I couldn’t think with him standing so near. I desperately needed a moment to myself. To collect my thoughts and decide how to proceed. And I couldn’t accomplish any of those things with the half-naked demon crowding my space. Power surged through my veins.
Before Wrath dazzled me with more charm, I whispered a containment spell that must have been fueled with his demon magic because it did not go as planned. One second he was standing there, and the next he was gone. Winked out of existence. It happened so quickly, but I’d managed to catch a glimpse of his face before he’d disappeared. He’d looked so… betrayed.
A mix of emotion haunted me for several minutes. He was my enemy. Even if he’d saved me. That one act of goodness didn’t erase that fact. And yet I wasn’t sure if I hoped I’d sent him back to the underworld, or if I hoped he was imprisoned in the cave again. It shouldn’t matter where he was.
Even if I felt slightly guilty for using his own magic against him, I refused to let it color my judgment. He had his mission and I had mine. That was it. I rummaged around on the floor, but couldn’t find my clothes. Damned demon. Of all the ways he could take his vengeance, I didn’t predict walking through city streets naked to be one of them.
I glanced up, ready to curse Wrath to Hell again, and noticed a new dress folded in a neat pile in the corner where he’d been standing. I lifted it up, surprised by its beauty. Dark skirts had tastefully placed gold glitter sprinkled across them—not unlike his shimmering luccicare. Black sheer sleeves fell gracefully from an off-the-shoulder top. And a gold corset with thorns and wings stiched across the back finished it off. I forgot my clothing had been torn during the Viperidae attack. Some feeling I’d rather not dwell on took shape as I held the gown. I shoved it away.
The demon prince’s magic crackled under my skin, infected my soul. I didn’t want to like how alive it made me feel.
I quickly dressed, needing a mundane task to focus on while my feelings darted from one extreme to the next. With Wrath gone, it was only marginally easier to think. Mostly because my thoughts kept returning to him—to the expression on his face. I’d hurt his feelings. And it… bothered me. What a ludicrous turn of events. His family sent invisible ghost demons to attack my grandmother and steal my cornicello, and I was feeling bad about potentially banishing a demon to Hell. Where he lived and ruled. Probably happily. In the height of demonic luxury. With fire and brimstone and an orchestra of the screaming souls of the damned.
Still, it might have been a rash decision. Unpleasantness aside, Wrath could be useful to my quest for justice. I was almost positive he had ulterior motives for aligning himself with me, but when I really needed him, he’d been there. That act, above everything else, told me enough.
My soul was safe with him.
Which meant we could set our differences aside and work together to solve Vittoria’s murder. Neither one of us would love the idea, but at least I could trust that he wouldn’t kill me. As of now, the evidence was pointing to a prince of Hell being responsible for the murders, not witch hunters. After what happened with Greed and the attack on Nonna, I needed Wrath on my side.
I blew out a long breath, hoping it was a sound decision.
Goddess curse me, now I had to find out where I’d sent the Prince of Wrath.
I grabbed his shirt, and stole into the city to track down my missing prince of Hell.
TWENTY-TWO
“If you want me to speak with you now, ask nicely.”
I wouldn’t call it relief, but a knot in my chest loosened when I found Wrath stuck in the summoning circle again. He wasn’t angry like I’d expected, only a touch bemused. I supposed he didn’t expect to be banished right after saving my life. Which was fair. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to repay him that way, either. “Are all demons mad, or is it just you?”
He blew out a breath. “You’re not the most pleasant viper in the pit, are you? Thanking someone who saved your life by imprisoning them isn’t how things are done in my realm. There’s no denying you could stand to work on your manners.”
All thoughts of striking a tentative alliance left me. A demon lecturing about manners was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. The very nerve of him. I fired off a dozen different suggestions—that included farm animals—for what he could do with his remaining time on earth.
“Charming. I wonder where your creativity comes from, perhaps personal experience?” Bickering wasn’t getting us anywhere, and I had more important things to do. Apparently, Wrath felt the same way. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “What’s got your skirts all twisted, witch?”
“Nothing.”
“If it’s about the spell I used, or the dress…”
“It’s not.” For some reason, now that I was near him again, I wasn’t quite ready to ask for his help solving my sister’s murder. I needed some other assurance that this was the best course of action. And there was one thing he might be able to answer that would help me make up my mind. If he didn’t laugh himself to death first. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “An invisible demon attacked my grandmother yesterday. And before that, I think… I think it was stalking me.”
I expected him to mock me, or ask if I’d recently indulged in too many spirits. Instead he studied me very carefully. “Did it speak to you?”
I nodded. “It said, ‘he’s coming.’”
Wrath paced around the bone circle. “Sounds like an Umbra demon. But for it to be here and speak to you… did it say anything else?”
“I—I don’t remember exactly. The first time it said something about memories and hearts being stolen.”
“The first time?” He swung around to stare at me. Wrath wasn’t very good at showing a wide range of emotions, probably because he was an immortal being spawned in Hell and not a human, but was clearly surprised at this news. “Exactly how many times have you encountered it?”
“Maybe three? I thought I was being followed in the monastery… that night… then I found my sister and didn’t think about it again.” I started walking around the outer edge of the circle. “What’s an Umbra demon?”
“Mercenary spies, mostly. They sell their services to any royal House that has use for them. There are a few who are only loyal to Pride. They’re mostly incorporeal and are very hard to kill. Magic doesn’t always work on them the way you’d imagine it to.”
Very hard to kill wasn’t impossible to kill. A silver lining if ever there was one. “If it’s supposed to be spying, why reveal itself?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it, witch? They typically don’t speak at all.”
“Do you think Greed hired it?”
“Why would I think that?”
I looked him over for signs of deception. Surely he knew his brother was here. “Because I spoke with him in his gambling den right before my grandmother was attacked. And I may have tricked him into giving me more information than he’d originally agreed to. It’s not his sin, but I’m sure his royal pride was injured.”
“Funny.” Wrath gave me a dry look. “It is nearly impossible to fool a prince of Hell.”
“Well, unless he was lying about who he was, tricking him wasn’t that hard.” I couldn’t tell if Wrath believed me, and I didn’t care. “You said that some Umbra demons are loyal to Pride… do you think he sent them?”
Given the fact that it stole one of his horns, it seemed likely. But Wrath didn’t know that’s what I’d been after when I’d invaded the Viperidae nest. I was interested in his response.
“It’s possible, but not probable. Not when I’m here. An Umbra demon can’t transvenio to the underworld. They can only slip between realms if a prince sends them, or if they’re summoned. And even then that sort of power can only be used during specific periods.”
“How does traveling between realms work?”
“It’s like plucking threads of time, and weaving them in different places.”
Vague. “If someone was trying to summon the devil… would you be a
ble to tell?”
Wrath cut a sharp glance my way. “He can’t be summoned.”
“What if someone had the Horn of Hades? Could Pride be summoned then?”
The demon prince went very still. His surprise only lasted a second before a slow smile spread across his face. “You’ve been busy.”
I had been, and I’d done a decent job so far of tracing my sister’s steps, but now I needed help. Wrath might be my enemy, but he’d saved my life. I hoped it meant I could trust him.
I thought carefully about what I wanted to do next. His responses about the Umbra demon reminded me of my twin and the way she’d take notes in her diary, and it put me at ease. It was like Vittoria was giving her blessing for this most unusual of unions. I reminded myself that Wrath could have easily tried taking my soul or bargaining for my life as I lay dying. And he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he sacrificed his own power without expecting payment.
“Will you help me figure out if… that happened?”
“If someone summoned Pride?” he asked. I nodded. He looked highly skeptical. “We’d need to know the place where the summoning was attempted. And nothing is guaranteed. Was the Horn of Hades combined, or was just one horn used?”
“Just one.” I inhaled. “And I know where to start. So you’ll help?”
“You need to be more specific when asking to break the containment charm. And don’t forget to use my title. It is polite to do so.” I glanced down at his dagger I’d retrieved from home, then flicked my attention back to his. He grinned again; this time it was filled with genuine amusement. “Not my rules.”
“Will you please leave the bone circle and assist me in finding out if someone summoned Pride, Prince Wrath?”
It was the first time I’d ever broken a containment spell, and it was strange. I didn’t have to whisper an incantation, simply requesting him to leave the summoning circle did the trick.
An electric charge in the atmosphere filled the cave, expanding slowly until it pushed the containment circle’s border away. There was a slight crackle and then the outside world returned in full.
Wrath suddenly towered over me. “If you value our new alliance, do not ever use that containment spell on me again, witch. Trust goes both ways. My patience grows weary.”
“Fine. If you want my trust, stop helping Pride find a wife.”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t be surprised when I defend myself using any means necessary.”
He paced away, running a hand through his hair. I watched impassively as he strode back over to me. Determination flashed in his gold eyes. “Hand me my dagger.” I shot him an incredulous look. “I only need it for a moment. And no, I won’t stab you with it.”
Though he probably wanted to. Badly.
I unstrapped the serpent dagger from the holster at my hip, and handed it over.
Wrath dropped to one knee.
“Emilia Maria di Carlo, you have my word that I will not physically harm a witch, nor force her into a marriage with Pride.” He dragged the blade across his palm, and pressed his bleeding hand against his heart. “On honor of my crown and my blood, I vow that my current mission is to save souls, not take them.”
He stood and handed his dagger back to me, hilt first. Another show of trust. I replaced the blade and looked him over. His wound was already sealed. “Aren’t you going to ask me to accept your blood trade from earlier?”
“I would prefer if you accepted it, but I will not force you to. Are you satisfied by my vow?”
“For the time being.”
“Good enough.”
He brushed past me, stopping near the edge of the cave. Resisting the urge to shove him into the sea below, I silently followed, taking in the silver-backed waves, undulating like a mammoth ebony creature beneath the full moon as he stretched. Blood and bones. Of course. A full moon meant more trouble. And my hands were already full of around six foot two of it.
“Here.” I slapped the shirt I’d bought him against his chest. “I don’t care if you hate it, if it smells, or if you’re too princely for peasant clothes, but you will wear this while we’re walking through the city. The last thing we need is to draw any more attention to you.”
Wrath and I settled against the building adjacent to the monastery, watching lights snuff out one by one. Soon the brotherhood would be asleep in their bedchambers. “What possessed you to swear a blood vow to me?”
“I wanted to offer a twig of trust.”
“You mean an olive branch.”
“Same concept, witch.” He tipped his face up at the moon. “Also, I might have wanted more of those… things you brought. If you died then I’d have to hunt them down. It would have been inconvenient.”
“The cannoli?” I asked, feigning incredulity at his attempt at humor. “You saved me in part for some sweetened ricotta?” Thank the goddess he didn’t seem to grasp how popular they were, or how widely they could be found in the city. “Do you think the Umbra demon is watching us?”
Tucked snugly between the shadows, it was too dark to see his features clearly, but I pictured his look of resignation anyway. “Are you scared?”
A perfect nonanswer to my question. I knew he was referencing the Umbra demon, but the truth was Wrath scared me, too. Anyone who wasn’t a little afraid to enter a chamber with the demon last seen with their murdered loved one would be an idiot.
A couple streets over, voices rumbled like distant thunder. Laughter followed, bold and boisterous. Palermo was a city that worshipped the night as much as it basked in the glory of the day. Festivals, feasts—there always seemed to be some occasion worth celebrating, especially with food and drink. I hoped to stop the monster bent on destroying that before it struck again.
Several minutes of quiet later, the last golden light inside went dark.
“All right. It’s time,” Wrath said, straightening. “If you’d prefer to stay here, then stay. I don’t coddle.”
I ignored him and slipped into the shadows, letting him talk to himself. He seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice well enough. It felt rude to interrupt.
“I won’t comfort. Or tend to your wounds. Emotional or otherwise. I despise—”
When the door across the alley creaked open, his mouth snapped shut. I flashed him a scathing look as I pushed it wider in invitation. He stood there, scowling. I’d wager anything he hadn’t heard me move. I wondered how many people ever surprised him. Probably not many, given the way his annoyance seemed to build at the thought of being bested by a witch.
“Are you coming, or not, demon?”
TWENTY-THREE
Thankfully, there were no supernatural whispers waiting for me in the chamber where Vittoria died. No insistent summoning tug, or magical request from the Great Beyond. Only silence and the slight scrape of Wrath’s boots as he moved around in the dark. At his quiet but gruff request, I handed him my satchel of supplies, grateful for a few moments to collect myself while he searched inside of it for candles.
According to Wrath, we’d only have a few minutes for him to sense traces of any summoning magic. He warned me there might not be any hints since more than a month had passed. I hadn’t been back in this room since I first found my sister’s mutilated body. If I had a choice, I’d never set foot in this cursed monastery again. I knew Vittoria wasn’t here, but the ghost of that night haunted me all the same. I closed my eyes against the memory of her torn flesh. The utter stillness of death. And the blood.
I rubbed my hands over my arms, though the air was pleasantly warm. It was odd how unexpected life could be. A month ago, I never would’ve pictured returning with the very creature I’d first found licking my sister’s blood, yet here we were. Working together.
Suddenly, I was no longer lost in grief. With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten all about that morbid, blood-licking detail. I spun around, relishing the weight of the demon’s dagger as it bounced at my side. “Just to be clear; I permitted you
to leave the containment circle tonight for my benefit alone. It doesn’t mean I like you.”
“And here I thought binding me for all eternity meant we were good friends.”
“You haven’t explained why you were licking my sister’s blood.”
He finished digging through my bag and struck a match. Light flared up, gilding the edges of his face. Shadows darkened his gaze, but didn’t hide the shimmering gold of his irises. His attention slid to the dagger and lingered. He stared at it often enough during our walk here, that I couldn’t help but think he was plotting creative ways of getting it back.
I fought a chill as the familiar feeling of danger returned. Sometimes, especially since he agreed to help me, it was easy to forget he was one of the Wicked. “You didn’t ask me to.”
“I most certainly did.”
“What you said was ‘You were standing over her body, licking her blood from your fingers, you revolting beast.’” Obviously, it made a lasting impression. He lit the candles and handed me one. I avoided his fingers and he replied in kind. “Don’t touch anything, witch. We don’t want to disturb any lingering scent.”
“Do I even want to know what you mean by ‘lingering scent,’ or is that some Hell creature fact best left to the imagination?”
“Tempting though it may be, it’s best not to imagine me at all.”
I rolled my eyes. If he didn’t want to elaborate, that was perfectly fine. I didn’t give a rat’s tail about his precious demon senses, but I did care about Vittoria.
“Fine. Why were you licking her blood?”
He held up his candle and pivoted in place, scanning the chamber. “I was testing it.”
I drew in a deep breath and prayed to the goddess of strength and reasoning to keep me from butchering him right here and now.
Kingdom of the Wicked Page 15