For spells of courage, anoint a red candle with the following items during a waxing moon and burn until flame extinguishes: one part cayenne pepper, one part clove, twice-blessed oil, and a heaping tablespoon of crushed charcoal.
—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire
The door swung open, and I traveled down a creaking set of stairs before entering a subterranean lair. Based on the grimy dead-end entrance, I thought the inside of Greed’s den of sin would be dark and derelict. Which was only partly the case. The overcrowded room was indeed dark—brick walls, a gleaming ebony bar that spanned the length of the room, and several velvet-topped tables in deep burgundy dotted the tiled floor.
Each table featured different card games. One colorful round of scopa drew the most attention. Men and women gathered, their gazes fixed on what they hoped was their winning hand. I had a feeling the only true winner was the demon prince in residence.
The gambling den oozed with the promise of riches. Desire for wealth and power was so potent, it almost took physical form. I pictured it reaching for my throat, squeezing until I drew breath in greedy drabs. My attention darted from one sinful tableau to the next.
Greed in its many forms made an appearance. There was greed for power, wealth, attention—excess was the poison of choice here, and patrons couldn’t seem to get their fill. I wondered if they knew what time it was, that the sun had just risen and beckoned to them to step outside, to live. Some were haggard, tired, as if they’d been up for days, addicted to whatever their chosen form of greed was. There was also an edge of violence lurking in the atmosphere, like a simple want or desire could twist into something deadly at any moment. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone knifing their competition, and taking what they wanted by force.
Sharp gazes cut around the room and I followed the stares. In one corner a man held court with dozens of expensive liquor bottles, doling out drinks to those who luxuriated in his presence. On the opposite end of the room, men and women slowly removed layers of clothing, swaying their near-naked bodies in hopes of capturing the greedy gazes of those content with watching. Attention was their vice, and, even though it felt wrong to participate in something that was surely enhancing Greed’s power, I couldn’t stop from indulging in their sultry show.
I shook myself from the trance, and looked for the demon I suspected was around.
A door along the far wall was flanked by scowling guards in fine clothes. I’d wager anything I’d find Greed there. If I could make it through the crowded room. There were so many patrons that I had to tread carefully. I tried weaving around groups of people standing behind card players, but barely squeezed through immoveable bodies. Servers carried silver trays overflowing with food and drink, making the progression more difficult than it already was. I managed to shoot between a line of people topping off prosecco glasses before a fight broke out behind me.
Cheers and jeers erupted at the nearest table. I stood on tiptoes and peered past a crowd of people who’d moved in to see what had drawn such a reaction. The door was still impossibly far.
I debated hopping up onto the tables, and running across them when I heard her name—it was a blade to my heart.
“Vittoria!”
I spun slowly, searching for whoever’d called out for my sister. My attention landed on a man around my father’s age, half sitting in his chair, half falling to the floor. Gambling chips and empty glasses were stacked in haphazard piles around him. He lifted his gaze, and I drew in a sharp breath. Domenico Nucci Senior.
“Signore Nucci. Do you—”
“Vittoria, be a good girl and see about my drink, will you?” His focus slid to the next card someone slapped down. “Maybe get some of those fried calamari with extra arrabbiata to dip them in, too. It’s gonna be another long game. These cheaters are making me feel wolfish.”
He smiled like we were sharing some big secret.
“I’m not—I’m Emilia, my sister is . . .” Signore Nucci was obviously intoxicated and probably thought he was at Sea & Vine, ordering dinner. The spicy marinara and fried octopus were one of our most popular dishes to share. It also explained his confusion over calling me Vittoria—she used to help our father and uncle in the dining room sometimes. “I’ll make sure someone brings your food soon.”
I turned and smacked into a hard chest. One of the nicely dressed men who’d been guarding the door glared down at me. “The boss would like a word with you. Come this way.”
Whatever pain I’d felt about being mistaken for my sister was immediately replaced with fear. I followed the muscular man as he cleared a path to the door. Power seeped from whatever lay beyond it, and I knew it meant a prince of Hell was in residence. I steeled my buzzing nerves.
The man wasted little time with entertaining my trepidation, and shoved the door open. He barreled into the room without a second glance, and, with little choice, I followed.
“She’s here, signore.”
I don’t know what I expected to find—maybe a fire-breathing dragon guarding a mountain of gold and jewels, or a really large poisonous frog lashing out with a whiplike tongue covered in spikes—but a lavish room fitted with layered Persian rugs, an oversized desk, plush leather chairs, and a dazzling crystal chandelier wasn’t it. Everything was elegant and warm. So very at odds with the shivers running down my back.
The Prince of Greed sat behind the mammoth desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, a bored look on his finely carved face. He was, in a word, bronzed. From his dark auburn hair to the deep russet of his eyes, he reminded me of copper coins melted and recast in a humanoid form. If he had a dagger like Envy and Wrath, he’d hidden it well. Which made me trust him even less.
“I wasn’t anticipating this meeting, but I am pleased nonetheless.” He smiled. There was something off about it. Something not quite natural. “Please, sit.”
He motioned to one of the chairs in front of him, but I lingered near the door. Either his powers were greatly diminished despite the greed pouring from his gambling den, or he’d tamped them down for this meeting. A demon game—feigning weakness to lure in prey, though, in this room he didn’t really seem to hide who he was or where he was from.
Two demon guards stood behind him with their arms crossed, growling deep in their throats. One had pale green reptile skin and matching eyes. And the other was covered in short fur—similar to a deer, and had liquid ebony eyes. Two antlers curled up and away from the top of the fur-covered demon’s head. It was disconcerting, seeing something that almost looked human with the skin and eyes of an animal. I tried to convince myself to cross the room, but couldn’t force my body to carry me anywhere near those demons. “I . . .”
Greed’s attention slowly shifted from me to what had caught my eye. He snapped his fingers and the room cleared. When he looked at me again, there was a hunger in his gaze—one that spoke of possession. He didn’t want to seduce me, he wanted to own me. I wouldn’t be a trophy to him like Envy, I’d be a tool for power.
“Emilia. Please,” he nodded to the unoccupied chair, “no one will harm you while you’re here. You have my word.”
Said the wolf to the little hen. His use of my name unnerved me, but I managed my best impression of a confident stride and sat down. “Did my sister tell you my name?”
“No. You did. Pardon my rudeness, but I have informants stationed throughout the club. They heard your exchange with one of my regular customers.” His smile was almost convincing this time. I wondered if he sensed my fear and adjusted his responses accordingly. That thought brought on a new rush of nerves I didn’t need. Being alone with Greed was a terribly rash idea, but I really couldn’t think of a better way to get information from him. “Vittoria didn’t mention you at all, actually. This is quite a surprise.”
He poured two glasses of water from a pitcher I hadn’t noticed and slid one to me. Crowned frogs were etched onto the glasses. I accepted the water, but didn’t drink. “Why a frog?”
“They’re greedy creatures. Content with neither land nor water, they desire both.”
Made sense. In a demon logic sort of way. “Did Vittoria summon you?”
“You’re full of questions.” He studied me closely. “It’s strange . . . how identical you are.”
His tone didn’t hold any clues to his emotions. It was a statement of fact. Nothing more. He didn’t seem to mind one way or the other that my sister was dead.
“I know my sister came here before she was murdered. I want to know why. What did she want from you?”
“Hmmm. Right for the jugular. A bold move, little mouse.” He leaned back, his gaze sharp, calculating. I did my best not to squirm under his scrutiny. “It seems I have valuable information that you’d like. And you, Signorina di Carlo, also have something of great value to me. I will answer your questions to the best of my ability, only in exchange for your amulet.”
My hand automatically moved to my cornicello. “Why do you want it?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“A folk charm to ward off the evil eye.” Unlike Malocchio charms humans wore, it would also bring the world into eternal twilight if I brought it together with my sister’s amulet, according to Nonna. I decided to keep that to myself, in case he started drooling on his finely trimmed suit.
“Mmh.” Greed removed a velvet pouch from the desk drawer, and dropped a necklace into his palm—a gold chain with a ruby the size of a quail egg that twinkled in the light. A strange essence came off it, almost like a high-keening wail in the distance, setting my teeth on edge.
I wanted him to put it back where he’d found it. Immediately. “What is that?”
“It’s called the Eye of Darkness, and it grants whoever wears it true protection from creatures of malevolent intent. Give me your amulet, and it’s yours.”
A gift like that didn’t come without a price. “What else do you want?”
“For you to join yourself to House Greed.”
I stared at Greed and I swore my skin physically tried to crawl away from my body in protest as he gazed back. He was classically handsome, but there was something off about him. His eyes were void of human emotion. He looked alien and wrong. I couldn’t imagine my sister falling in love or even lust with him. Which meant her reason for coming here was not a result of seduction. He had information she wanted. And I wanted to know what it was.
“Why do you want me to align myself with you?”
“Because I believe you’ll be very useful to me in the future. If you become queen, you’ll owe me a favor. A powerful one, too, if this charm ends up saving your life.”
Greed didn’t strike me as a betting kind of creature, which made me even more hesitant to accept this little present. I had no plans of becoming Queen of the Wicked, and would be damned if I gave him a reason to help put me on that dark throne.
“Did you offer the Eye of Darkness to my sister?”
“Accept my bargain and find out.”
“If you won’t answer simple questions, I’m afraid we’re through.” I stood, ready to be as far away from this prince and place as possible, when his chair scraped across the floor.
“Wait.” He sat back down and put the ruby necklace in its pouch again. Some of the unease in my shoulders loosened. “In a show of good faith, I will answer one of your questions.”
“In exchange for . . .”
“Nothing. You have my word. Remember, the offer is for one question, anything else will cost you.”
I reclaimed my seat, calculating my next move. There were so many questions I needed answers to, but none of them would be worth the cost of handing over my cornicello. I thought carefully about the list I’d written out last night, and focused on one detail that bothered me the most. It meant something. I wanted to know what. I chose my words with exacting precision.
“Tell me about the Horn of Hades.”
If he was surprised by my choice, it didn’t show. “It’s a key that locks the gates of Hell.”
“I heard it was part of a curse. That if a witch wears it she’ll have power over the devil.”
“Witch legends are fascinating in their falsehoods. The Horn of Hades was a gift. Your sister knew the true story.”
I desperately wanted to ask him what it was, but there was something more important I needed to know. “How do you break a demon spell that was cast on an object?”
Greed’s answering smile was toxic. “I told you about the Horn of Hades. The rest will cost you. I don’t believe in giving without gain.”
Now my smile turned sharp. “Per your rules, that was my first actual question.”
He rolled his shoulders back, his nostrils flaring a bit. I was half convinced he was about to spring across the desk and wrap his hands around my neck. A long moment passed before he spoke.
“Clever girl.” He reached for his glass and drank deeply, his knuckles turning white while he probably thought over my phrasing. “Sacrifice a bit of yourself.”
“That’s not an honest answer.”
“Oh, but it is.”
Greed took another sip of water. “Would you like to ask another question?”
I would like to ask another dozen questions, but dragging useful information from a prince of Hell was harder than I thought. I pressed my lips together.
He kicked his boots up onto the desk, and steepled his fingers again. “Allow me to be blunt, Signorina di Carlo. Your sister gave me her amulet, knowing the importance of it. I need both hers and yours to work a spell. Give me your amulet, and I vow to protect your world.”
Sure he would. Right after he pillaged and destroyed it. Suspicion coiled around me. There was absolutely no way my sister had willingly given him her cornicello. If he did have it, then he’d taken it. I knew for a fact Vittoria had been wearing it the day she died. I swallowed hard. It was looking more and more possible that I was sitting across from my twin’s murderer. I mentally crossed witch hunters off my list of suspects. Thus far, all of my clues kept pointing to demons.
I wondered if Greed told my sister a similar story and she refused him. I was more than a little afraid of what he might do if I also tried walking away. He could probably sense fear, so I shoved it as far down inside me as I could, and bluffed. “If Vittoria gave you her amulet, show it to me.”
“Ah.” He blew out a long breath. “That isn’t possible.”
“Not possible, or you won’t do it?”
“Both. A Viperidae was summoned to this realm. Its nest is below the cathedral and, well, they’re very protective about their space. The amulet will stay there until it decides to give it up.”
I didn’t bother asking what a Viperidae was, or who’d summoned it. I doubted he’d tell me anything else after I’d tricked information from him.
“And you put the amulet there . . .” I didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t offer one. It was highly unlikely that he would put something he wanted so badly in a place he couldn’t gain access to it. But I had a feeling my sister would. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Vittoria would never willingly give anyone—let alone one of the Malvagi—her amulet.
Greed’s story didn’t add up. I wanted to hope against all odds he was being semi-truthful, but it was a gamble I couldn’t risk taking. He did give me another short-term goal to focus on—I’d get my sister’s cornicello back, and ask Nonna why a demon would be so interested in them.
“Well?” he asked. “Do we have a deal, Signorina di Carlo?”
“Grazie,” I said, standing, “but my answer is still no.”
