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I took one look at the determination in her eyes and decided she might.

“I…” I inhaled deeply. I didn’t trust Wrath with this secret, and Carolina couldn’t help, but maybe Claudia could. I pulled my sister’s diary from my satchel. “There’s a spell on this I can’t break. Your aunt said the magic wasn’t from this realm. It’s possibly demonic in origin.”

Claudia’s eyes widened as she brushed her fingers over the cover. “It’s… ancient.”

“Do you think you could find out what sort of magic was used?”

She nodded vigorously. “I can certainly try.”

“It’s dangerous,” I warned. “You can’t tell anyone you have it, or show it to anyone.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

I let the diary go. As I turned to leave, a shadow loomed above my friend and hissed, “He’s here.”

“What?” I half-screamed and stumbled back. It was the same disembodied voice I’d heard the night my sister had been killed. I’d never forget the sound. “Who is?”

“Who is what?” Claudia glanced around and then reached over to steady me. “Are you all right, Emilia? You look as if you’ve seen the devil.”

“I—”

“Did you hear that?” I dragged a hand through my hair and tugged at the roots. Nothing was there. No menacing shadow or dire warnings from beyond. Maybe I needed the church after all. I could certainly use all the prayers I could get. “It’s nothing. I thought you said something else.”

Claudia seemed unconvinced, but after a strained moment hugged me good-bye with a promise to learn everything she could about the mysterious spell.

I heard Nonna’s voice in my head as I hurried out of the city, constantly tossing looks over my shoulder to see if anything followed. She’d been right—nothing was fine.

And I was starting to think it might never be again.

FOURTEEN

“Put this on. No one should be subjected to that all night, demon.”

Wrath snatched the shirt a second before it hit his face and actually cringed. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. Wrinkled tawny suede, elbows worn thin, and crisscrossing drawstrings at the chest. He stared like I’d dragged in a decaying carcass and told him to skin it and sew it into a jacket.

He set his jaw. “No.”

“No?” I tilted my head like I hadn’t heard him correctly.

“It looks like you balled it up and left it in the bottom of a drawer for months, and it smells like you wiped out pig innards with it.” He tossed it back at me. “Fetch me something more suitable, or deal with me as is.”

“Excuse me?” I marched up to the line of bones and crossed them without hesitation. I stood toe-to-toe with him, fuming. A wild gleam in my eyes dared him to tell me no again. “Put. The. Shirt. On. Now.”

“Does the sight of my bare skin get under yours? Did you have sinful thoughts about me last night?” He gave me a lazy grin. “That’s usually my brother’s specialty, but fear not, we’ve all got bedroom talents.”

“Pig.”

“Care to roll around the dirt with me?”

Anger poured off me. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” I swore the temperature dropped to match the iciness of his tone. “You call us wicked, but you witches are vengeful creatures without soul or conscience.” He nodded to his dagger I’d strapped to my hip. It looked ridiculously out of place against my dark flowing skirt and matching blouse with fluttering sleeves. But I didn’t care. He wasn’t getting it back. “Stab me if you must, but I’m not putting that monstrosity on.”

“You can’t possibly be serious. It’s a shirt.” I stared up at him and I couldn’t begin to understand the new look in his eyes. “Need I remind you that you aren’t in any position to make demands or deny me?”

His annoyance joined mine in unholy matrimony.

“Here’s a little lesson since you seem to be woefully uneducated, witch. Summoning does not equal owning. Containment isn’t forever.”