Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(80)

Fear made monsters of men.

Antonio broke away from the group, his expression filled with suppressed horror the closer he got to where we sat huddled together. He scanned Claudia’s messy hair, torn dress, and the blood splotches. “Was she attacked? What happened?”

I couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that she’d been playing with mystical forces in the holy corridors of the monastery, possibly used the bones of the dead in a scrying ritual for reasons I hadn’t yet uncovered, and had paid a steep price. “I—I’m not sure.”

It was close enough to the truth, at least.

Claudia made a high keening sound. Antonio knelt beside her. She lurched forward and grabbed the front of his nightshirt. “I shouldn’t have looked. But she told me to. We needed to know. For Valentina. Rats scurry in and out, and there are many in our midst. They helped it. Strange little vermin, dropping secrets like excrement. Now it won’t leave. He started it—his hatred and evil invited it in. She told me we needed to be sure. He is the chosen. He is death. He shouldn’t be able to leave—those are the rules. But rules are made for breaking. Like bones. He loves to break bones. I think it’s the marrow he’s after.”

“Who? Who told you to look?” I asked. Antonio raised his brows and looked me over. Clearly he thought I might be suffering from the same affliction if I entertained anything Claudia said as truth. I didn’t care what he thought. I had a growing suspicion I already knew who she meant based on the mention of Valentina, but wanted more proof. “Was it your aunt Carolina?”

“She spun stories like sugar, and they were airy and sweet until they burned, and now we’ll all burn because he’s here and mad, and the gates . . . the gates . . . she said to protect the gates. But he’s not chained to them anymore, is he? The poison was sweet, I still taste it. Lingering. Stick, stick, sticking in my throat, choking. He has secrets. He wants to devour. Empty glasses poured full of him. No, no. Empty glass. How did he do it? A chalice or vase. Vessels empty until full. He has the book. The heart. He needs the body to steal the soul.”

A flicker of movement caught my attention. I glanced up. Several more members of the brotherhood had joined us. They silently stood in a half circle, blocking us from the monastery. Some clutched long wooden rosaries in white-knuckled fists. Others looked primed for violence, their attention fastened on my friend. Claudia needed to get to safety before they tried exorcising a demon from her that didn’t exist.

“What madness is this?” Brother Carmine asked, his expression hard. My heart thrummed wildly. “Is she possessed by evil?”

“No, no. She’s all right.” Antonio waved him off. “Just a little too much to drink.”

I didn’t think members of the holy order told lies, but I was glad he did. Antonio was still on our side, no matter what his brothers might think. “Will you take her to my house? I think she must have been exposed to . . . something. She needs rest and tea. Tell Nonna she should give her some of the alkanet root she has.”

Antonio chewed on his bottom lip, looking doubtful about the likelihood of that folk remedy working, but didn’t argue. He offered his hand to her. “Will you come with me, Claudia? We’re going to go for a walk. It’ll help clear your head. Fresh air always does.”

She turned a troubled gaze on me, and I smiled. “He’s right. A walk will make you feel better. And so will some herbal tea and rest. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. But Domenico isn’t.” Claudia slipped her hand into Antonio’s, then cringed. “He said he’s not ready, and he will not move. Time is slipping like water through his hands. But still he waits. He waits and waits. He wants her to choose. He knows she will. Soon. Then he will take her heart, too. And her soul. He wants to kill again. The ultimate prize.”

“Domenico?” I asked, turning to Antonio when my friend retreated back into her own fractured world. “Was he here earlier?”

“I . . . I think so, but can’t remember for certain. He’s here most days. You don’t think . . .” He slid his attention to Claudia, who’d begun mumbling in that strange tongue again. Concern filled his expression. “You don’t think he hurt her, do you?”

“It’s dark. Dark and musty, and death is lurking. It’s gotten a taste and craves more.” Claudia blinked rapidly, suddenly seeming more like herself. “Is he still here?”

“No,” Antonio said, “Domenico’s gone.”

“But don’t worry.” I helped her to her feet. “I’ll find him.” I faced Antonio. “Do you know where he lives?” He shook his head. Of course things wouldn’t be easy; they never were. “I’ll check their arancini stand just in case they’re working late.”

“Alone?” Antonio’s mouth pressed into a tight line of worry. Brown hair fell across his brow. He looked so young and inexperienced compared to Wrath. “If he did something . . . maybe we should go together.”

I mustered up what I hoped was a reassuring smile. While I’d love to have him with me when I confronted Domenico, there were questions I needed to ask that he couldn’t be privy to. And not just because he was human. I wouldn’t be able to mention the dark arts, or toss around accusations of cavorting with demon princes in front of a member of the holy brotherhood.