guess is that some sort of knowledge or secret was lost in time and they believe only Winter can recover it.”
“How could they know she’s recently developed pastsight?”
“I doubt they do, but they know she’s the strongest seer to exist in centuries, so if anyone could see into the past, it would be her.”
Erikson rubbed the spot between his brows, a headache forming. “Did Holly meet with Stacy today?”
“Briefly. Then Stacy left to visit an elder Witch who she thinks might have some useful knowledge. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” Erikson dropped his hands. “I’m not letting them take her, Con.”
The soft lamp illuminated the deep gray of Connor’s eyes. “Of course not.”
“I’m not supernatural. In a fight, the Shadow Council will decimate me, but I’ll go down trying.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not just you.
I’m with you, always. Holly will start an apocalyptic hurricane before she lets them take her sister, and I’m terrified of what Missy can do with her diseases.
I don’t believe any of the Celeste women have fully discovered the extent of their powers, but they will if the Shadow Council pushes them too far.
On top of it all, Stacy is rallying the Witches.
The Shadow Council fucked up big time when they decided to come after our family. ”
Erikson leaned back, the weight on his shoulders slightly less crushing. He’d succumbed to the same folly Winter had when she thought she had to fight the tough things on her own. Connor was there for him, and Winter’s family was there for her. They didn’t have to do this alone.
Connor grabbed a pillow that had fallen to the floor and threw it at Erikson’s face. Erikson caught it before it made contact and propped it on the arm of the couch. “Get some sleep,” Connor said, moving to the doorway. “Big day tomorrow.”
Right. Tomorrow was the last full day the Shadow Council had given Winter before she had to join them, which meant it was also their last day to figure out how they were going to tell the Shadow Council to screw themselves and live to tell the tale.
Winter barely slept. Although she typically liked her own space, she was keenly aware of Erikson sleeping on the couch in her living room, and found herself missing the sound of his steady breathing that she’d somehow already grown accustomed to during their short time together.
When the first rays of sunlight peeked through her partially-closed curtains, she rolled onto her back and stared at the popcorn ceiling.
Unlike Holly’s bedroom, which had artful black-and-white photos and funky apple-crate furniture; and Missy’s room, which was a tornado of clothing and colors; Winter’s bedroom was nearly empty.
Some people might even call it bare. Winter called it soothing.
Her visions were colorful, bloody, and chaotic.
In contrast, the cool white walls of her room were serene.
The plainness was her sanctuary, the only accents in the room the dark wood furniture and candles.
She wondered what Erikson would think of her space.
He’d probably tease her and say he always expected an Elf to have snow-white walls.
Groaning, she turned over and punched her pillow.
How dare he withhold information from her, like she was some hysterical woman-child who needed a big, strong man to make her decisions?
His reasons for not sharing his theory didn’t matter—what mattered was that she’d had a right to know.
Hearing his voice tell her she wasn’t ready to hear it made her blood boil all over again.
It was early enough that everyone else was still sleeping, so she took a quick shower and slipped down the back stairwell to avoid the living room, exiting at the rear of the house.
She exhaled into the crisp morning air, her breath clouding.
On either side of her, rows of apple trees undulated in waves of bare branches glittering with frost. Brown, frozen grass crunched beneath her boots as she drifted toward the barn.
A chickadee chattered, and she watched with amusement as a cardinal and two other birds landed beside it on an old stump where Holly had dumped birdseed.
They squawked and bickered, and then flew off when a fat gray squirrel joined and started stealing the food.
The sharp and angry points of her soul began to soften. Wicked Good Apples always had that effect on her. This place, no matter how much she wished to leave it sometimes, was as firmly lodged in her heart as her own ventricles.
Winter’s still-damp hair was frozen by the time she reached the barn.
The small, seasonal apple shop was on the lower floor, separated from storage by walls Winter had built herself.
Upstairs was the loft where Holly painted her weather-related horrors.
Winter veered into the shop and started the coffee machine that they heavily relied on during the fall season when they were the busiest. With a steaming cup in hand, she went back outside to sit on the cold, granite barn steps and finish watching the sun rise, the pinks and yellows silhouetting the trees in the distance.
“I’m sorry.”
Winter took another sip before deigning to shift her attention to the solid form of Erikson, who’d materialized in front of her.
He was wearing a black winter jacket and faded jeans, but his baseball cap was absent.
Morning light gently touched his golden hair, even as the shadows of night still clung to him.
She stared at him blankly. “Sorry for what?”