What the Hell Happened: Deleted Scene from Perfectly Wicked

Winter

            Winter woke at dawn, restless and itchy. There was a strange energy blowing in from the south, and she couldn’t identify what form it would take. Her visions of the future were unpredictable and spotty. At times she saw only a few moments of an event, and occasionally she didn’t even know what she’d seen until the tragedy had already taken place, such as in the case of the town hall fire. She supposed she might see more clearly and more often if she didn’t expend half her mental energy trying to block the images.

            Very rarely, such as in this case, she saw nothing at all, but was aware of a tangible shift in energy. Change was coming their way, and without any visions to tell her what it was, she was as vulnerable to the future as everyone else.

            She showered and dressed quickly, shivering in her room as she pulled her curly wet hair into a ponytail and tugged on a baseball cap. Downstairs, she started the coffee, filling the carafe to the top because she’d heard Missy come in late and knew her twin would practically want to inject it intravenously. She and Missy didn’t have a ton in common, but coffee addiction was one thing they shared.

When Winter sat down to lace her boots, a vision danced at the edge of her mind. She mentally shoved it away, but it forced its way through regardless. Her visions had been coming more frequently and more forcefully ever since Connor Grimm had arrived at Wicked Good Apples, but she hadn’t shared that bit of information with her sisters or her aunts. They had enough to worry about without her adding to their stress.

            This time, the vision was of an animal rather than a person—a doe and her two fawns to be specific. They were stuck—or soon to be stuck—in the muddy bog on the lower west side of the property, where the ground bowled and marshland reigned. The marshland was visible from the driveway and was a big hit with visitors who, after snapping photos of the brilliant maples, would then inevitably ooh and ahh as they spotted redwing blackbirds swooping over the cattails and turtles sunning themselves on half-submerged logs.

            Winter poured coffee in a travel mug, and against her better judgment—thwarting visions meant consequences—headed down the driveway to save the stupid deer.

            It was so early that the light was gray, and mist hovered over the dew-dampened grass. The apple trees rose from the clinging mist, their gnarled black branches decorated with various shades of gray leaves. A thin, golden strip of light was just beginning to spread across the blue mountains in the west.

            Winter breathed in the damp earth and shivered in cool June air. She loved their little apple farm. Maybe not as much as Holly, but it was home. She’d grown up here, and as the property manager, she’d tended almost every apple tree by hand. Yet sometimes she had the strangest feeling that she didn’t belong, that she was meant to be somewhere else, doing something else.

            After one last gulp of coffee, Winter set her mug on the edge of the driveway and climbed down the embankment, slipping and sliding on the damp grass, branches clawing at her ponytail and long-sleeved shirt. Birds were waking up, and as she approached the marsh, their songs grew louder as the ground became soggier, water seeping around her boots. There, in the rapidly dissipating mist ahead, was the telltale silhouette of a doe. At her side were two fawns, shivering with fright.

            Was Winter supposed to find their terror entertaining because she was Wicked? Well, she didn’t. Her whole life she’d seen visions that would make any decent person ill, and her soul was weary of it.

            “It’s okay,” she murmured as she soundlessly approached. The doe scented her and lifted her head, the whites of her eyes rolling in fear. The deer tried to jerk herself out of the muck, but her forelegs had sunk up to the knees.

            Winter assessed the situation. If she tried to climb in the muck after them, she’d end up stuck. She scanned the immediate area: the moss-carpeted rocks, the tall yellow cattails, the dead logs that the turtles sunned themselves on. The logs!

            Winter squished over to one of the lighter logs, pulled on her work gloves, and yanked on the end, grunting as she dragged it toward the center of the marsh. When her feet began to sink in farther than she was comfortable with, she switched ends and pushed the log the rest of the way, angling it as close to the deer as she could manage.

            “Well, here goes,” she said, nimbly hopping onto the log. The mother deer began to panic as she approached, but the fawns were lethargic with exhaustion. “Let’s start with the baby.”

            Winter edged along the tree trunk, praying it wasn’t so rotted that it would break through, and squatted when she reached the first fawn. She cautiously grasped its foreleg. In the back of her mind, she registered that a truck was coming up the driveway, but her focus was so intense that she let it fade into the background noise of chirping morning birds.

            Light began to lengthen between the trees, golden and warm, as Winter pulled the first hoof free. She reached for the second, hoping to hell deer didn’t bite, because her head was far too close to its mouth for her liking, and tugged the other foot out of the mud. It made a sucking sound as it popped free, and then the little fawn stumbled across the remainder of the marsh so quickly that the mud didn’t have a chance to imprison it again.

            Winter was inordinately pleased with herself as she moved on to the second fawn. This one was a bit farther away and required more thoughtful balance on the log. She had just begun leaning over when someone called out, “Are you all right?”

            Winter spun around in alarm and lost her balance, glimpsing a pair of shockingly blue eyes before she tumbled into the marsh. Her hands sank all the way up to her elbows, and mud closed over her knees and halfway up her thighs. She struggled on all fours, the muck holding her immobile with astonishing strength.

            “Holy shit! Don’t move!” the guy called, athletically leaping over a rock and walking onto the log with perfect balance.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Winter ground out.

            “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw the coffee mug in the driveway, and when I pulled over, I glimpsed someone down here. I thought you might need help.”

            “Nope, I was doing just fine until you came along.”

            His smile was so disarmingly charming that for a single moment Winter was rendered speechless by how handsome he was. Then she remembered where she’d seen those blue eyes and ruggedly good Viking looks before: this was Connor Grimm’s brother, Erikson Grimm, a man as equally famous for being an outrageous flirt as he was for co-hosting Grimm Reality.    

            Why hadn’t she seen him coming?

            He squatted and reached for her, his big hand wrapping around her upper arm. With a firm tug, he attempted to pull her free, but she was as stuck as the two remaining deer.

            “This isn’t going to work,” Winter snapped, humiliated that she was meeting Erikson Grimm with her ass in the air and her hands and knees stuck in a mud pit.

            “What is this shit, cement?” he barked. “Screw this.”

            “Don’t step in—”

Before she could finish speaking, he’d planted one big boot in the muck behind her and was encircling her waist with his arms. He was a tall man, and Winter was what clothing stores liked to call petite—AKA a shrimp, so his arms easily wrapped around her.

She caught a whiff of the warm cedar of his cologne and felt the heat of his chest on her back as he said, “On the count of three. One, two, three!” He yanked her hard, and to both of their surprise, Winter came flying out of the mud, her gloves staying behind in their eternal, swampy resting place. Neither of them was expecting the marsh to release her so easily, and he stumbled backward and landed on his ass with Winter bouncing on his lap with a soft oof.

She quickly scrambled out of his lap, but the marsh gripped her boots on either side of his legs. Mud was sliding down her bare arms and plopping to the ground, and her entire body was coated in swamp slime. She looked heavenward and cursed all of the stars and universes, because she was literally stuck with her groin in Erikson Grimm’s face.

“Well, this is interesting,” he said in amusement.

“Let me help you up,” she grunted, choosing to ignore his comment.

            She clasped his hand and helped pull him to standing. He practically towered over her, and although he was nearly as muddy as she was now, his eyes were sparkling with humor.

            “The least you can do is help me get the deer out now,” Winter muttered, avoiding his gaze. She wasn’t really a people person, and she had no clue how to interact with magnetism at this level.

            What ensued was the most ridiculous ten minutes of Winter’s life. They slipped and slid in the mud, got stuck, and had to help each other out so many times that they looked like mud monsters by the time they were finished, and Winter had lost all reservation in face of his charm.

            “You know Grimm, you should stick to show business because you suck at deer rescuing,” she snapped when they’d finally released the mother. The doe darted off, nuzzled her two fawns, and the trio disappeared into the forest.

            “I suck?” he growled. “You’re the crazy person who came out here on her own to rescue some tick-riddled deer. If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be stuck in the mud until the next century.”

            “If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have fallen off the log to begin with!” she shouted.

            “Bullshit.”

            They glared at each other in the middle of the marsh, both of them unrecognizable with filth.

            “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Erikson snarled. He started walking toward firmer ground, the slime making juvenile sucking sounds with every step. Winter was having a difficult time making headway, and she felt even more sympathy for the deer. “What are you waiting for?” he taunted over his shoulder.

            If Winter had been cursed with a death look, she would have slain him on the spot.

            “Frig this.” Erikson spun around and hefted her over his shoulder. Winter shrieked in outrage, her head dangling halfway down his back and her butt in the air, but he pinned her thighs to his chest and said, “Quit wiggling, or we’ll both end up in the mud again.”

            Winter couldn’t think of enough insults for him, so she bit her tongue and seethed in silence as he carried them through the mud with the speed of a turtle moving through molasses. At last he reached solid ground and set her on her feet. “You’re welcome.”

            “Gah!” she cried. “You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. It’s like starting a fire and then taking a bow when you pour water over it.”

            She was seriously thinking about tackling him to the ground, when he turned his back on her and started walking up the embankment.

            “Oh no you don’t!” she spat, chasing after him. “You’re not driving up to the house and leaving me to walk home in this filth.”

            “Never said I was,” he snapped as he reached the truck. He yanked open the passenger side and gestured. “Get in, you pain in the ass.”

            Winter stood toe-to-toe with him, and even though she was a full foot shorter, she knew she had the look of a warrior on her face when she said, “You and I are now mortal enemies.”

            Erikson snorted. “Can you climb in yourself, or do you need a boost, Elf?”

            Winter’s eyes widened. Everyone she knew quailed under her warrior look, but not only was this guy unaffected, he’d called her an elf. 

            Winter glowered at him, swung into the cab, and slammed the door in his face. Not just mortal enemies, eternal enemies. There was no one on this planet she hated more in that moment than Erikson Grimm.

Bonus Epilogue to Perfectly Wicked

Holly

Holly was in the back of the barn digging around for the box of Christmas cookie cutters for their little apple store, when she spotted Winter sitting on the floor in the dark, her knees drawn to her chin and her expression so vacant that Holly dropped the box and sprinted over. Holly sank down beside her and shook Winter’s shoulder, but her sister didn’t respond.

            “Winter, Winter!” she shouted. Her sister sat as if frozen in time. Holly felt for her pulse, and once she was assured that she was breathing and had a heartbeat, she jumped to her feet to fetch the aunts before she remembered they weren’t there. They’d left the week before to travel across New England and connect with other Wickeds. They’d promised to be back for Holly’s wedding, and she’d wished them a joyful vacation. They deserved a break and a chance to rediscover their roots. But without the aunts, Holly was at a loss at what to do for Winter. For the first time in their lives, she and her sisters were going to have to figure things out without the guidance of their aunts.

            The phrase trouble trouble on the double whispered through Holly’s mind.

            Holly shivered and sat beside Winter, wrapping her arm around her rigid shoulders and tugging her close. Winter’s visions typically lasted for a few seconds, sometimes up to a minute. Holly had never seen one grip her sister so powerfully and for so long. “I’m here, Win,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here until you come back. And when you do, we’ll take care of everything together. It will be all right.”

            But when Winter returned from the vision three hours later, everything wasn’t all right. She brushed off the scary experience as meaningless before she retreated to her room for a nap, and whenever Holly or Missy brought it up again after that, she quickly changed the topic. She seemed determined not to share what she’d seen, determined not to spread the horror to alleviate her own burden.

            Winter put on her best face, but Holly saw the difference in her eyes. There was a new sadness in her soul, as if she’d seen something horrendous and was powerless to stop it.

            For the rest of the apple season, Winter worked harder than ever, boxing and picking and organizing apples until late into the night. She left the house for long periods of time, and when she was home, she played the violin until her fingers bled and she was walking around with bandaged fingers.

            Then one day, at the end of October when the apple season was winding down, Winter appeared in the living room with a packed canvas bag and her violin carrying case slung over her shoulder.

            Holly and Connor were snuggled on the couch looking at caterers on the phone, and Missy was wearing a big pair of sweatpants and curled up on the rug in front of the wood stove, texting. They all looked up when Winter entered the room.

            “I’m leaving,” Winter said without preamble

            Missy lowered her phone. “Say what?”

            “Not forever. For a while.”

            Holly stood. “What do you mean you’re leaving? Where are you going? Why are you going?”

            Winter avoided her gaze, which was unlike her. “I’m going to Lobster Cove. It’s a small coastal town Down East.”

            “But why?” Missy wailed. “What is the matter with you, Winter? Why won’t you talk to me? I’m your twin, for frig’s sake.”

            Winter pulled her keys from her pocket and fidgeted with them. “I’ll be back in a while.” She paused at the door, and without turning around, said, “I love you.”

            Holly pushed aside the lace curtains at the picture window to watch her sister climb into her beaten-up truck. “I don’t like this. Something is really wrong with her.”

            Connor came up behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “What do you think it is?”

            “I’m not sure, but I think it has to do with that long vision she had. We’re supposed to be getting married in six weeks, Connor, and I know she’d never miss our wedding.” She glanced at Missy, who was nervously chewing on her thumbnail. “Let’s give her time. She’ll be back by then. I know she will.”

4 Weeks Later

Connor

            Connor tapped beer bottles with Erikson and they both drank.

            “To my brother, who’s getting married in two weeks!” Erikson cried. Grimm Reality had taken a hiatus for the winter months, so Erikson had flown in a couple weeks early to help Connor and Holly with the wedding.

            Connor glanced across the kitchen table at Holly, who was working on her wedding frost crown with Missy. From what he could see, it involved a lot of leaves and hot glue. Holly caught his eye and smiled, and as always, a sense of unreality hit him like a brick. He could hardly believe he’d lucked into this life, a life where he got to be with the woman he loved and do a job he loved.

            Next chapters rocked.

            He refocused on Erikson, who was leaning back in his chair and studying the label on the beer. “Is this a Belgium white?”

            “So, you’re my best man,” Connor began.

            “We’ve established that.”

            “And best men have certain duties.”

            Erikson grinned. “I know where this is going. Don’t worry, I’m already planning the bachelor party.”

            Connor blinked. “Um, no, that’s not where this is going.”

            “Oh?”

            “You might have heard that Holly’s sister, Winter, up and left a month ago.”

            Erikson took a swig of beer, possibly to conceal his expression. Connor knew Erikson and Winter hadn’t exactly taken a liking to one another, but what he was about to ask Erikson to do was about the bigger picture. It was about making his future wife happy. “Yeah, I heard.”

            “Our wedding is in two weeks.”

            Erikson stared at him. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

            “But you see, Winter is not here, and Holly is afraid she’s going to miss the wedding. Let me be blunt.” Connor rested his forearm on the table and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I need you to go get her.”

            Erikson groaned. “No. God no, can’t you ask me for something else? Anything else? Maybe a kidney?”

            “Something is wrong with Winter, and I know Holly isn’t going to enjoy the wedding if her sister isn’t here. Hell, she might even postpone it. I can’t have my fiancée unhappy before we even get married. It’s bad luck or something.”

            “Shit.” Erikson scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why doesn’t Holly just call her? Text her? Drive to her new apartment or whatever?”

            “Winter left her cell phone behind.” Connor drummed his fingertips on the table, his investigator instincts screaming to solve the mystery, but for once he was setting them aside, mostly because he didn’t think Holly would appreciate him hounding her sister when Winter had made it clear she needed time in solitude—but that didn’t mean his brother couldn’t nose around a bit, especially since the cause was noble. “She never gave us an address. All she said was that she was moving to Lobster Cove.”

            “Great. This gets better and better. So now I have to find her in a whole town of people and remind her not to be a shitty sister.”

            Connor beamed at him. “Exactly!”

            Erikson scowled. “She’s not going to be happy to see me.”

            “As long as you get her here in time for the ceremony, I don’t care if she throws daggers at you.”

            Erikson peeled part of the label off his bottle. “Easy for you to say, safe and snug at home with your new fiancée while I deal with the warrior sister.”

            Connor slapped him on the back and said with cheerleader gusto, “You’ve got this!”

            “Is it too late to renounce being best man?”

            “Yes.”

            Erikson heaved a sigh. “Fine, I’ll find Winter.” He pointed a warning finger at Connor. “But if that Wicked gives me a hard time, you’re going to owe me.”

            Connor took out a twenty and slapped it on the table. Erikson eyed it warily. “What’s that for?”

            “Advance payment. She’s definitely going to give you a hard time.”