I commanded my heart to steady itself. “Is there a point to any of this, or are you simply trying to evoke my wrath again?”
“There’s a point to everything, witch. We just have to figure out how it all connects. Don’t discount your friend simply because he’s mortal. Emotions are powerful forces. People kill for much less than greed or jealousy.”
I tried to imagine Antonio sneaking around at night, murdering young women. I’d say Wrath was wrong, but I knew enough of man to believe that anyone was capable of anything at any time. While I wasn’t convinced Antonio had any motivation for killing, I’d keep all options open just in case. For all I knew, he really was running around summoning demons and ripping out hearts between prayer sessions.
“If we can’t find proof Vittoria summoned Pride,” I said, “what should we do next?”
He stared at me a moment too long before looking away. “I’ll send a message to the next potential bride. Hopefully she’ll meet us tomorrow and we can be done with this.”
The world stopped spinning. I stared at him a beat, processing the fact that another witch had made a bargain, and he’d been aware of it. “You promised to stop helping Pride. And you knew about another witch?” He nodded. “Why is this the first you’re telling me?”
“First, I agreed to not harm a witch or force her into a bargain. Second, I was going to share the information after the Viperidae attack, but you banished me to the summoning circle before I got the chance to.”
How convenient for him. “Did you return to your realm to get this information?”
“No. Once summoned, I cannot leave this world until you send me back. Or unless my connection is severed with a demon blade.”
“What about the transve-whatever?”
“Transvenio. My ties to you prevent me from freely traveling between realms. But they also allow me to stay here longer than I normally could. Put simply: our bond anchors me here.”
“So how did you get the information about the new bargain?”
“Pride sent a messenger.”
It was too simple for comfort. I didn’t like that the devil could send messages between realms. It made me think of the Umbra demon again, and how it had taken the blade to my grandmother with ease. Maybe the devil was tired of witches wearing his horns.
“If you can only leave this realm when I send you back, how are you planning on delivering her to Hell?”
A spark of admiration lit his gaze. “I’m only speaking with her tomorrow. I said nothing of taking her to Hell.” He gave me a once-over and I wondered if he found me to be a formidable opponent. “I’m going to secure a building tonight. Once I find a location, I’ll send a note telling you where I’ll be. If you don’t hear from me by dusk, meet me back at the cavern.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I pulled the mortar and pestle from the shelf, face strained in concentration as I gathered up the olive oil, garlic, almonds, basil, pecorino, and cherry tomatoes for the pesto alla Trapanese. On days such as this, when the sun was sweltering before noon and even the thinnest dress clung like a second skin, I enjoyed adding fresh mint to the tomato pesto. Unfortunately, we were out of it at the moment.
I set my supplies down and pulled up my wavy hair, allowing a few shorter strands to frame my face. There were no flowers in my locks today—they’d go limp and wither in moments. The back of my neck was already sticky and the day had only just begun. I was seriously reconsidering my choice to wear white as I tied an apron over my sleeveless dress. I would have prefered to keep my magical tattoo hidden, but there was no way I’d survive the heat, even with sheer sleeves. Hopefully, no one in my family would notice the pale ink, especially if I angled my arm away.
I was deep in thoughts of picturing Wrath trying the tomato pesto when my mother joined me in our little kitchen and grabbed sardines from the ice box.
“You didn’t come home.” My mother wasn’t asking, and her tone was almost as sharp as the knife she was using to debone the fish. “Would you care to explain where you were all night?”
I would sooner sell my soul.
I kept my attention on the pesto, crushing the almonds just right. There was no way I was admitting to working with a blood-drinking demon to solve Vittoria’s murder. And not only had I temporarily aligned myself with one of the Malvagi, but I had also spoken with two others.
Oh, and, by the way, an invisible mercenary demon was following me around, sputtering cryptic warnings, attacked Nonna, and might assassinate me if ordered to. Then, I’d almost died in a Viperidae attack, and a prince of Hell saved me using ancient, dark magic that required both of us to be naked in a tub. My mother’s head would spin. But at least the tattoo wouldn’t seem half as bad.
“I was at the monastery.”
“I know.”
I jerked my gaze to hers, startled. “How?”
“Fratello Antonio stopped by this morning, concerned.” She went at the next sardine with gusto. Slipping the knife under the skin, dragging it down the spine. “He said you were with a young man. A friend of our family’s. Said his name was an odd one.”
“I—”
“Save your lies, child.” Mamma’s grip on her knife tightened. “They’re the gateway to Hell.”
I snapped my mouth shut. My mother must know. She must have seen through my ruse, and had somehow pieced together that I’d used the dark arts. And Fratello Antonio Bernardo had confirmed her fears. I swallowed hard, debating how honest I should be with her.
“Well, you see—”
“Tumbling around dark places with handsome young men might distract from the pain for a little while, but it won’t ever take it away. You need to find your own inner strength for that.”
“I—what?”
Mamma shook her knife in my direction. “Don’t go pretending you have no idea what I’m saying. You’re lucky your grandmother was sleeping and didn’t overhear him. She has enough to worry about while she’s healing. She doesn’t need to stress over devilish men. Fratello Antonio told me all about that young man. From the sound of it, you’ve bewitched him, too. Antonio said he called you his Emilia. You’re no one’s but your own, girl. Don’t ever forget it.”
Sweet goddess above. This was so much worse than Nonna finding out I’d summoned a demon. Heat blossomed across my face and crept down my neck that had nothing to do with the soaring temperatures. My mother thought Wrath and I had been…
I might die of mortification.
Even picturing him naked, tugging me to his solid, tattooed body, radiating his infuriating heat as he put his stupid mouth on mine and I gripped him back like he was both my eternal damnation and salvation as we…
I needed to stop that train of thought immediately. I wasn’t as disgusted by the image as I’d thought I’d be.
I knew Wrath’s juvenile taunt would come back to sink its nasty fangs into me one day. I just hadn’t quite pictured it occurring like this.
Mamma set her knife down, her expression softening. She completely misread the reason behind my reddening face. “Love or enjoy whoever’s company you want. But you need to be more careful. If your father had answered the door…” she trailed off, not having to finish the sentence to drive the point home.
Pummeling the person who was “tumbling” his daughter would be the perfect way to work out some of his own grief. Defending a daughter’s honor was an age-old male pastime. Antiquated human behavior aside, I couldn’t believe Antonio had come to our home.
My attention sought out the little clock for the thousandth time. The afternoon was dragging by. There were hours left until I had to meet Wrath. To give my hands something to do besides fantasize about wrapping themselves around Antonio’s neck, I removed the damp cloth from the mound of dough and began rolling the pasta for the busiate.
I couldn’t believe I ever wanted to kiss that nosy fool.
“Oh, and Emilia?” I paused my assault of the dough and looked at my mother. “Make extra busiate. I promised Antonio you�
��d bring some over today with your apologies.”
I smiled. I’d happily make extra pasta and dump it all over the troublesome fratello’s head.
“Buon appetito.” I slammed two baskets onto the long wooden table in the dining hall, not bothering to remove the covered trays of food within them. The small gathering of men waiting for their meal went silent. Antonio paused his conversation with another member around his age, concern crinkling his brow.
I gave him a look that I hoped promised a slow, torturous death and it must have worked. He shot to his feet and hastily escorted me into the corridor. I tolerated his hand on my bare arm until we were out of sight, then shrugged him off.
Sleeveless bodice or not, I didn’t appreciate the liberty he’d taken with touching my skin.
“Is something wrong, Emilia?”
“I cannot believe you told my mother I was here with someone last night,” I hissed. “What I do, and who I spend my time with, doesn’t concern you.”
Antonio’s jaw tightened. “Your sister was murdered here and a month later, I find you in the same chamber with someone I’ve never seen and whose name you refuse to give. Forgive me if I wanted to check to make sure you were all right.”
“If you were that worried, you could have easily waited in the monastery and walked me home. You didn’t have to show up at my house before dawn.”
He closed his eyes, leaving me to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. He had to know how much trouble he could have caused. No one was that naïve. Finally, when he looked at me again, the fight seemed to leave him.
His voice was quiet when he said, “Another girl was murdered after we spoke last night. And… and I couldn’t stop worrying it was you. After what happened with Vittoria, I had to be sure it wasn’t. I apologize for any trouble—I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. We were too late. Someone must have discovered the identity of the witch Wrath had planned to meet later. But how?
My mind spun. Wrath said he was the only prince who knew about the potential brides, but that didn’t mean other princes didn’t have ways of figuring that out. Spies were utilized in human royal courts—the same likely held true in the demon world. I thought about the invisible Umbra demons who worked for Greed. If he’d sent one after me and it attacked Nonna, it was probable one of them was also passing the names of potential brides along to him.
I still hadn’t quite figured out why he wanted the witches dead, though. Maybe it was just to ensure the devil didn’t break the curse and never left Hell.
Antonio reached over and tucked a loose wave behind my ear, his fingers lingering a moment too long. A few weeks ago my heart would have fluttered madly in my chest. Now I couldn’t help but remember how easily one could be torn from a person.
“Do you know who it was?” I asked. Antonio stepped back, looking a bit dazed as he dropped his hand. When he still didn’t answer, I clarified, “The girl from last night?”
He shook his head. “Rumors, but nothing that’s been confirmed. The consensus so far is she had dark hair and eyes like the others. Which isn’t much since nearly everyone on this island fits the description.”
“Where was her body found?”
“That, I don’t know. If anyone from the brotherhood was called there to bless the body, I haven’t heard about it. But I’m sure the market will be abuzz with information tonight. It always is.”
Antonio was right; the vendors knew everything and everyone. Customers from all over the city were in and out of their stalls all day, trading information and gossip while they shopped.
Of course stories were often embellished, but the truth usually remained tucked somewhere inside the exaggerations. Luckily I had another, more reliable source who knew the name of our victim. It was almost dusk, so Wrath should be in the cave by the time I got there. I’d grab the demon, ask him everything he knew about the witch, then go to the market and find out the location of the murder.
Hopefully, Wrath could test the scene like he’d done before, only this time we’d be successful with finding out which demon prince was responsible.
Then goddess be with him. I had little doubt the demon of war would take almost as much pleasure in destroying the murderer as I would.
TWENTY-SIX
Throngs of people elbowed their way through the busy marketplace, but still managed to give Wrath a wide berth. I wondered if they sensed his otherness and just didn’t know what to make of it. There was a quiet assurance about him—a confidence in himself and the space he occupied. Men and women paused in their gossiping, their gazes tracking him as we passed by. Some appreciatively, some with open distrust and scorn. Though that might be because murder was the topic of the evening, and Wrath looked like trouble.
I imagined wandering through the crowded, twisting streets with a leashed panther would give off the same aura of primal danger. If someone was temporarily out of their senses, I admit there could be a certain level of excitement, being close to something so lethal.
My senses were mostly intact, though. I knew there was no taming the wild beast, only the illusions of domesticity it cast when it felt like toying with its next meal. The fine clothes and impeccable manners were all part of a well-crafted trap to lure prey, likely honed eons before man walked the earth. Wrath was a predator through and through. I had a feeling if I let myself forget that even for a second, he’d happily sink his teeth into my throat and rip it out.
He caught me staring and raised a brow. “Enjoying what you see, witch?”
“Only if I had a death wish.”
“Do you?”
“Not even a little one.”
His eyes glittered with dark amusement. Of course the topic of death would appeal to him. “Which vendor do you believe knows about the murder location?”
I nodded toward the center of the marketplace where the apparel section began. Booths with fabrics and silks rustled in the slight breeze, beckoning us over.
“Salvatore is one of the best gossips in the city. If anyone has reliable information about Giulia, it’s him.” I glanced down at Wrath’s shirt. “He’s also the vendor who sold me that.”
“I see. You brought me here to commit murder while we investigate one.”
The good humor promptly left Wrath’s face. I hid my grin as his nostrils flared. For a vengeful prince of Hell, he certainly was touchy about clothing. And I was pretty sure he was only teasing about killing the vendor. I hoped.
In fact, I was surprised he was joking at all. After I left the monastery, I went straight to him and delivered the news. I’d been convinced he’d lay waste to the whole city. Instead, he calmly reported everything he knew about the potential bride. Her name was Giulia Santorini, and he hadn’t been able to get a message to her last night. I’d taken a second to digest this latest revelation.
I thought over everything again now. I knew her family. They sold spices in the Kalsa District, and Vittoria used to volunteer to stop by their shop to pick up orders for Sea & Vine when Uncle Nino or my father couldn’t. Giulia’s grandmother Sofia was the witch whose mind had gotten trapped between realms, shifting between realities so swiftly she no longer knew what was real and what was a vision.
As far as I knew, after what happened to Sofia, the Santorinis never dabbled in the dark arts again. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Giulia decided to invoke the dark arts like her grandma. And maybe she was the one who’d given my sister those mysterious grimoire pages.
That thought stopped me cold.
If Giulia had somehow given my sister a spell to summon a demon, it made sense that she’d taken it from her grandmother’s grimoire since Sofia was known to use the dark arts. Maybe the grimoire was the missing link… I thought again about the first book of spells. About the magic binding my sister’s diary. Was that the connection between the murders? Maybe not the dark arts, but the source material?
“What’s wrong?” Wrath asked, breaking into my thoughts. “You look stra
nge.”
“Are you sure you didn’t tell Giulia to meet you last night?” I asked. Wrath shot me a look that silently communicated he might strangle me if we went over this again. To be fair, I might have already asked him half a dozen times on our walk into the city. And half a dozen more once we were here. “Maybe you’re double-crossing Pride and killed her.”
He let out a long sigh. “I assure you that is still not the case. I have no reason to kill anyone. As I said before, my message never made it to her.”
I knew he wasn’t double-crossing anyone, but liked hearing him get flustered. “Do you think one of your brothers killed her?”
“No.”
“And we’re back to one-word answers.”
“Careful, witch, or I might think you’re interested in having a civil conversation.” The barest hint of a smile ghosted across his lips as I rolled my eyes. “Simple answers don’t require padding.”
“Why don’t you think one of your brothers did it?”
“What reason would they have?”
“Let me count the ways, oh, wicked one.” I ticked off motivations on my fingers. “Greed might be interested in taking the throne. Maybe Envy is jealous and wants more power. If Pride doesn’t marry, then he remains cursed and can’t leave Hell. Which is a pretty decent motivation if one of your brothers wants to rule this realm. Shall I go on?”
Wrath glared at me, but didn’t respond. Apparently he didn’t like my accusations, but couldn’t find a way to discredit them as foolish theories. We turned the corner, stepped around a pile of precariously towering wooden crates, and narrowly avoided getting speared by a swordfish head. Wrath took in all the sights and colors silently. I wondered if he had anything like it where he was from, but didn’t ask.
Kingdom of the Wicked Page 17
