Kingdom of the Wicked

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Feeling hopeful for the first time in what felt like ages, I set the candles up in a circle and lit them, placed freshly cut ferns and bones down, then began the summoning. I used a bit of my own blood in offering, and fed the circle a few drops.

  “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.”

  I knelt there, waiting for the telltale smoke of Wrath’s arrival. Seconds passed. I kept my hope in check. Last time, seconds after the incantation was done, the first signs of his arrival had occurred. Maybe, since he was greatly injured, he needed a bigger offering. I squeezed a few more droplets of blood into the circle. Nothing happened.

  “Come on, demon.”

  I went over the ritual again. Adjusting the ferns, bones, and candles until they formed a perfect circle. I set my ring inside the containment area, then dripped more blood.

  “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.”

  I left out the Latin again, seeing as the last time it ended in an unplanned betrothal and Wrath said it wasn’t necessary. When all remained silent, I tried one final time, and used the same incantation that would bind us together in unholy matrimony if Wrath accepted it.

  “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.”

  A stiff breeze blew one of the candles out. I waited, breath held, for the mighty demon of war to rise. Immortal. Furious. Breathtaking. I braced myself for a lecture that was sure to come. Moments came and went, but there was no smoke, or sign I’d summoned anything. I waited and waited. Birds began calling to each other outside; morning wasn’t far off. And the spell for Wrath could only be cast at night.

  Still, I tried again, hoping this time would do it.

  Eventually, the last of my hope was extinguished. Nonna said as long as he lived, Wrath would come. The fact that he didn’t appear filled me with dread. I thought back to the very beginning, when I’d prayed to the goddess of death and fury, and couldn’t help but wonder if she finally exacted the revenge I no longer wanted against him.

  I watched the candles flicker, wishing they’d set the bedding and whole palace on fire. It would only be fitting for the rest of my world to go up in flames. Wrath was really, truly gone. And with him he’d taken the last of my hope.

  The Horn of Hades was in my possession, but I wasn’t sure how to use it to close the gates of Hell. My family had fled, Antonio was kidnapped by Envy, and my best friend’s mind was still trapped between realms. Umbra demons had infiltrated this city, and I had no idea how to get rid of them all.

  I blew out the summoning candles one by one until I was left completely in the dark.

  FORTY-FIVE

  By the time the sun spread its first rays across the sea, I was already dressed for battle. I stood in the mirror and finished braiding half my hair into a coronet, and left the other half down in loose waves. I secured the upper portion with two large diamond-encrusted olive branch clips that—with the exception of the precious stones—matched my new ring. I dabbed my lips with wine-colored stain and swept kohl across my lids.

  I stepped back and admired my work; I looked dangerous. My dress was a deep berry with capped sleeves made entirely from gold scales. It was dark enough to hide blood, but wasn’t another all-black ensemble. I didn’t mind the color—it just felt too much like mourning.

  And I was completely through with feeling sad.

  Wrath said I had a choice—I could either be a victim or a victor. And, much as I was loath to admit it, he was right. Others would always be out there, trying to knock me down, to tell me who I was or who they thought I should be. People carved words into weapons often, but they only had power if I listened to them instead of trusting in myself.

  If my enemies wanted to create doubt in me, I’d believe in my own abilities even more. Even if I had to fake it until it felt real.

  I left the Zisa and headed deep into the heart of the city.

  I cut a swath around Old Town and headed to Ballarò Market where food stands had been set up around the royal palace. I wasn’t surprised to see the Nuccis already had a small gathering of people waiting for their arancini and panelle. Both fried rice balls and fried salted chickpea pancakes were popular street food.

  Domenico Senior blotted his brow with a cloth and passed out a bag of food. I was happy to see him away from Greed’s gambling den. It made one part of my plan easier.

  I watched as his line slowly thinned, and people walked away with their bags of food. My stomach grumbled at the sight and smells, and I decided purchasing something was a good excuse to talk. I needed to eat anyway.

  “Buongiorno, Signorina di Carlo. What would you like today?”

  “Panelle with extra lemon wedges, please.”

  The elder Nucci fried the flat pancakes to perfection, hit them with some sea salt, then added them to a paper bag with an extra wedge of lemon. I handed my coins over, and drifted to the side where his awning provided a bit of shade. “How is Domenico Junior?”

  “He in trouble?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I pulled one of Wrath’s favorite tricks and ignored it. “My sister had mentioned him, and I’ve heard he’s been spending a lot of time at the monastery. It must be hard on him, losing someone he cared about.”

  Domenico Senior’s gaze drifted to the person standing behind me before he passed out an order of arancini, and set another few into the fryer basket. “He’s all right. He left for Calabria this morning to help his cousin.”

  I stopped chewing my panelle. Of all times for Domenico Junior to leave home, it was odd that he chose now. I changed tactics. “Have you spent any time in that gambling hall?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t too rude. “I need to find it as soon as possible.”

  He shook his head. “Afraid I can’t help you. I heard the guy who runs it left.”

  Internally I screamed and cursed the goddess of missed opportunities. I was about to leave when I noticed a strange tattoo inked onto his forearm. A pawprint clutching what appeared to be a fennel stalk. My gaze fell to the side of his food cart—the same symbol was painted there. I’d been wrong. I’d never seen it in my sister’s diary. I’d seen it the day Wrath and I had tried to get close to investigate the murder of Giulia Santorini. My breath caught as it finally clicked into place. Signore Nucci was a shape-shifter.

  I swallowed hard, and slowly dragged my attention up. Domenico Senior noticed me staring at his tattoo, and hastily rolled his sleeve back down despite the heat of the day.

  His reaction set off warning bells.

  I thought back to my sister’s diary. All it had said was Domenico Nucci. There had never been a mention of junior or senior…

  “It’s you,” I said, dropping my bag of panelle. “Vittoria wrote your name in her diary. It’s never been Domenico Junior. Did you hurt her? Did she find out what you are?”

  “It’s not—don’t shout those kind of accusations around. Give me a second.”

  Domenico flipped the stand’s sign to CLOSED, and motioned for me to follow him around the corner where there was less foot traffic. I didn’t want to leave the crowds, and he seemed to know that. He stopped where we were still surrounded, but couldn’t be overheard.

  “Your sister passed out drinks at Greed’s gambling den.”

  My heart beat wildly. Finally, after all this time, I had another hint about what Vittoria had been up to right before she was killed. “And? Did she know what you are?” He nodded. “Did you ever see her with Greed?”

  “Yeah. She came to him one night with an idea. They were working on a plan they both felt comfortable with.”

  “How did you get involved in all this?” He didn’t seem inclined to respond, so I pulled the knife I’d hidden in my bodice and let the sun glint off the blade. I’d learned a good
many tricks from the demon of war. “One way or another I will get my information, signore. The choice is up to you on how we go about it.”

  “All right, all right.” He swallowed hard and glanced around. “You know about the benandanti.”

  I nodded. Everyone did. “Shape-shifters, in a sense. Their spirits change into animal forms to astral travel four times a year. They also fight in the Night Battles.”

  “Well, that’s what the benandanti are. We’re not them, but they have taken on our symbol so we’re often confused. We can physically shape-shift whenever we please. We’re called Ember Wolves. The benandanti are human, we are not. At least not entirely. Most would say we’re werewolves.”

  “Werewolves,” I repeated. “You physically change into a wolf?”

  Domenico Senior nodded.

  I took a moment to recover. I had never heard of an Ember Wolf, but there were plenty of tales about werewolves. From old stories I’d been told, the wolves stuck with their pack and were loyal only to each other. I didn’t understand how or why he’d associate with the demons.

  “Why were you with Greed?”

  His gaze dropped to the ground. “We made a bargain.”

  A memory of seeing him with stacks of gambling chips crossed my mind. I had a sinking suspicion I knew where this was going. “Did he promise to forgive your debts if you helped him?”

  He nodded. “I thought it was a fool’s bargain for him. Then I found out it wasn’t his idea to begin with. He said all he wanted was for the wolves to fight on the side of the devil when the time comes. We haven’t shifted in nearly two decades, so I didn’t think the bargain held value.”

  “Why haven’t you shifted?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “No one is sure. One day we could, and the next we couldn’t.”

  “But that changed recently, didn’t it?” I asked. “Did someone shift forms?”

  “When a boy celebrates his twentieth year, he usually changes for the first time.”

  And I’d bet anything Domenico had a birthday recently, and was very surprised when he turned into a wolf. “You didn’t tell your son what you were?”

  He slowly shook his head. “It had been so long… I didn’t think it would happen. When Dom shifted, I knew we were in trouble. I told him what I’d promised.” He swiped a tear from his cheek. “The disappointment in my son’s eyes was enough to end me. The shame I’ve brought to our legacy, our family. Wolves do not fight for anyone outside of our pack. Now Dom prays at the monastery for me and for himself, hoping everyone will forgive my sins.”

  “How did my sister figure out what you are?”

  He considered that a moment. “I’m not sure. But she was the one who told Greed to bargain with me. When the deal was struck, she made me promise to keep my word to him.”

  “Vittoria set up the bargain between you and Greed?” I asked, heart hammering. “You’re sure that was her idea and not his?”

  “Positive,” Signore Nucci said. “It was part of her bigger plan. But she never told me what that was, so I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I was only told to be ready when they called on us.”

  I let out a slow breath. Vittoria had found a way to force two enemies to work together. A united front to fight the true enemy. Which was still an unknown. I considered this new information carefully. My sister had believed in Greed. I’d believed in Wrath. And Envy was still the obvious murderer except… he hadn’t bragged about ripping hearts from anyone’s body, and he didn’t have my amulet. Which meant our murderer could still be out there. “Domenico isn’t really on the mainland, is he?”

  “No,” Signore Nucci admitted, sniffling. “He’s at the monastery.”

  All roads kept leading back to the monastery. And I no longer believed in coincidences.

  My sister’s body was found there.

  Claudia’s scrying session went horribly wrong there.

  Domenico prayed there almost daily, but, according to Claudia, he also spoke with members of the brotherhood. I’d bet anything he may have confided his troubles to the wrong person, especially with how they acted the night I found Claudia.

  I bid Signore Nucci good-bye and hurried off to hunt down my next clue.

  Before Vittoria was murdered and my world went to Hell, Nonna said there were witch hunters actively seeking prey on the island. I’d ruled them out after I’d summoned Wrath and found three other princes of Hell roaming the earth. But maybe I’d been too hasty.

  If someone wanted to kill witches, the holy order was the perfect suspect. Who better to eradicate the world from evil than those ordained by God?

  I thought back to the night I’d found Claudia, to Brother Carmine, who’d had a murderous gleam in his eyes. He’d stepped forward, looking hungry for blood. I knew he despised witches, and he hadn’t given one of his vitriolic speeches in the marketplace in years. I could only imagine how much he’d love to climb back onto his soapbox and spew more hatred.

  His open contempt for magic-users made him a prime suspect for a witch hunter.

  Today, one way or another, I’d uncover the secrets the holy brotherhood were keeping.

  FORTY-SIX

  A group of robed figures was gathered in the courtyard. Tension was as thick as the summer heat among the brotherhood. One of their members was missing, and several young women were dead. I wasn’t surprised they were blaming the devil. I hid near the edge of the main building and my gaze swept around the crowd, searching for one member I knew I wouldn’t find.

  Brother Carmine stood at the center, his hand punching the sky with each impassioned word that left his mouth. Apparently I’d arrived at the apex of his speech.

  “Our God is a mighty God, and will not tolerate an infestation of evil,” he said. “We must lead by His example in these dark and troubling times. The hour of judgment is upon us. We must stop the devil before he sows the seeds of his wicked ways! Come, let us speak the Good Word to our fellow man. Let us lead them into their Salvation.”

  “Amen!” they all yelled in unison.

  The crowd disbanded toward the city, off to save human souls. I inched around the corner and released a tight breath. Brother Carmine wasn’t talking about the devil breaking the curse, but what he said was a little alarming in its accuracy. For once, human souls really were in danger. My suspicion of him deepened. If a mysterious group of witch hunters had formed, it was very, very likely I’d just located them. I was contemplating whether or not I should follow him when I felt the call of magic coming from within the monastery. It was just like the night I’d found Vittoria’s body.

  If not more powerful.

  Maybe I was just better at sensing it now. Or perhaps it had something to do with the full set of horns in my possession. I removed my sister’s cornicello from where I’d hidden it in my dress and held it up. Even for a non-human witch it seemed sacrilegious to wear the devil’s horns into a holy space. But there was no way I’d go inside without protection. I slipped her cornicello on along with the one I already wore, feeling a prickle of magic in my veins.

  Before I slipped inside, I cast one final look around. All was quiet now. The brotherhood was gone. I crossed the small courtyard and pushed the door open. As I hurried past the mummies in an otherwise empty corridor, I felt… something watching.

  I turned in place, and scanned the hallway that used to cause my heart to speed and my hands to shake. This time, when my pulse raced, it wasn’t because I was afraid of what I’d find. I wanted someone to try and attack me.

  “Show yourself.”

  Unlike in the novels Vittoria loved reading, no villain emerged with a dark chuckle to wax poetic over its master’s evil plans. No one emerged at all. I was truly alone. I closed my eyes, grabbed the Horn of Hades, breathed in deeply, and centered myself. When I looked down the seemingly empty corridor of the dead again, I heard faint whispers.

  They weren’t of this world.

  I shut out everything else except the sound of hushed voices. I fol
lowed it, traveling deeper into the catacombs. I noted each turn and new hallway I entered, hoping I’d find my way back out again if I had to run. I’d never been this far into the monastery before; I didn’t even know there were so many labyrinthine corridors that twisted and turned deep, deep into the center of the earth.

  As I continued on silently, the hum of voices grew louder. My nerves tingled. Something magical was close. And it was powerful. Part of me wanted to ignore it and run. But too much was at stake. I pressed on, forcing myself to face my fears.

  Several minutes later, I stopped in a dank hallway carved of limestone with a lone torch set into a sconce. Light flickered menacingly, like an annoyed cat’s tail. I didn’t need the sign from the goddess to know something dangerous was close by. I couldn’t tell if my stomach twisted in trepidation or anticipation. One way or another, something was about to happen.

  A door near the end of the hallway was slightly cracked open in invitation. I took the last few steps and paused beside it. It very well could be a trap, but the whispers had turned frantic now.

  I needed to see what was in there. I inched closer, pulse pounding, and pushed the door a bit wider. From the outside, the room looked empty. Looks were often deceiving. Before I entered it, I peered around just to be sure it wasn’t a trap. Dust motes spun in circles. All was quiet. Illusions were deceptively easy magic—they often projected what you expected to find.

  I should have known better.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  The moment I crossed the threshold, I knew I’d made a mistake. It felt as if the air was a band that snapped out and locked me in place. I pushed back toward the door, but it was no use. I’d stay in this room until whoever had set the containment spell decided to set me free.