Kingdom of the Cursed

by Kerri Maniscalco

  I withdrew from that place with a gasp.

  “Holy goddess above… what was that?”

  I flipped through the pages of the grimoire, but there was no mention of a power like the one I’d just experienced. It certainly didn’t fit into earth, air, fire, water, or aether. It was massive, all-knowing, powerful in a way that worried me. Its rage burned with an intensity that obliterated reason. If I could summon that force at will… I could destroy this realm.

  Not that I wanted to do that. I only wanted vengeance against my twin’s murderer. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, ready to try again.

  “Oh, pardon me.”

  I glanced up from my spell work, my education abandoned, and closed the grimoire with a loud clap. A young woman—with curly jet-black hair, rich sepia-colored eyes, and brown skin—gave me a polite curtsy. Little animal skulls were fastened in her long hair, similar to the way I pinned flowers in mine. A deep russet-copper dress hugged each of her generous curves. She held a book on arboriculture, a surprising but interesting choice.

  “You must be Emilia. The whole court is vastly intrigued by you. I’m Fauna.”

  I gave her a tentative smile. I’d been counting on the fact that gossip would be as widely used here as it had been in the marketplace back home. “What kind of nasty rumors are circulating?”

  “The usual. Your hair is made of serpents, your tongue of fire, and when you’re angry, you spit flames like the mighty ice dragons of Merciless Reach.” She grinned at my look of surprise. “Teasing. They’re too smart to start rumors while Prince Wrath is in residence. As his personal guest, you’re off limits. He’s made that very clear. Lord or lady of the Royal Demon Court, if your name is on anyone’s tongue, he will rip it out.”

  “More like he’ll glare at them until they wither and die if they impede his mission.”

  She gave me a curious look. “Actually, he was quite literal in his threat. Lord Makaden’s lucky he escaped with his intact. The prince promised the next time he speaks ill of you, his tongue will be spiked outside the throne room and stay there until it rots. Makaden’s prominent standing in the court is likely the only reason he’s not maimed now.”

  I had to mentally remind myself to keep breathing as that image took shape. “Truly? Wrath threatened to rip out someone’s tongue?”

  “It’s no idle threat. It was a warning to be heeded. His highness is not merciful with those who challenge him. This morning he brought a mountain down on Domitius, his lieutenant general.” Fauna’s smile faded. “They’re still searching through the rubble.”

  I was at a loss for words. Anir only said he’d taken a mountain down. He didn’t mention anyone being crushed by it. Wrath was a prince of Hell. A general of war. One of the feared and mighty Seven. This news shouldn’t be surprising. I’d seen his violence before.

  Still, it served as a reminder of who I was dealing with and where I was. I would need to play my game expertly when I went to any other courts.

  The fact that Wrath had harmed a high-ranking officer shouldn’t have come as a shock. He’d probably taken his dark mood out on him after our fight this morning. If that was what he did after a small argument, I worried about who might feel his legendary wrath after our latest disagreement. Guilt sank its claws in deep, though logically I knew I had nothing to feel guilty about. He was solely responsible for his actions.

  “Do you know why Wrath attacked him?”

  “I believe Domitius suggested serving your still-beating heart to the soldiers. Though others claim he made lewd comments about your physical attributes. Something about tasting you to see if you were as sweet as your ‘ripe bosom’ suggested.”

  “And the other? What did he say?”

  “Lord Makaden inquired about his highness having any other rules governing tongues and how they applied to you.” She hesitated. “Neither one of them are considered to be very… humorous. His majesty was right to act swiftly. One rotten demonberry spoils the whole bushel.”

  Charming. It was a delicate way of saying the demons would have acted on their statements. Or at least tried to. I might not be well versed with weapons or combat, but I did have some skill with a blade, thanks to time spent in the kitchen, breaking down carcasses. I knew vital areas to aim for and wouldn’t hesitate to stick someone who meant me harm.

  I’d request a weapon the next time I saw Wrath. Surely he would grant me some means of protection. I did not want to rely on him or anyone else for my safety.

  “Were either of them your lover?”

  “Devils, no.” Fauna snorted. “You’ll meet the object of my pining soon enough. Tomorrow night, in fact.”

  Suspicion pooled inside me along with dread. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

  “Nothing too scandalous or terrifying. Only dinner with the most elite House Wrath members.” Her smile was full and bright. “Don’t be worried. Prince Wrath forbade ‘guttings at gatherings’ at least a century ago. Now the only blades we arm ourselves with are our sharp glares. We stare daggers over our wine and dream of sticking our enemies in flesh. Consider it practice for the upcoming feast.”

  “I heard a fear is torn from the guest of honor. Can someone offer to stand in?” If so, I’d bargain with Wrath or the devil himself if I had to. “Any upper nobility, perhaps?”

  “Even if it were allowed, which it may well be, no one would volunteer.” Fauna gave me a pitying look. “Definitely no prince of this realm. It would give the other royals too much power.” She held her book tightly. “You’re staying in the Crystal Wing, correct?”

  “Maybe?” I lifted a shoulder. “There’s a lot of crystal in my chamber.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll meet you before dinner and escort you down.”

  Before I could agree or ask questions, she hurried out of the library.

  I shook my head. My first day in House Wrath had been a disaster. Arriving with hypothermia, an enchanted skull, arguments with the prince, secrets my family might be keeping about my magic, a maimed member of Wrath’s army, and the new threat of the Feast of the Wolf looming above it all.

  The last thing in the world I wanted was to offer up my worst fear to a realm that would torture me with it. But perhaps if I learned how to harness my power, I could solve Vittoria’s murder and be back home in the mortal world well before that happened.

  I collected the grimoire, pushed myself up, and retreated back to my rooms, needing to prepare for tomorrow. Given the information regarding the felled mountain, I had little doubt dinner would be its own sort of wicked battle. One I’d be lucky to escape from unscathed.

  I didn’t end up back in the Crystal Wing. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to investigate Wrath’s version of Hell. Know thy enemy… and his reading habits.

  I found a circular staircase near the back of the rainbow library and carefully descended into the darkness yawning below. My initial guess of ebony, gold, and leather wasn’t that far off from the reality of his personal library. Dark, butter-soft worn leather chairs were placed before a fireplace that took up a wall made of stacked stone. I could easily stand upright in the opening and stretch my arms above my head and still not reach the top of it. Several rugs in various shades of charcoal and black with gold thread details were tastefully laid around the room.

  Here, the shelves were obsidian gemstone, the books all bound with dark shades of leather. A circular chandelier with thin iron arms hung from exposed beams and cast an enticing glow over the room. It was the perfect place to curl up and read in front of a crackling fire. There was even a plush throw blanket tossed casually across the back of a reading chair.

  In an alcove off the main reading space a set of manacled chains hung from the wall. Wrath hadn’t been teasing. My mouth went dry and I quickly averted my gaze.

  Torture wasn’t the first thing that had sprung to mind. And I did not want this realm working its devious magic on any more fleeting emotions. I moved through the rest of the space, devouring as much as I
could.

  Books and journals on war strategy, history—both demon and human—witch rituals, grimoires, and even a few handwritten notes were placed in neat stacks on a large, imposing desk. Latin and a language I couldn’t read. Nothing incriminating or useful. Nothing of goddesses or their magic, or demon fables about the Maiden, Mother, or Crone. No spells on reanimating skulls or other bones.

  Just pens and pots of ink. A rough stone I imagined was used to sharpen a blade.

  On a shelf behind the desk were seven volumes of journals dedicated to each demon House. Eight journals, actually, if the pattern in the dust was any indication. Perhaps one House was so prolific it had taken more than one book to get all the information down. Whatever the case, the text was missing now.

  Apparently, the titles were the only things written in Latin. I thumbed through a few but couldn’t read the language within. Frustration built behind my breastbone as I shoved the journals back in place. Nothing was ever easy.

  A decanter partially filled with lavender liquid and a matching crystal glass caught my attention. Curious about what Wrath indulged in, I splashed some liquor into the glass and sniffed. Notes of citrus and botanicals blended together. I took a careful sip and hissed through my teeth at the burn. It was strong. Almost like human brandy but with a sweeter, vanilla undertone. If I smoothed it out with some cream and ice it would be divine.

  And might help get me through tomorrow evening. I’d send for a glass before the meal.

  I set the liquor aside and sat at the desk, rattling the drawers. Locked, naturally. Tucked below a copper serpent sculpture I assumed was used as a paperweight, was an envelope with elegant script. Not feeling guilty at all, I read the message.

  Brother,

  They have been found.

  VIII

  G

  I read it over again, not that it helped decipher the single line. I imagined the G stood for Greed. But it could also be Gluttony. They have been found. VIII. Envy and Greed had both been after the Horn of Hades, but Wrath never showed much interest in the amulets. Not to mention, he was now in possession of them until Pride allowed us into his territory.

  “So what, then, were you searching for, dearest, secretive, Wrath?”

  I picked up the serpent paperweight and rolled it between my palms. “Ouch.”

  I turned it over; little sharp ridges in a geometric design poked out from the bottom. It was a wax seal, not a paperweight. Or maybe it was both. I set it aside and scanned the note again. Something stood out this time. It didn’t address anyone by name. Which meant there was no way to know if Wrath was the intended recipient, or if he’d intercepted it.

  Maybe this message was meant for the devil—to let him know his horns had been recovered. Maybe the G symbolized Wrath’s true name and he was the one sending out the correspondence. Or maybe there wasn’t anything important about this at all and I was so desperate to find clues, I was inventing them.

  It was also missing a date, so there was no way to know if this was recent news or ancient history. Unless that was what the VIII portion meant. I had no idea how the demons tabulated time. It was the late nineteenth century on earth, but it could be eight eons here. Or maybe it was indicating the missing eighth journal. I could spend eternity guessing.

  I put the useless note away, commandeered a pot of ink, pen, and some parchment, retrieved the grimoire on beginning magic, and headed back to my chamber, more frustrated and lost than I’d felt before. Tomorrow, I had to hope, would bring some clarity, even if it came in the form of watching how the demons interacted and learning how they moved through court.

  Given my working-class standing, I had not associated with wealthy circles back home, so tomorrow would be a test of how well I could blend in. My path to vengeance would be a slow burn, not a raging inferno. By the time I invaded House Pride, I would be well versed in proper deception.

  When the demon responsible for Vittoria’s death finally felt the flames of my fury, I’d hopefully have burned his House of Sin to ash.

  EIGHT

  Drying blood or an aged merlot, reduced in a saucepan and drizzled over a cut of peppercorn-encrusted meat. I twisted from side to side in the gilded floor-length mirror. I couldn’t decide which description better captured the unique color of the gown I now wore. Nonna would call it a blood-drenched omen and offer up prayers to the goddesses.

  I quite liked it.

  I’d obviously never attended a royal demon dinner party before, and the note that arrived early this morning in Wrath’s elegant slashes indicated I should wear something fierce and formal. This gown was both. A stiff corset bodice plunged into a deep V between my breasts, showing off my bronzed skin. Fine black snakeskin was embroidered onto the daring top, while the skirts remained that solid shade of dark wine. Demon finery in all its gothic glory.

  Since this gown was also strapless, my shimmering tattoo was on full display. I decided to forgo gloves to show it off. I wore no jewels except for the ring Wrath had gifted me. It would make an interesting topic of discussion, no doubt.

  And would hopefully serve its purpose well.

  I missed the silver cornicello I’d worn my whole life, but had to accept my amulet was gone for good. I moved into the bathing chamber and toyed with my unbound hair. Yesterday Fauna’s style had been loose and wild and lovely, so I fashioned mine in a similar manner to avoid any missteps in attire. Long dark waves cascaded down my back, and the shorter pieces framing my face fell forward as I pretended to converse with diners on either side of me.

  Which wouldn’t do. I didn’t want to hide behind anything this evening. The lords and ladies of Hell would gaze upon me without any barriers.

  No matter how afraid or nervous I was, I refused to look it.

  In a vanity drawer, I discovered little bird skull clips and pulled the top portion of my hair back. I placed the bones prettily about my crown like a diadem of death and added flowers between the macabre. There. Now I looked like a princess of Hell, if not its future queen.

  Although, with the bones in my hair and the familiar glint of barely leashed anger shining in my eyes, I supposed I could also pass for the goddess of death and fury.

  I walked back into my bedchamber and halted halfway through it. Placed on the glass table—next to the bottle of wine left over from Anir’s visit the night before—was another skull.

  “Blood and bones.” Almost literally.

  I drew in a deep breath and moved close enough for it to deliver its message. Almost immediately, it spoke in that same, Vittoria-like voice that made goose bumps rise across my body. “Seven stars, seven sins. As above, so below.”

  “Goddess above. What does that even mean?”

  I didn’t expect a response and wasn’t too disappointed when none came. I heaved a sigh. I hated riddles. Confusing, worthless things. I pulled out the inkpot, pen, and parchment I’d taken from Wrath’s library and scribbled notes.

  If one of Wrath’s brothers was taking the time to send messages via possessed skulls, it definitely meant something. Unless one of the seven princes was simply toying with me out of boredom. Which I doubted but wouldn’t rule out. Perhaps they were petty enough to do it.

  ~ Enchanted skulls ~

  Skull one: Angelus mortis lives. Fury. Almost free. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Past, present, future, find.

  Skull two: Seven stars, seven sins. As above, so below.

  The seven sins were the easiest to decipher; clearly it meant the princes of Hell. As above, so below was part of the prophecy—which was less clear. No one seemed entirely sure what it meant. Nonna said it related to Vittoria and me, that we were supposed to bring peace to both realms through great sacrifice. But even she didn’t have all of the answers. At least that was what she claimed. Who knew the truth anymore? The rest… the rest would take some research.

  I started a new line in my notes, determined to have each theory clearly defined so I could cross it off or add to it over time. Having something written a
lways helped me to truly see.

  Plus, it was what detectives in novels did, and they always solved their mystery by the end of the book. I was no expert, but I’d try my best. I jotted down as much information as I could recall about the prophecy next.

  ~ Prophecy ~

  As above, so below

  • When twin witches are born, they must wear the Horn of Hades. (Vittoria and I.)

  • Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.

  • Some witches think it means the use of both light magic and dark magic.

  • Others think a prince of Hell will fall in love with a witch.

  • One twin will rule in Hell, the other Heaven. (Both forced to sacrifice.)

  My breath caught as I reread the second point. Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.

  “Holy goddess above. It can’t be…”

  How did we all miss that earlier? My mind raced with thoughts of Claudia’s scrying session once again. About how “he” roamed free and the impossibility of it. She didn’t mean the angel of death. She’d been warning us about the devil. If my twin and I ended his curse, it was likely our birth that broke the magic binding him, not an action we’d taken.

  Which meant he hadn’t been chained in Hell like we’d believed.

  And he hadn’t been for nearly two decades. While I’d been investigating Vittoria’s murder, he’d been free, doing the goddess knew what.

  So why, then, did Pride possess the body of Antonio and send Wrath to collect me in his stead? If he was not forced to reign in Hell, he could have come for me himself. He could have come to collect all of his potential brides. Why delegate that duty to Wrath?

  Unless my earlier suspicion was correct and he was never actually in need of a bride. And the murders were committed for another reason.