The Wicked In Me

Suzanne Wright lives in England with her husband and two children. When she’s not spending time with her family, she’s writing, reading or doing her version of housework – sweeping the house with a look. She’s worked in a pharmaceutical company, at a Disney Store, at a primary school as a voluntary teaching assistant, at the RSCPA and has a First Class Honours degree in Psychology and Identity Studies. As to her interests, she enjoys reading, writing, reading, writing (sort of eat, sleep, write, repeat), spending time with her family, movie nights with her sisters and playing with her two Bengal kittens. To connect with Suzanne online: Website: http://www.suzannewright.co.uk Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/suzannewrightfanpage Also by Suzanne Wright: THE DARK IN YOU Burn Blaze Ashes Embers Shadows Omens Fallen Reaper Copyright Published by Piatkus ISBN: 978-0-349-43456-8 All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Copyright © Suzanne Wright, 2023 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. Piatkus Little, Brown Book Group Carmelite House 50 Victoria Embankment London EC4Y 0DZ www.littlebrown.co.uk www.hachette.co.uk Contents About the Author Also by Suzanne Wright Title Page Copyright Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Acknowledgements For J, thank you for listening to all my ramblings when I’mhaving my mind-mapping buzz sessions out loud Adopting a stone-cold poker face, Wynter Dellavale struggled to process the disbelief that crawled over her skin. When she’d opened the door to find her Priestess on the doorstep while their coven lingered at the front gate, she’d thought maybe Esther was calling on her to join them all for a late-night ritual or something. But this … no, it couldn’t actually be happening. Nu-uh. Planting her feet, Wynter folded her arms. “This is some kind of messed-up joke, right? Like, you know, humor but sort of … not?” “This isn’t something I would ever joke about.” Esther clasped her hands in front of her, the image of elegance. “We have no choice. A new coven will be selected by one of the ruling Aeons in three days’ time. There is no chance of it being us if we have a weak link. For us, you are that.” Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. Wynter felt a cold smile slowly curve one side of her mouth. The Priestess tensed. Well, Wynter wasn’t exactly known for being a placid, sweet, touchy-feely person. More of a bitey-scratchy girl, really. Her mother used to joke that Wynter came out of the womb flipping the finger and snarling at anyone who dared cuddle her. “I can be described as a lot of things, but not weak,” said Wynter. “In terms of power, no. But having a witch whose magick has been tainted … that is a weakness in the coven.” Tainted. She hated that word. People had been tossing it at her for most of her life. “Wasn’t it you who always told me to rise above my limitations and make them work for me? That they’d only be an obstacle if I allowed it?” The woman’s advice had often carried a condescending note, but still. “Yes, I believe in not permitting obstacles to block our path. And that is what you are, Wynter. An obstacle to this coven’s future prospects. You would have been forced to leave when you turned sixteen if our prior Priestess had not been your grandmother. Agnes could never bring herself to cast you out, but I must. When we moved to this town eighteen years ago, we did it for one reason only—we hoped to eventually serve the Aeons directly. If that means snipping off any weaknesses, so be it.” The pitiless words were as sharp and cutting as any scalpel. Personally, Wynter didn’t see what would be so amazing about living among the primordial beings in the underground utopia beneath the picturesque town of Aeon. Oh sure, you’d be privy to their secrets and, given they were the first civilization—yeah, as in Adam and Eve—they no doubt had a whole lot of interesting knowledge to pass on. It was considered an honor to serve them, just as it was considered an honor to be chosen to descend to their subterranean city. There were a few things Wynter wasn’t so comfortable with, though. Like how only the residents of said city were able to go down there and weren’t allowed to speak of it to those who lived in the town. Like how the Aeons demanded the respect and devotion that was worthy of deities. Though they possessed a godly arrogance, they weren’t deities at all. They also weren’t human. Referred to as Aeons merely due to being long-term natives of this place, they were incredibly secretive immortals who wielded impressive power. “This is not merely my wish,” Esther added. “I speak for the majority.” Wynter scanned the swarm of coven members near the gate. Rafe, the mentor she had to thank for all the training she’d received over the years, was notably absent. As for the others … many averted their eyes or shifted uncomfortably. Others raised their chin or sniffed. And it was clear that none were going to speak up for her. Hurt sliced her gut like a jagged blade. She hadn’t done a single thing to deserve them turning their backs on her. Not. One. The coven wasn’t alone.