Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(26)

He was quiet a minute, seeming to consider what information to share. “I want to stop the murderer before he strikes again. Aligning myself with you isn’t ideal, but it’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I’m playing it to my advantage. Not only are you a witch, like each victim before your sister, you’re also connected to the most recent victim. At some point, I believe you may prove valuable in drawing out the killer; therefore, I’d like to sense when you’re in danger so I can remove the threat.”

I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand to stall me.

“I will not give you any more details unless you agree to the blood bond.”

Wrath wasn’t lying—he wouldn’t tell me anything else unless I agreed. I might be willingly choosing his offer, but it didn’t really seem like I had any other options. I thought about my sister—I knew exactly what she would do. I inhaled deeply. “You’ll tell me more about my sister’s involvement with your brother?”

“I’ll exchange all necessary information.”

Tricky demon. All “necessary” information didn’t equal all information. I stared at him, trying to work out the uneasy feeling growing inside me. He claimed the blood bond was part of the protection spell I used, but I wasn’t sure that was all. I thought about him having a link to me. He said he could tell when I was in danger, but I didn’t like the idea of him knowing where I was. Demons might have rules and etiquette, but I knew nothing of them.

Maybe he considered dragging someone to Hell to reign there for eternity a high honor.

“Answer one more question for me,” I said. “Aside from not being able to lie, what else are demons forbidden from doing?”

He waited a beat before responding.

“We also cannot enter a human home without an invitation. We’re permitted to use our powers, but not to cause direct physical harm. And, once summoned, we are forced to remain in this realm until our invitation is withdrawn.”

“If I withdrew your invitation now, would you have to leave right away?”

“Yes. Do we have a bargain?” He looked relaxed, casual. But his eyes were focused, sharp. He very much wanted me to agree to his offer. I thought about the stories Nonna told us as children, about how the Wicked could never be trusted. Wrath had been specifically named.

I wanted very much to be more like my twin. But I couldn’t help being me.

“No, Prince Wrath. I do not accept your blood trade.”





Thirteen

A witch must never enter into a blood trade with a prince of Hell. By doing so, it allows the one conjured to have a direct link to the witch. It is unclear how long the bond lasts or if it can be broken. Never forget: forging a bond made from love is as dangerous as those made through hate.

—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

Nonna glanced at the dagger strapped to my hip, then pounded chicken like she was envisioning someone’s skull instead. I’d commandeered the weapon again before I’d left the cave, and Wrath had looked very much like Nonna now. If she was that put off by the demon prince’s blade, I couldn’t imagine how upset she’d be if she knew about the magical tattoo we shared.

I’d chosen a blouse with long fluttering sleeves to hide it. Before I went to bed, I inspected the two crescent moons within the circle of stars. The ink shimmered like moonlight. Despite the fact it bound me to Wrath, I didn’t mind it all that much. It was delicate and pretty.

Thwack. Thwack. Nonna beat the poor chicken with singular focus. At least today’s house special would be mouthwateringly tender for our customers. It was good some people still had an appetite. I’d certainly lost mine.

I ignored the way my stomach churned each time I thought about the events of last night. If Nonna knew I’d not only summoned one of the Malvagi, but almost willingly entered into a blood trade with one . . . I closed my eyes and fought the urge to lay down.

Nonna might stop pounding the chicken and walk herself off the nearest cliff instead.

My focus slid to the little clock above the stove. I wanted to finish dinner service and get back to the cave where Wrath was trapped before dark. Tonight I’d demand answers. Aside from his royal standing in Hell, I didn’t know anything about him. For all I knew he was the devil and had his own evil agenda.

Regardless of all the unknowns surrounding Wrath, I was certain of at least two facts. The first being he wanted to locate my sister’s murderer and probably kill whoever it was. And the second was his desire to form a blood bond with me. I had no intention of going through with the creepy bond, but it gave me excellent leverage to use when I interrogated him. His brother seemed to be interested in bargaining with witches, and I wanted to know why.

If his demon brethren weren’t responsible for murdering my twin, that made it all the more likely strega hunters were responsible. Having Wrath around to guard me while some witch-hating zealot was ripping out hearts might be wise. I’d let the demon prince fight him and run for safety. And if they destroyed each other in the process? Good riddance.

I sliced mushrooms for the sauce, adding it to the pan of garlic and shallots already simmering in butter. My work was mechanical today, the kitchen held little magic like it once did. It didn’t help that my focus kept straying to the clock. I was worried about leaving a demon by himself all afternoon. Whether he was a prince of Hell or something worse, he was still undeniably wicked.