Kingdom of the Wicked

by Kerri Maniscalco

  I forced myself to breathe. What I had wanted before I recognized him were answers. Now I wanted to carve him into a thousand bloody pieces and serve them to sharks. “Why did you murder my sister?”

  He slowly paced around the summoning circle, likely testing its strength. “Is that what you think? That I ripped out your sister’s heart?”

  “You were standing over her body, licking her blood from your fingers, you revolting beast.” I drew in a furious breath, watching him closely, though it was an effort in futility. His expression was inhumanly blank. Not one emotion betrayed his thoughts. Without thinking, I reached up and clutched my cornicello again. “Why did you murder my sister?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Her death was most inconvenient.”

  “Inconvenient?” I gripped the hilt of his dagger, debating how fast I might shove it into his heart before he hit me back. Not that he had. In fact, he didn’t so much as lay a hand on me while I’d kicked and punched him. Odd for a demon of war. I shook my head. My protection charm was at work, not his conscience. “Yes, I imagine it must’ve been terribly inconvenient for you to find my sister murdered. Why were you in the monastery, then?”

  A faint shimmering gold light flared up and fell back to the earth like a waterfall. It took a second to realize he was only answering me because of the summoning circle. And apparently he was fighting it. Feeling bold, I stepped near the line of bones and asked again, “Why were you there that night?”

  Hatred burned in his eyes. “For your sister.”

  “What did you want her for?”

  He smiled again, but it was more a promise of payback than amusement. “She made a bargain with my brother. I came to collect on it.”

  I turned away quickly, hoping to hide my surprise. I’d suspected that Vittoria had made a bargain with a demon to spell her diary, but I didn’t think she’d summoned one of the Wicked. My focus slid to the basket I’d brought. My twin’s diary was hidden a few feet away. Carolina said it called to the Malvagi, and I wondered if Wrath felt it now. I didn’t want him getting his demon hands on whatever was in there, and decided against asking him to break the spell. I faced him again. “What were the exact terms of the bargain?”

  “Not sure.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He was obviously lying, but I had no way to force the truth from him. Unless I used one of the Forbidden spells. And that seemed like too much dark magic for one night. I was only willing to tempt Fate so much. “What did you do with her heart?”

  “Nothing.” He gritted his teeth. “She was dead when I got there.”

  I winced. Even though there wasn’t anything particularly cruel about what he said, the cold assessment of my sister’s death still hurt. “Why are you so concerned with the exact phrasing of the spell?”

  This time his answer was much slower in coming, as if he was choosing his words very carefully. He finally said, “In order to adhere to its rules, I need to fully understand the protection spell, as you called it. Knowing the phrasing will also help me make sure others adhere to it. We have strict rules we’re governed by in the Seven Circles, and severe penalties if they’re broken.”

  “By ‘others’ do you mean me?” He shook his head. “Who, then?”

  “My brothers.”

  I knew there were seven demon princes, but I didn’t think they were related. Imagining demons having families was disturbing. “Do all demons have to obey these rules, or just princes of Hell?”

  “If we’re exchanging secrets now, I’d like to know how many witches live on this island, and the name of the coven elder from each city. Then you can tell me where the First Witch’s grimoire is and I’ll consider us even.” He smirked at my look of repulsion. “I didn’t think so. But I would like to know the Latin portion of the spell you used tonight.”

  I weighed the benefits against the disadvantages of telling him the protection spell. He couldn’t harm me, that much was clear. And it wasn’t like he could reverse it, only I could do that.

  “Aevitas ligati in aeternus protego.”

  For a second, he didn’t appear to be breathing. He stared at me, his expression close to horror. A deep sense of satisfaction filled me. It wasn’t every day a witch caused that much fear in a demon prince, especially the mighty demon of war.

  “No snide remark?” I asked, not bothering to hide my smug tone. “It’s all right. I know it’s an impressive one.”

  “What’s impressive is how wrong you are.” He crossed his arms, his countenance once again carefully blank. “Regardless of your pedestrian attempt at dark magic, I’ll offer you a bargain in return. The length is negotiable, how we bind it is not.”

  My face heated. Nonna said the Malvagi’s bargains almost always involved kissing—that once they’d locked lips with someone, that person lost their senses entirely. Always craving more, going so far as offering up their soul for another taste of the wicked sin they’d gotten addicted to. I didn’t know if all that was true, but I refused to find out.

  “I’d rather die than subject myself to kissing you, demon.”

  His expression held little humor as he took my measure. It was a slow, deliberate sweep of my body, my stance, the way I aimed his own dagger at his heart. If he looked at the bleached bones that surrounded us, he didn’t give them more than a cursory glance. When he dragged his attention back to my face, something dark lurked in his gaze, forged deep in the pits of Hell.

  Chills ran down my spine, tingling in warning. This was not the kind of prince written about in fairy tales. There was no golden crown sitting atop his dark head, or promises of safety waiting in his sculpted, tattooed arms. He was death and rage and fire and anyone stupid enough to forget that would be consumed by his inferno.

  “One day you might beg me to kiss you.” He stepped close enough for me to stab him. Heat radiated off him. Around me. A bead of sweat rolled between my shoulders, slipped down my spine. I shivered. He smelled of mint and warm summer days—so at odds with the darkness of his luccicare. “You might hate it. Or love it. But temptation will surge through those magical veins of yours, obliterating all common sense. You’ll want me to save you from the endless torment by giving you everything you love to loathe. And when I do, you’ll thirst for more.”

  An image of him pressing me against the wall, the stone sharp as talons in my back, his lips soft but demanding as he tasted me, crossed my mind. My mouth went as dry as the bones in my summoning circle. I would sooner sell my soul than be with him.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing the delicate skin on my neck. I froze. He’d moved so swiftly, I hadn’t even seen him take a step. “You’d need to be the last creature in all the realms combined for me to want you, witch. Even then it might not be enough to tempt me. What I’m offering is a blood trade.”

  TWELVE

  Never enter into a bargain with a demon, but most especially a prince of Hell. The Malvagis’ lies are like sugar—sweet, but deadly when too much is ingested over time. Beware: Very few antidotes can be crafted for such a wicked poison.

  —Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

  My heart thrashed from his proximity, the sound almost as loud as the waves attacking the cliffs below. He lingered a moment before stepping away, like he not only heard it, too, but relished the rhythmic, primal beat. I wondered if it reminded him of war drums, and if he suddenly craved battle. I certainly did. Too many emotions were swirling inside me, making my decision especially hard. My sister’s possible bargain with his brother. Wrath’s blood trade. This whole strange, impossible night. I was barely able to wrap my mind around the fact that the Wicked were not only real, but that one was standing before me, offering a bargain.

  “Well?” he asked. “Do you willingly accept my blood trade?”

  “You haven’t bothered to explain why you’re offering it, so no.”

  He took a deep breath, like the very act of explaining himself to a witch
was exhausting. “Per the terms of your protection spell, I must ensure your safety. The spell binds me from harming you, but it also requires me to grant you protection from others. A blood bond between us will alert other demons that you are a temporary member of House Wrath, and therefore they should not kill or maim you too terribly. There. Will you agree to the blood bond now?”

  Not maiming me too terribly wasn’t the same as not maiming me at all. I stared, lips pursed. After a minute, I slowly shook my head. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re bound until I release you, and I don’t plan on summoning any other demon. Therefore, I don’t need your protection.”

  “First, I’m bound to this circle for three days. Not until you release me. Your… protection charm is different—that is, unfortunately, for eternity now.” He rolled his shoulders, though it didn’t appear to undo the tension in them. “Second, the blood trade will allow me to sense when you’re in danger. Without it, I can’t guarantee your safety. Which puts me in violation of the rules that you made when you crafted that spell.”

  “Is that so.” My tone accused him of being the worst liar I’d ever met. “None of that matters. When our time’s up, I’m releasing you back to Hell, not the shopping district.”

  “Blood of a half-dead demon. This was your first summoning spell, wasn’t it?” He watched me carefully. I glared, but said nothing to deny it. He sighed. “Of course I’m bound to an incompetent fledgling until the end of time. Do us both a favor and don’t accept my offer. I’d prefer to not be your lapdog anyway.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You’d have to come whenever I called for you?”

  “Not exactly, but like I said before, I would know when you needed me.”

  “Why do you care about protecting me?”

  “I don’t. But thanks to your spell I’m forced to, or I’ll risk having my powers diminished. Therefore, I am adhering to the terms. Some of us graciously accept our duty.”

  Sure. When we were magically required to. “How exactly does the protection work?”

  “Demons will sense the bond and reconsider harming you. It might not persuade all of them not to kill you, but it would give them pause. They’d know they’d incur my wrath as punishment for interfering in House matters.”

  Much as I was loath to admit it, having the demon of war as a guardian angel wasn’t the worst luck. I didn’t have to trust or even like him—I only needed to have faith in my own instincts. Right now they were telling me he wasn’t responsible for murdering my sister. I was fairly certain this bargain was more beneficial to him, but I’d eventually find a way to bend it in my favor. And even if I couldn’t, it didn’t matter. Wrath didn’t seem to want me dead, and I needed to be very much alive to discover what happened to Vittoria.

  “Fine. I accept your offer of a blood trade.”

  “Willingly?” he asked. I nodded. “Hand me my dagger.”

  I hesitated for only a second, recalling the protection charm I’d cast on him. For the first time since he appeared in the cave, he looked elated as I slid the blade into his waiting grasp. Before I changed my mind, he cut his finger and enticed a few blood drops to bead up. The wound sealed almost immediately after.

  “I won’t have to… drink it, will I?”

  He cast a quick glance my way. “What sort of stories have you been told about us?”

  I mumbled “wicked blood-drinking deviants,” and he must have heard me because he didn’t bother asking for clarification.

  “Unless you enjoy drinking blood, mixing mine with yours will do.”

  Challenge rose in my steady gaze as I lifted my still-bleeding arm and he pressed his finger to my wound. He seemed just as repulsed by it as I was. I gritted my teeth, trading blood with a demon wasn’t my ideal evening, either, but here we were.

  “Repeat after me, I… whatever your full name is, willingly accept this blood trade with House Wrath for the term of six months.”

  “Six months?” I yanked free of his grasp and bunched my hands into fists. “That’s absurd! What if I don’t want your protection for that long?”

  He rubbed his temples. “What is it that you want, witch? Why did you summon me?”

  “To find out who murdered my sister.”

  “And?”

  I hesitated. I originally wanted to summon a demon to break the spell on my sister’s diary. I definitely didn’t want Wrath knowing about it now. At least not until I knew why Carolina said they’d come looking for it. “That’s it.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “And you haven’t?”

  He shook his head. “Being bound to you prevents me from lying. It would be… discourteous to do so.”

  “Of course. One must always have good manners while ripping the hearts from their enemies.” I looked him over, appraising. I wasn’t simply going to accept his word without proof. “If your magic wasn’t tethered by the protection spell, would you harm me?”

  “If I had to, yes.”

  And he didn’t sound all too put off by the idea. At least I knew he was telling the truth about being unable to lie. Instead of responding, like he seemed primed for, I waited. Nonna said a lot could be gained from reading the silence. He was a demon of war, but I understood strategy, too. It didn’t take long for him to fill the quietness.

  “Believe what you will, but we’re aligned in the common goal of finding your sister’s murderer.”

  He and I weren’t aligned in anything and never would be. Fury whipped around the cave, faster and mightier than the wind now howling outside. He gave me a bored look that made me seethe more. “Why do you care about finding justice for my sister?”

  “I don’t,” he said. “Do not confuse me with a human with noble intentions.”

  “If you want me to trust you enough for a blood bargain, or whatever it’s called, I need to know why you want to solve her murder.”

  He was quiet a minute, seeming to consider what information to share. “I want to stop the murderer before he strikes again. Aligning myself with you isn’t ideal, but it’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I’m playing it to my advantage. Not only are you a witch, like each victim before your sister, you’re also connected to the most recent victim. At some point, I believe you may prove valuable in drawing out the killer; therefore, I’d like to sense when you’re in danger so I can remove the threat.”

  I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand to stall me.

  “I will not give you any more details unless you agree to the blood bond.”

  Wrath wasn’t lying—he wouldn’t tell me anything else unless I agreed. I might be willingly choosing his offer, but it didn’t really seem like I had any other options. I thought about my sister—I knew exactly what she would do. I inhaled deeply. “You’ll tell me more about my sister’s involvement with your brother?”

  “I’ll exchange all necessary information.”

  Tricky demon. All “necessary” information didn’t equal all information. I stared at him, trying to work out the uneasy feeling growing inside me. He claimed the blood bond was part of the protection spell I used, but I wasn’t sure that was all. I thought about him having a link to me. He said he could tell when I was in danger, but I didn’t like the idea of him knowing where I was. Demons might have rules and etiquette, but I knew nothing of them.

  Maybe he considered dragging someone to Hell to reign there for eternity a high honor.

  “Answer one more question for me,” I said. “Aside from not being able to lie, what else are demons forbidden from doing?”

  He waited a beat before responding.

  “We also cannot enter a human home without an invitation. We’re permitted to use our powers, but not to cause direct physical harm. And, once summoned, we are forced to remain in this realm until our invitation is withdrawn.”

  “If I withdrew your invitation now, would you have to leave right away?”

  “Yes. Do we have a bargain?” He looked relaxed, casual. But his eyes were focused, sharp.
He very much wanted me to agree to his offer. I thought about the stories Nonna told us as children, about how the Wicked could never be trusted. Wrath had been specifically named.

  I wanted very much to be more like my twin. But I couldn’t help being me.

  “No, Prince Wrath. I do not accept your blood trade.”

  THIRTEEN

  A witch must never enter into a blood trade with a prince of Hell. By doing so, it allows the one conjured to have a direct link to the witch. It is unclear how long the bond lasts or if it can be broken. Never forget: forging a bond made from love is as dangerous as those made through hate.

  —Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

  Nonna glanced at the dagger strapped to my hip, then pounded chicken like she was envisioning someone’s skull instead. I’d commandeered the weapon again before I’d left the cave, and Wrath had looked very much like Nonna now. If she was that put off by the demon prince’s blade, I couldn’t imagine how upset she’d be if she knew about the magical tattoo we shared.

  I’d chosen a blouse with long fluttering sleeves to hide it. Before I went to bed, I inspected the two crescent moons within the circle of stars. The ink shimmered like moonlight. Despite the fact it bound me to Wrath, I didn’t mind it all that much. It was delicate and pretty.

  Thwack. Thwack. Nonna beat the poor chicken with singular focus. At least today’s house special would be mouthwateringly tender for our customers. It was good some people still had an appetite. I’d certainly lost mine.

  I ignored the way my stomach churned each time I thought about the events of last night. If Nonna knew I’d not only summoned one of the Malvagi, but almost willingly entered into a blood trade with one… I closed my eyes and fought the urge to lay down.

  Nonna might stop pounding the chicken and walk herself off the nearest cliff instead.

  My focus slid to the little clock above the stove. I wanted to finish dinner service and get back to the cave where Wrath was trapped before dark. Tonight I’d demand answers. Aside from his royal standing in Hell, I didn’t know anything about him. For all I knew he was the devil and had his own evil agenda.