“Say I were to die… how long would it take for your powers to start diminishing?”
“Depends on how much magic I expend. If I don’t use much, I could retain them for a small amount of time.”
A small amount of time for an immortal was probably a decade for me. “Can someone else act as an anchor?”
He blew out a breath. “Technically, yes. Any human or denizen of this world can strike a bargain, and agree to anchor a demon. It is rare and not worth the time it would take to find someone, and agree to terms both parties accepted.”
Several moments of silence passed. I tapped my fingers against cool stone. We were hiding in a little alcove off the cathedral square, and it felt like we’d been waiting years for the mysterious messenger to show up. Five minutes in, I quickly discovered standing still wasn’t something I enjoyed very much. When I wasn’t moving, all I could do was think about my sister.
“Why do demons steal souls? Do you need them for something specific?”
I felt the weight of Wrath’s attention as it settled on me. I shifted to see him, surprised to note the level of incredulity he wasn’t bothering to hide. Right. Like he’d have a nice long chat about soul collecting with the enemy. I lifted my hands in placation, and looked away. Inexplicably, I turned back to him a breath later.
“Why do you think hearts are being taken?”
“Are you asking so many questions in hopes of frightening off the messenger before I can scare information from him?”
“I want to know what you think.”
There was such a long pause, I didn’t think he’d answer. “We don’t have enough information to speculate. And it’s unwise to make assumptions without fact.”
“Do you believe anything would want to…”
“Eat them? Yes. Plenty of creatures find freshly beating hearts to be the most supreme delicacies, witch. Then there’s the ritualistic significance. Sacrifice. Sport. Summoning. And plain old depravity. That level of sadism isn’t limited to one species, so we’re back where we started.”
I felt sick. “A simple yes would have sufficed,” I said quietly.
“What you want is for me to say something comforting.” His voice was like steel when he faced me. “Lying and saying your sister felt no pain serves no purpose to you. I imagine, no matter the reason, whoever or whatever took her heart, did so while she was very much alive and very conscious. I promise you, there is no strategic value in getting lost in emotional entanglements. Hone your anger and sorrow into weapons of use, or go back home and cry until the monsters come for you. Because come for you they will.”
“I’m not afraid of monsters.”
“You may think so now, but my brothers delight in bending creatures like you to their will. They’ll feed you their emotions and siphon yours until you don’t know where you end and they begin. There are many forms of Hell. Pray to your goddesses you never have to experience them firsthand. You need to be sharp and focused, or you’ll end up just as dead as the others.”
Tears pricked my eyes. Not from sadness, but pent-up rage. “I am focused, you steaming sack of horse manure. All I dream about is avenging my sister. Don’t you dare accuse me of being too emotional. I will destroy anything that gets in the way of achieving my ends. Even you. And I’m not scared, or else I never would’ve summoned you to begin with!”
“You should be terrified.” His gaze practically pinned me in place. “Vengeance is a potent emotion. It makes you easy prey to both humans and demons alike. Never let someone know what your true motivations are. If they know what you want more than anything, they’ll craft all sorts of sweet lies and half-truths to manipulate you. They’ll know exactly how far they can push, what to offer, and what you would never refuse, giving them the upper hand. Your first goal should be to remain alive. Figure out everything else as you go.”
“You know my true goals.”
“Yes. I do. And it was an extremely foolish mistake on your part to tell me. Make no bones about it. All it takes is a bit of prodding, a tiny push to annoy you and you immediately fall into the trap of lashing out in fury. And in that burning rage you told me everything I need to know about what you want.” He shook his head. “What will you promise me, Emilia, in exchange for your deepest desire? What wouldn’t you do to achieve justice for the sister you love? Now I know there’s no price too high to demand. I can ask anything, and you’d give it.”
We were standing very close now, each of us breathing very hard. I hated that he was right. He didn’t even manipulate my emotions like Envy had; he didn’t have to. He’d simply goaded me into telling him my deepest desires out of anger. And he only had to push a little bit to get me to snap. Furious with myself for being outmaneuvered by a demon, I did the best thing I knew how—I lied like the devil.
I stuck my finger in Wrath’s chest and poked him hard. “If you think that’s everything that motivates me, you’re sadly mistaken, demon. And why do you care anyway?”
He slowly wrapped his fingers around mine, halting my assault on him. He didn’t let go and I wondered if he realized I’d stopped poking him the second his blazing skin touched mine. Now he was just holding my hand against his chest, his heart hammering beneath my touch.
And I was allowing it.
I regained my senses and stepped away.
“That’s the fourth time you’ve lied to me, witch.”
It really stoked his anger, too. I smiled demurely. “Maybe you should tell me more about the curse. I’d like to know more about that part.”
“Fine. You want to know the bloody details? The curse—”
“Signore, is… should I return in a little while?” A man somewhere between thirty and forty stood a few feet away, wringing a letter in his hands. “Your brother said—”
From one breath to the next Wrath had the messenger up against the wall, his forearm pressed hard against the man’s windpipe. Blood dripped from the messenger’s nose onto his tunic and the demon closed his eyes as if in utter rapture.
“Hello, Francesco. Pardon my rudeness, but I hear you’ve been selling my secrets. If we were in the Walled City, you’d already be dead. Consider this a favor.”
I stood there, frozen. Half in shock, half in horror. Wrath had exploded in violence faster than it took me to suck in a startled breath.
“Did I ever tell you the scent of blood drives me into a near frenzy, witch? Your kind believes we crave the taste of it, but princes of Hell don’t usually drink blood. It’s power we’re intoxicated by. The more I allow someone to bleed, the more power I hold over their life.”
I blinked. I could barely form a coherent thought. I forgot, through our bantering, who Wrath really was. I imagined I was seeing only a small fraction of what he could do.
He leaned harder into the human whose face was now a deep purple. If Wrath pushed any harder, the man was going to die. I made to step forward, then stopped.
“I crave power more than money, or blood, or lust. And there’s no greater power than choice. I’d lie for it. Steal, cheat, maim, and murder. If I could, I’d sell my soul again for it, witch.”
“Sell your…” I shook my head. Demons were soulless creatures.
Wrath opened his eyes and turned to me, his irises glowed bright gold in the dark. There wasn’t anything human in them, and I realized he’d been keeping this part of himself under lock and key. Some claimed the Wicked were angels before they committed unforgivable sins, and were cast out of heaven. Now I understood how those stories started—Wrath’s gaze blazed with heavenly fire. He was wrathful justice: pure, swift, and completely unforgiving.
Ignoring my growing fear, I turned over his admission, and understood what he was really saying; he was offering me a choice. I had the power to walk away from what he was about to do. Or I could choose to stay and take part in it.
I thought of my sister’s ravaged body, and the other witches who’d died just as brutally because this man shared information about the messages he carried.
Wrath said he was going to scare the messenger to find out who he’d been selling secrets to. His sudden burst of violence shouldn’t have surprised me. I nodded, almost imperceptibly, but the demon understood.
Wrath faced the messenger again. “Who paid you to open my letter, Francesco?”
The man’s attention shot to me, searching for assistance. Wrath looked me over slowly again, waiting. Francesco made his choice. Now it was time to make mine.
“The prince asked you a simple question, Francesco. I’ll repeat it once for your benefit and then I’ll let him ask his way. And I’m sure you already know that won’t be pleasant.” I injected a ruthless charm into my tone like Wrath’s, and the man flinched. “Who paid you to open his letter?”
Wrath kept staring at me. And even though his expression hadn’t shifted in the slightest, I swore I almost sensed… approval. My stomach tightened and I fought the urge to be sick. If I’d done the right thing, I didn’t think I’d feel so ill.
Francesco gurgled and scratched at the arm still pressed against his windpipe, his nails snagging on the demon’s cuff. I hoped Wrath wouldn’t strangle him to death before we got our answers.
The demon prince must have suddenly eased up on the pressure because Francesco gulped air like a fish yanked from the water. “Would you feel more comfortable talking with my blade at your throat?”
Francesco’s golden skin blanched, but I noticed his hands fisting at his sides. Wrath was using his powers, and the messenger was getting mad. His chest rapidly rose and fell. “Do what you want, but I won’t tell you a thing, demon pig.”
“Really?” Wrath smiled, a flash of teeth that seemed to put Francesco on the verge of pissing himself despite his newfound rage. “Let’s test that out, mortal. Who do you work for?”
“God.” The man spit in the demon’s face, and the glob slowly dripped to the ground. Wrath’s blade was under the man’s chin in an instant, the tip pressed hard enough for blood to slide along the metal. It looked like it took all of his willpower to not shove the dagger through the human and into the stone he leaned against, severing his spinal cord. Shadows seemed to pulse from Wrath. For a second, I wasn’t sure if the demon of war would end him right there.
“Apologies, Francesco. But my patience is growing thin. Your actions sent four women to their deaths. Do not think I will not send you to yours just as brutally.”
“Go ahead and kill me. I won’t tell you anything.” Francesco’s head cracked against the wall when Wrath slammed him back. Blood dribbled from the human’s mouth as he laughed, delighting in the violence. He smiled, teeth stained red with blood. “I hope you all rot in Hell.”
I felt Wrath’s rage turn from a simmer into a full boil. Soon, whether he meant to or not, he’d kill Francesco. And we’d lose our biggest chance at discovering who murdered my twin. I heard both Nonna’s and Wrath’s warnings singing through my head, but it didn’t matter.
We were out of options and the anger raging around us was growing intense enough to burn. Wrath was about to snap. I pulled his emotions to me, using them as fuel for my truth spell as I clutched my sister’s amulet.
“Did you open the letter?” I asked, my voice laced with magical command. Wrath’s attention snapped to me and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think fear entered his features.
Francesco nodded before answering. “Y-yes.”
“Did anyone pay you to do it?”
“Yes.”
“Who paid you, Francesco? Greed?”
“No.”
“Tell me who paid you then.”
“I do not know his name.”
“Is he human?”
He lifted a shoulder. “He wore a hood. I didn’t see his face.”
“Did you tell him where Giulia would be the night she was murdered?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Did you meet with him today?”
“Yes.”
My anger flared up. “What information did you give him?”
“A-a-another address. And a time to meet. I didn’t have a name this time, I swear!”
“What time and address did you give him, Francesco?”
“Th-th-th-the Piazza Vigliena. M-m-midnight.”
I looked at Wrath for further instruction, but he shook his head. The truth spell was nearly up. Blood spilled from the human’s nose, and his eyes had turned glassy. If I pushed any more, he’d die. I glanced down, noticing my whole body trembled. Wrath stepped close to him.
“If you ever share my secrets again, I’ll cut out your tongue. Then I’ll carve out your heart. Have I made myself clear?” He gave Wrath the barest hint of a nod, careful to not slice his own throat. Sweat dampened his hairline. He really didn’t look well. “Next time you’re tasked with carrying a message for me, don’t let curiosity or greed get the better of you. Those conditions often prove deadly.”
I couldn’t help but notice the trickle of urine streaming down the man’s leg as the demon let his weapon drop. He stared from Wrath to me, a deep crease forming in his brow. He blinked slowly as if awakening from a dream. Or a nightmare.
“Who… who are you? Why am I here? P-please… don’t hurt me. If you’re looking for money, I don’t have any.” He turned out his pockets. There was nothing but lint. “See?”
My nausea from earlier was back and almost had me doubling over. I’d invaded his mind, and must have destroyed his recent memories. Dark magic demanded a price. And it didn’t always come in the form someone expected. Guilt swirled through me. Just because I had power, didn’t mean I should abuse it. “You’re—”
Wrath flashed me a warning look. “You’re Francesco Parelli Senior, and you’re on your way home. You had too much to drink. You better hurry before Angelica gets mad again. Do you remember the way?”
Francesco swiped at a tear and shook his head. He seemed so fragile now, so lost. And I’d done that to him. Not some demon, or horrible creature from Hell. Me. I’d broken the most important rule of this world. I’d taken his free will, and I’d bent it to mine.
Wrath turned Francesco toward the cathedral, handed him a coin purse, and whispered in his ear.
I stared at the demon’s back, heart racing. Wrath could’ve easily left the man alone in his new hell, but didn’t. Just like he could have easily demanded I trade my soul in exchange for justice for my twin. He knew what I wanted and what I’d be willing to give up for it, and had asked for nothing. I didn’t think there was mercy in Hell. But maybe I was wrong.
Wrath gritted his teeth. “What?”
“You could have killed him.”
“Don’t. I beat him and you stole his freedom of choice. His memories will eventually return, but that piece of your soul will not. I would have gotten our information without magic. There’s an old saying about fools rushing in where angels fear to tread. From now on, I suggest you heed the warning. Come on.” He walked deeper into the shadows. “We need to get to Quattro Canti.”
If he didn’t want to discuss the forbidden magic I used to get our information, that was fine with me. I already felt like my skin was crawling with grave worms. “Why?”
“The real messenger is waiting for us there.”
TWENTY-NINE
Before we waltzed into the middle of the baroque square, Wrath situated us in another crammed alley. He claimed it was to get a better idea of the layout, and any traps other demons—like Greed or Envy—might have set. He politely asked me to wait while he strode over to a young man with a scar carving a path through his right cheek. Since he asked nicely, I decided to agree… temporarily. Letting him go ahead afforded me an opportunity to observe him, and the new messenger, on my own.
The human was intriguing. His stunning combination of dark features and upswept eyes hinted at North African and Asian ancestry. He hadn’t noticed me peering from the shadows nearby, but I saw him clearly enough.
He leaned against a building, digging imaginary dirt from shorn nails with a deadly looking blade. He
projected a sense of boredom, but his gaze tracked the movements of everything around him with a predator’s focus. Even the demon prince.
Wrath marched over without hesitation, and I was unfortunately a little too far away to make out their conversation. Judging from the amount of eye-rolling the human was doing, I imagined Wrath was lecturing about something. I quietly drifted closer.
“… suspects the truth, Anir. I’m sure the others will in time, too.”
“Too late for regrets now,” the human, Anir, said. His voice was familiar, I just couldn’t place it. “With everything going on… it might be a good thing. I mean, you chose to do the ritual. Right? Is it really that bad?”
“She’s a demon-blooded damned witch. What do you think?”
Were they talking about me? I curled my hands into fists, my nails creating little crescent moons in my palms. He was a high-handed, arrogant, no-good demon from Hell. But I wasn’t harping on his less-than-appealing qualities, was I? No. I was mature enough to set them aside to work together to stop a murderer from slaughtering any more witches.
“Sounds like a lovely girl. Will you be properly introducing us? You’ve only got—”
Wrath yanked Anir up by his collar, his feet swinging a good inch or two off the ground. I sucked in a quiet breath. It didn’t look like lifting a grown man caused any strain for the demon prince at all. “Finish that sentence, and I’ll give the other side of your face a scar, too.”
“Apologies. Did I strike a nerve?” Anir held up his hands in mock surrender, not bothering to hide his grin. It held no fear and little humor. I decided if I wasn’t so aggravated, I might like him. He was either very brave or very foolish to taunt the demon of war. “Don’t get pissy. Right now it’s only temporary. And she’s—”
“Behind us.” Wrath dropped the human and he gracefully caught himself from stumbling. “Emilia, this is Anir, my most trusted associate. He knows who agreed to marry Pride next.”
I slipped out from the shadows and inspected the young man. “You were there the night I was attacked by the Viperidae.”
Kingdom of the Wicked Page 19
