Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(13)

The chamber spun until I nearly collapsed. My twin. My best friend. Gone. We’d never drink or laugh or plan our future. She’d never mock Nonna’s superstitions or jump out from the shadows again. We’d never fight or make up. She’d never push me to be bolder, or tell me to grab my dreams by the throat. I didn’t know who to be without her. How to go on.

“No.” I shook my head, refusing to accept it. There was magic and trickery at play. Vittoria couldn’t be dead. She was young and vibrant and so full of life. Vittoria danced the hardest at festivals, praised the moon and the goddess of night and stars the loudest, and always made everyone feel like her very best friend. I didn’t know who this still, silent person was.

Through my tears I pulled the shroud completely off. The dress she wore was white, like an offering. It was finely made silk accented by lace. I’d never seen it. We weren’t poor, but we certainly couldn’t purchase something like that. Not unless she’d been saving for the last few summers.

The delicate bodice, destroyed, her cornicello missing, her—

I screamed. Her heart had been ripped from her chest. The hole jagged and angry. It was a gaping black and crimson chasm in her body, so unnatural I knew if I lived a thousand years, I’d never erase the sight of it from my memory. I stared at the blood, finally understanding the source of the incessant dripping. It pooled under her body and splattered down the altar.

There was so much blood. It looked—I fell to my knees, heaving up everything in my stomach. I retched again and again until there was nothing left.

I closed my eyes and the image there was even more terrible.

I dragged in breath after breath, but it didn’t help the dizziness. Now that I’d seen the blood, all I could smell was the metallic scent of death. It was everywhere, permeating everything. I went hot and cold in flashes.

I slipped forward and splayed across the stone. I tried pushing myself up and fell again. I was covered in my twin’s blood. I curled onto my side and trembled. This was a nightmare. I’d wake soon. I’d wake soon, I had to. Nightmares didn’t last forever. I just had to make it through the night.

Then everything would be okay.

I’m not sure how long I stayed there, shaking and sobbing on the floor, but at least an hour or two had passed. Maybe more. I needed to get help.

Not that anyone could save Vittoria now.

With weak arms, I finally pushed myself back up and stared at my sister, unable to reconcile the truth before me.

Murdered.

The word clanged through me like a death knell. Fear cleaved through my despair. My sister had been murdered. I needed to get help. I needed to find safety. I needed to—I dragged the stranger’s blade across my palm and held my bleeding hand over my sister’s body.

“I swear on my life, I will make whoever did this pay, Vittoria.”

I looked at her one last time, then ran like the devil was coming for my cursed soul next.





Six

Revelers jostled into me, splashing cups of wine down their tunics and dresses, laughing and trying to swing me into a dance. To indulge in their merriment. To celebrate the victory of life over death their blessed saint brought them all those years ago.

In a daze, I walked past our darkened restaurant, long since closed for the night, and found my way into our neighborhood. The hem of my skirts were soaked from goddess knew what. The material clung to my ankles and itched like mad. I kept moving, ignoring any discomfort. I had no right to feel anything when my sister would never feel again.

“Little witch all alone.”

It was no louder than a hiss, but the voice sent a violent shudder down my spine. I spun on my heel, and stared into an empty street. “Who’s there?”

“Memories, like hearts, can be stolen.”

The voice was behind me now. I jerked around, heart racing, and saw . . . nothing.

“This isn’t real,” I whispered. My mind was just taunting me with horrific things after finding my sister’s mutilated body. It seemed my invisible ghost demon had found a voice—a thought so ridiculous I couldn’t even entertain it as truth. “Go away.”

“He wishes to remember, but only forgets. He’s coming here soon.”

“Who is? The man who did this to Vittoria?”

I pivoted, skirts twisting around me. Not a single living thing was in the street. In fact, it seemed eerily still—like someone had snuffed out all life. No lights were on inside homes. No movement or noise. I couldn’t hear the bustle and excitement of the festival, either.

Thick unnatural fog crept along the ground and curled around my feet, bringing with it the scent of sulfur and ash. Nonna would claim it was a sign demons were near. I wondered if some murdering human was hiding in the shadows, waiting with a knife.

“Who’s coming?” I demanded, feeling more and more like I was trapped in some terrible nightmare. I closed my eyes and forced myself to snap into reality. I couldn’t fall apart now. “When I open my eyes again, everything will be normal.”

And it was. There was no sulfuric fog, sounds of families sitting down together floated through open windows, and jeers of drunken festivalgoers echoed all around.

I rubbed my arms and hurried toward my house. Ghostly demons. Disembodied voices. Devilish fog. I knew exactly what was going on—I was suffering from hysterics. And now was not the time. Vittoria’s body needed to come home for death rites. I could hide my own despair and delusions away long enough to do that much for her.