Kingdom of the Wicked

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Forever seemed like a wise idea when it came to making sure a demon couldn’t leave the circle. And if it was forced to protect me, it couldn’t very well attack me. For the final portion of the spell, I needed to prepare an exit. Apparently, demons were creatures of strict rules and had to adhere to them, so if I invited one to join me, I had to formally uninvite it and send it back to its realm. Good manners were advised, but I wasn’t sure how well I could carry out that part.

  I took a deep breath. “All right, Emilia. You can do this.”

  I slowly set objects down in a circle. Bone. Fern. Candle. With varying lengths, they looked like rays of an occult sun. I lit the candles and walked around the perimeter, clutching a bird’s skull to my chest, the final piece I needed to make it complete. I hesitated.

  If I placed this last bone in the formation, the circle would be set.

  I inhaled, then slowly exhaled. I had no idea what kind of demon would answer my call. Some looked human and others were walking nightmares, according to Nonna. She never gave us specifics, which I wasn’t sure was a blessing now. My mind was exceptional at picturing fang-toothed, claw-tipped, wicked creatures that crab-walked backward on multiple legs.

  Clouds floated across the moon, creating a distorted effect on the cavern walls. Chills caressed my spine again. The goddess of storm and sea wasn’t pleased.

  I stared down at the skull I held, wondering if this was really the path I should take. Maybe I should blow out the candles and take myself back home and go to bed, forget about demons, witch hunters, and the devil. Nonna said once darkness was invited in, trouble shortly followed.

  A flash of my twin’s face—dark eyes sparkling with mischief, and her lips quirked up on one side—crossed my mind. Before I lost my nerve, I bent down and quickly fit the last bone into place. Silence swept around the chamber, sealing off the pleas of the sea. I crept over to the edge of the circle, the tiny jar of blood in hand, when a powerful blast of wind tore through the cave.

  Bats screeched and flew at me. Hundreds of them. I screamed, tossing up my hands to protect myself as they raged around me like a living storm. Distantly, I heard glass break. I dropped to my knees, covering my head as little wings and claws tore at my hair and neck. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the bats were gone and the cave went still.

  I took a few deep, shuddering breaths and slowly pushed a tangle of hair from my face. During the brief attack, it came undone from its simple braid. Long loose curls tickled my back like spiders, bringing on more goose bumps. Flower petals littered the ground like soldiers who’d fallen in a skirmish they hadn’t seen coming. I’d forgotten there was a closed-off tunnel near the very back of the cave.

  I pressed my lips into a thin line, furious with myself. If I could summon a demon, I could get over a bunch of bats.

  In theory.

  I stood on shaking legs and brushed myself down, shifting my attention to the summoning circle, and cringing at the broken glass winking in the moonlight. Blood splattered the ground around the perimeter, which was no good for me. It needed to be within its border to entice the demon.

  “Stupid bats from Hell.” I didn’t have another jar of blood, and walking all the way back to the restaurant would take forever. The spell needed to be cast at night, and daybreak was only a couple of hours away. I’d never make it there and back in time.

  I glanced around the cave, desperate enough to kill something if I needed to. Of course, now that I could use a bat or snake or another creature, it was truly empty. Kicking at rocks and muttering the sort of foul language that would make both my mother and Nonna’s heads spin, I finally looked over Vittoria’s mysterious grimoire sheet again.

  Technically it didn’t specify that animal blood was needed. It only advised using it.

  I relit the candles and picked up the serpent dagger, reasoning that I needed it to complete the spell anyway. The time for hesitation and interruptions was over. Whether I liked it or not, if I wanted to break the spell on Vittoria’s diary, this was my best option.

  If I had to offer a little of my own blood, it was a small price to pay.

  I ignored the pain as I dragged the blade over the top of my forearm; I needed my hands for cooking later and couldn’t afford to cut my palm. The metal glowed as if pleased with my offering. Not wanting to think too hard about a blade that gloried in a blood sacrifice, I held my arm over the summoning circle and began chanting as soon as the first drops hit the ground.

  “By earth, blood, and bone. I invite thee. Come, enter this realm of man. Join me. Bound in this circle, until I send thee home. Aevitas ligati in aeternus protego.”

  I held completely still, waiting. For the earth to crack, the gates of Hell to snap open, hordes of witch hunters to rush me, or my heart to stop. Nothing happened. I was about to start chanting again when it began. Smoke swirled around the circle’s edge like it had been trapped in a jar, never crossing into the rest of the cave. It pulsed with energy; almost lovingly caressed my hand. I dropped the dagger and yanked my arm back, hugging it to me until the sensation ceased.

  I couldn’t believe what was happening. A stronger wave of darkness shifted around the circle, obliterating the inside of it completely from view. Black, glittering light emerged from the center. I could hardly breathe. A sound like a crackling fire in winter preceded the demon’s arrival. I’d done it. I’d actually summoned a creature from Hell! If I didn’t pass out from the shock, it would be a true success. I waited, heart hammering, for the smoke to clear.

  As if answering my unspoken wish, a phantom breeze carried it away, revealing a tall, dark-haired man. His muscular back was to me and he wore only low-slung black pants. He wasn’t at all what I expected from a lesser demon. Golden skin glistened in the candlelight, the smooth perfection broken only by an assortment of shimmering ink. His beauty was an affront to what evil ought to look like. I supposed I should be thankful he didn’t have a serpent tail or wicked horns.

  The demon rotated in place like he was getting acclimated to his new location. His chest and torso were chiseled in a way that indicated he was well-acquainted with weapons. My attention dropped to a metallic gold tattoo that started on top of his right hand, and coiled up and around his arm and shoulder. A fearsome snake. I didn’t have time to catalogue its details because he was now fully facing me. I sucked in a sharp breath as I finally met his gaze. Dark gold irises with flecks of black stared back at me.

  Beautiful. Rare. And lethal. Even though Nonna claimed their eyes were tinged red, I knew in the very marrow of my bones what he was.

  “Impossible,” I whispered.

  He raised a brow. His expression was so human, I forgot, for a second, how he’d arrived in this cave. He shouldn’t exist. Yet there he was defying all of my expectations. Tall, dark, and quietly seething. I couldn’t drag my attention from him, worried he was either a figment of my imagination, or proof of madness. I’d used the dark arts. Maybe this temporary delusion was my price.

  It was much easier to think that was true, rather than accept I’d done the impossible—I’d bound one of the Wicked to this realm. Which was very, very bad.

  He was human looking enough, but was the physical embodiment of a nightmare.

  Blood drinking, soul stealing, immortal creature of the night. I fought the urge to jump away from the circle and held his gaze instead. A storm raged within those eyes. It was like standing on the edge of a darkened shore, watching lightning dance closer across the sea. A lick of fear trailed down my spine as he defiantly stared back. I had never been more grateful that I’d also bound him to protect. Instinctually I reached up and held my cornicello for comfort.

  He looked ready to—sweet goddess of fury. His luccicare was black and gold. I’d only ever seen that once before. Recognition slammed into me, and I immediately dropped my cornicello and snatched my dagger from the floor. His dagger.

  The hilt was as cool as the icy rage now rushing through my veins.

  “I’m goin
g to kill you,” I snarled, then lunged for him.

  TEN

  Bones scattered as I attacked. The blade arced down, slicing a long, thin line across his hard chest. It should have pierced his heart. And it would have, if he hadn’t maneuvered back so swiftly. A strange, searing pain erupted under my skin. I didn’t want to consider what it meant—that maybe the mixture of our blood on the strange blade created a charm of its own. Or maybe the protection incantation also prevented me from striking him with a killing blow.

  He yanked the dagger away with ease and tossed it on the ground.

  I balled my hand into a fist and aimed for his center. It was like hitting a rock wall.

  The demon stood there, allowing my assault to continue. While I exhausted myself with kicks and punches, he calmly looked around the chamber, enraging me more with his nonchalance. The demon didn’t seem too worried, and I wondered how many times he’d been summoned and subsequently attacked. He studied the circle and his attention jerked down toward me, immediately narrowing in on the fresh cut on my arm. A slow frown formed before he hid it.

  “Why. Won’t. You. Bleed? Monster!” I was feral as I kicked and punched. My hatred and wrath so strong I almost got drunk on the intensity of it.

  I glanced up in time to see him close his eyes, like he was enjoying those dark feelings, too. Nonna said demons pulled emotions to them, allowing them to wriggle and writhe around theirs. From the expression on his face, I was beginning to think that was true.

  Disgusted, I stopped punching him and took a moment to catch my breath and regroup. Blood slipped down my arm and dripped to the ground. It wasn’t his, though. It was from the cut I’d made to summon him. I didn’t care if I bled myself dry if I took him to Hell with me.

  “Bit of advice, witch. Yelling, ‘I’m going to kill you’ takes the surprise out of the attack.” He grunted as I landed a swift blow to his stomach. My punches were slowing and he didn’t look any worse for the wear. “You won’t succeed in killing me, but it would be a vast improvement in skill.”

  “Maybe I can’t kill you, but I’ll find other ways to make you suffer.”

  “Trust me, your very presence is accomplishing that.” Blood drops hissed within the circle. That strange searing under my skin was growing unbearable, but I was too mad to pay attention. “What spell did you use, witch?”

  I stopped, breathing hard. “Vaffanculo a chi t’è morto.”

  I wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what the curse meant, but he must have deduced it had something to do with fornicating with dead family members. He looked ready to drag me back to Hell now. He suddenly staggered away, cursing. “What spell did you use?”

  “Well, considering you’re standing here, angry and unable to attack, I’d guess summoning spell, demon.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And one for protection.”

  Out of nowhere, gold light flashed over my arm before disintegrating into pale lavender. A tattoo in the same shade of purple—twin crescent moons laying sideways within a ring of stars—appeared on my outer forearm, burning almost as violently as my wrath.

  I stood there, panting, until the searing in my arm finally ceased. I watched as he looked down at his own arm and gritted his teeth. Apparently he was also experiencing that awful pain.

  Good.

  “You demon-blooded witch. You marked me.”

  A pale tattoo had appeared on his formerly bare left forearm. Double crescent moons laying in a circle of stars. For a moment, he looked like he could hardly comprehend that I’d managed something so impossible. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why he and I now had matching tattoos, either, but would rather die than admit that to him.

  It must be the cost of the dark magic I’d used to summon him. I almost laughed. When Carolina told me the spells would summon a lesser demon, I’d had a hard enough time believing her. I wondered if I was having a nightmare—there was no way I’d actually summoned a prince of Hell. It would take more magic than I possessed to control a creature like him for any good length of time.

  “This is impossible.”

  “On that much we can agree.” He thrust his arm at me. “Tell me the exact phrasing of this spell. We need to reverse it before it’s too late. There’s only precious minutes left.”

  “No.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve done. I need to know the exact phrasing. Now, witch.”

  I was pretty sure what I did, aside from royally annoy him, was ensure neither of us ended up dead by the other’s hand. The tattoos likely acted as a magical bond of sorts. Unbinding us so he could rip out my heart like he’d done to my sister was the last thing I’d do.

  “Unbelievable,” I scoffed. “Demanding things when you’re not the one with the power here.” His expression was one of pure disgust. I hoped it mirrored my own. “I need to know who you are and why you killed my sister. Since you can’t go back to your Hell dimension without me allowing it, I suggest playing by my rules.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but there was a shift in the atmosphere around us, and I had the strangest impression his power slithered out, circled me, then slunk away. His nostrils flared. He was raging against the magical leash I’d put on him, straining to snap free. I watched, a small spiteful smile curving my lips. If he didn’t hate me before, I’d accomplished that tenfold now. Perfect. It seemed we finally understood each other.

  “One day I’m going to be free of this bond. Think very carefully about that.”

  I stepped close to him, angling my face up. “One day, I’m going to find a way to kill you. Think very carefully about that. Now, tell me who you are and why you wanted Vittoria dead.”

  He offered me a smile that probably made men piss themselves; I refused to give in to fear. “Very well. Since you only have minimal time to hold me here, and have already wasted precious minutes with your poor excuse of an assassination attempt, I’ll play your game. I am the Prince of Wrath, general of war, and one of the feared Seven.”

  Before I could blink, he trailed a finger down my throat, pausing at the vein that throbbed beneath my skin. Undiluted dread shot through me. I shoved his hand away, and stepped out of the summoning circle. I noticed the scattered bones and scrambled to put them back in place.

  His grin turned into something sharp and wicked.

  “Congratulations, witch. You’ve succeeded in getting my full attention. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences.”

  Arrogance dripped off him. Only a fool wouldn’t be terrified of the beast I sensed lurking beneath his skin. He radiated power—vast and ancient. I had little doubt he could end my life with nary a thought.

  All the same, the corner of my lips twitched.

  Then, without warning, I bent over and began laughing. The sound bounced off the walls of the cave, magnifying until I wanted to plug my ears. I clutched my stomach, practically heaving from my outburst. Perhaps I was going insane. This night had gone from bad to worse faster than I could have ever imagined. I couldn’t believe I’d summoned a prince of Hell. I couldn’t believe royal demons existed. The world was downside up and upside down.

  “I’m glad imminent death is so amusing,” he snapped. “It’ll make it all the more satisfying to slaughter you. And I promise your death will not be quick. I will glory in the kill.”

  I waved him off like he was no more fearsome than a housefly. I could practically feel anger vibrating off him and winding its way into me. Even still, I had a feeling he was holding himself back. A lot. It was unsettling.

  “Why, pray tell, are you laughing so hard?”

  I straightened and wiped the corners of my eyes. “What, exactly, should I call you? Your highness? Oh, Feared and Mighty Seven? General Commander of Hell? Or Prince Wrath?”

  A muscle in his jaw strained as he held my gaze.

  “One day you’ll call me Death. For now, Wrath will do.”

  ELEVEN

  A prince of Hell will never give their true name to their enemies. They can only be summoned through an object
that belongs to them along with a powerful emotion. Their powers are tied to the sins they represent. Beware, for they are selfish beings who wish to use you for their gain.

  —Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

  “Wrath?” I didn’t bother hiding my incredulous tone. Setting aside the extremely melodramatic “you’ll call me Death” line, the whole obscene night ceased being funny in the this-can’t-be-happening-cruel-fate kind of way. First, I’d been convinced he was a witch hunter and had murdered Vittoria because of what she was, only to discover he was one of the creatures we’d been hiding from our whole lives. Then, to have the demon who killed my sister within my grasp and not be able to harm him…

  I must have really annoyed some goddess to be punished this horribly. His stupid name and all of his titles were the least of my concerns, but the anger pouring off him as I laughed made me inclined to torment him over it.

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m not calling you by an emotion. What’s your true name?”

  He pinned me with a cold stare as I retrieved his dagger. “My true name doesn’t concern you. Address me by my House title. Unless you’d like to call me His Royal Highness of Undeniable Desire. That’s always an acceptable option. If you want to bow, I wouldn’t mind that, either. A little groveling goes a long way. I may grant you a boon and make your death swift.”

  My lip involuntarily curled. “Are you sure you’re of House Wrath? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were general to a vacuous, shirtless battalion belonging to House Narcissism.”

  His expression was anything but friendly. “You flatter me. If you’re so repulsed by my company, why not set me free?”

  “Never.”

  “Dangerous word. I’d avoid speaking in absolutes if I were you. They have a tendency to never stick.”