Vittoria had done more than dabble in the dark arts. I couldn’t open the diary using force, so I tried a spell of un-making, burned herbs that helped with clarity, lit candles and prayed to every goddess I could think of, but the stubborn diary gave none of its secrets away.
I tossed the book on the floor and cursed. Vittoria had used a spell I’d never encountered. Which meant she’d probably figured out I’d snooped in her diary a few weeks ago. She really didn’t want me to know her secret. And that made me even more determined to find out why.
I paced around our little room, watching the sun slowly rise. I needed a plan. Now. Aside from a forbidden truth spell here and there, I knew little of dark magic and how it actually worked. Nonna said the dark arts demanded payment since they took from something instead of using what already was. I’d happily sacrifice whatever I needed to in order to get what I wanted. I had one large clue and no way to access it. Except . . . I smiled as an idea struck. I couldn’t break the spell, but I knew someone who might be able to: Carolina Grimaldi.
Carolina was Claudia’s aunt and had taken Claudia in when her parents left for America a year or two apart. She was well versed in the dark arts, and was slowly teaching Claudia everything she knew. I didn’t want to involve my friend, so I decided to go directly to the source of her knowledge. Carolina had a stall in the busy marketplace and, if I hurried, I might catch her before she opened her booth.
I grabbed a satchel and stuffed the grimoire sheets and diary inside, then ran for the door.
Nonna stepped into my path, frowning. “Is the devil chasing you?”
I hoped not, but that was up for debate. “Not that I know of.”
“Good. Then you can sit a minute and tell me where you’re running off to at this hour.”
“I—” I almost confessed everything, but thought about my sister. Vittoria kept her secrets close, and was willing to die with them. There had to be a good reason why. “I wanted to stop by the marketplace for some spices before we start prepping for dinner service. I have an idea for a new sauce.”
Nonna stared at me hard, trying to see through my lies. Her expression was a cross between disappointment and suspicion. I hadn’t shown much interest in food or creativity since Vittoria’s death. Just when I convinced myself she’d send me back upstairs with a list of charmwork, she stepped aside. “Don’t be late. There’s much to do.”
“Signora Grimaldi!” I hiked up my skirts and charged through the streets. Luck was finally on my side. I caught Carolina right before she crossed the road into the marketplace.
Carolina shielded her face from the rising sun, and stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley when she spotted me. “Emilia. I’m sorry for—”
“I don’t have much time, signora. I need your help with something . . . delicate.” I pulled the diary out and glanced around, ensuring we were alone. “There’s some enchantment on here I’ve never seen. I was hoping you might tell me what it is and how to break it.”
She took a small step away, staring at the diary like it was an abomination. “Nothing of this realm will do what you seek. Put it back where you found it, child. Its very presence calls them.”
“Them?”
“The Wicked. This magic stinks of their world—it wants to be found.”
I stared at Carolina, wondering if Nonna had somehow figured out my plan and had gotten to the dark witch first. “This is my sister’s diary, not some demon book.”
Carolina nodded to my satchel. “Show me what you’ve got in there.” I did another subtle sweep of our surroundings before pulling out the grimoire sheets. I handed them to her, watching her face swiftly drain of color. “This is a summoning spell.”
“I—I don’t understand. Why would my sister need a summoning spell?”
“Maybe she was trying to control a demon.”
I studied the black sheets. “That’s impossible. All demons are trapped in Hell. Just like they’ve been for nearly a hundred years.”
Carolina snorted. “Is that what your nonna’s been telling you? Go home and try summoning one yourself, see what happens. Unless you have an object that belongs to a prince of Hell, these spells should only call forth a lower-level demon. They’re easy to control and often trade information for little favors or trinkets. And I promise you, they aren’t all trapped in the underworld. Almost every witch—whether they pray to the goddesses of light or dark magic—knows that.”
I stared at the dark witch, heart thudding. “Are you suggesting my sister was summoning demons and asking them for favors before she died?”
“There’s no way to know for sure what she was doing, but I guarantee those spells are strictly for summoning. I doubt a demon aided her without some sort of bargain. They don’t believe in doing charitable work. There’s always some gain in it for them.” She looked me over, her expression softening. “Forget what I said, child. Don’t dabble in the demon realm. Whatever your sister was doing, I promise you’ll want no part in it.”
She sounded just like Nonna.
I thanked her and said good-bye, then quickly made my way to Sea & Vine. Instead of answers, I had more questions. If Carolina was right about the spell on Vittoria’s diary not being of this realm, then opening it was impossible. Unless . . . An idea slowly formed, one that made my pulse race. If my sister had summoned a demon, maybe she’d had it use its brand of magic to seal her diary. I couldn’t imagine any other reason my twin would summon a demon aside from that.
Despite the stories Nonna told us growing up, Vittoria knew I didn’t really believe in the demon princes. I wasn’t as skeptical about lesser demons, but I thought they were trapped in their realm with no means of escape. It would have been the perfect way for her to ensure I’d never unlock the secret she was so desperate to keep. And Vittoria was almost right, except for one detail.
She never could have predicted the way her death would change me. There was nothing in this world or the next that would keep me from solving her murder. And I would solve it.
I mulled over different theories during dinner service, barely concentrating at Sea & Vine. I kept trying to think like my twin. Some thoughts were wildly outlandish, others more plausible. But one idea stuck out from the others. This was the one I carefully considered as the day dragged on.
Maybe because it seemed so impossible. Or maybe because Vittoria didn’t believe in the word. Whatever the reason, the idea stayed with me as I chopped vegetables, and cleaned my knives.
I thought about it on the walk home.
Then while I changed into my nightgown, and brushed out my hair.
It haunted me and I welcomed it.
Later, once I was tucked into my bed, I pulled out the grimoire sheets again. I scanned the unfamiliar script and grinned. It was my first true smile in weeks, and it was as dark and vicious as my thoughts had been lately.
Vittoria had at least tried to summon a demon. The longer I sat with the thought, the more I accepted its truth. Tomorrow night, I’d try and summon one myself. Then, if it worked, I’d make a bargain of my own. In exchange for a small favor, I’d ask it to break the spell on her diary. I had nothing to lose—the summoning would either be successful, or it wouldn’t. I’d never know what happened to my sister if I didn’t set aside my doubts and try. With that, my decision was made.
All I needed now were some bones.
The next day at the restaurant passed by tortuously, but I managed to make good use of my time in the kitchen. I gathered everything the grimoire page listed, and no one suspected a thing. Except maybe Nonna. My grandmother stared at me across the island, silently chanting, as if she could read my mind and conjure a spell to pluck out the next thought before it took root.
Little did she know I’d been cultivating this idea since last night. I’d taken the bud of a plan and tended to it, urging it to blossom. Now it was full grown. I knew what I had to do.
I just needed the supplies and opportunity.
Nonna told us to hide from the Malvagi, to say our charms and bless our amulets with silvery shafts of moonlight and holy water, to never speak of the Wicked when the moon was full, and to do all the things a good witch did. Otherwise they’d steal our souls.
In the end, the monster we feared didn’t come from Hell. He came from privilege.
That man standing over my twin—with his fine clothes and expensive knife—deserved punishment like anyone else. He couldn’t just take what he wanted without facing the consequences. I was almost certain that the people I’d shown it to must have recognized his blade, but refused to speak out against him, fearing the repercussions. He might be powerful and wealthy, but justice would find him.
I’d make certain of it.
I still wasn’t sure if he acted alone, or if he was a member of the mysterious strega hunters, and it didn’t matter. He was the only one there that night. I would hunt him down first and find out more information later. If there were more people like him, I’d deal with it then.
I also had a plan to keep my family safe while tracking down Vittoria’s killer. Instead of one simple bargain, I’d make two. First, I’d have the demon I summoned break the enchantment on Vittoria’s diary, and then I’d have it locate the mysterious dark-haired man. Thankfully, having a possession like the snake knife would allow for this.
A demon I could control was the answer to a prayer.
It seemed I’d been wrong earlier; the goddess of death and fury hadn’t ignored my pleas. She’d simply been biding her time, waiting for me to turn my despair into something she could use. A twig was just a bit of broken wood until it had been sharpened into a spear. Grief carved me in half. And fury honed the pieces into a weapon.
Now it was time to unleash it.
