“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 followed 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.

The whispers I’d been hearing turned to full-on chatter. There were so many voices, so many conversations, I could hardly hear my own thoughts.

“It’s here.”

“She’s arrived.”

“Open the binding.”

“Set her free.”

I covered my ears, and searched for any possible escape or means to break the spell. I wanted the noise to stop. Now. The glamour abruptly dropped away, as if attuned to my desires. My gaze swept around the true version of the room. The walls were covered in Latin. Lines and lines of it—some in larger script, some smaller—filled every inch of the walls from floor to ceiling. Someone had been very busy. I’d never seen magic used like that before.

The letters softly glowed and pulsated like they were part of a living, breathing entity. I wanted to sink to my knees; a spell that powerful wouldn’t be easily broken. But I wouldn’t give up just yet. I searched for signs of an ambush. I was alone, except for a book.

My heartbeat slowed. This had to be the “it” Vittoria described in her diary.

When I set my attention on the book, the voices started again, softer, more enticing. I tentatively dropped my hands from my ears. I could hardly breathe. This was the secret my sister died to keep. I knew it deep down in my bones.

A single shaft of light illuminated the old, leather-bound tome lying closed on a pedestal carved from a solid chunk of obsidian. I’d never seen a gemstone that large before, and cautiously moved forward until I stood over the mysterious book. The voices quieted.

A triple moon symbol molded from pewter adorned the cover, but there was no title to indicate what it contained. It was definitely magical, given how much power emanated from its pages. Soft lavender light surrounded it. It reminded me of the luccicare I saw around humans, and was the same shade of purple as my tattoo. I didn’t know what it meant, but I had a very good idea of what it was—the first book of spells. Impossibly, Vittoria had found La Prima’s grimoire.

It was so plain, so simple. And yet, it had cost my sister so much.

I suddenly wanted to burn it.

It was no larger than any other old book, but the power was unlike anything I’d ever felt. The cover was worn in places where it looked like it had been opened and closed a million times.

Like the night I found my sister’s body, there was a silent, insistent tug in my center. This time, it begged me to open the book, to glimpse the spells I felt spilling from it. I slowly reached over, and flipped it open to a place that had been marked with a ribbon.

Familiar black paper with gold roots edged around the sides greeted me. I scanned the page—it was a summoning for the morning star. I shut the book and stepped away.

Someone had summoned the devil. Or wanted to.

I took a few steady breaths, mind racing. This was the mysterious grimoire my sister had torn pages from. Somehow her magic led her to the first book of spells, and then she’d removed spells to summon demons. I knew for a fact she hadn’t snuck this text into our tiny room, I would have felt it the moment it entered our home and so would Nonna, which meant Vittoria must have stashed it away here. But why would she think it’d be safe within the brotherhood’s walls . . . there was a connection, I just had to think.