“So you see.” Vittoria walked over to where our grandmother was slumped and unconscious in her chair. “These witches do not deserve your sympathy. They deserve to die. Which is why I went through and started taking their daughters. Let them feel what it was like to lose it all.” Vittoria spun on her heels and met my eyes. “No one binds Death or Fury and lives to tell the tale. They wanted to avoid a war? Well, that’s precisely what they’ll get. I won’t stop until each family responsible has paid. The princes of Hell are no better and ought to have paid a long time ago for their sins. You need to be by my side, taking your rightful revenge. It is the only way House Vengeance can rise again.”
“You’re going to start a war between supernaturals.”
“Start?” Vittoria asked, looking around. “War’s already begun. It started the moment they cursed us and held us captive for nearly twenty years in that realm. It began when that witch cursed the demon you call husband now and dragged us into their issues. All of them have forgotten who we are. What we are capable of. Some battles are not fought with weapons in fields, sister. Some are much more effective when subtle moves are made over time. I don’t ultimately care if other supernaturals fight; I care only for vengeance for us.” She looked down at the woman who’d been our grandmother, her expression going impossibly colder. “Wrath will never give you his heart. He cannot. The curse has not been lifted for him. He will always keep part of himself locked safely away. Once you figure that out, come back to me. We have much to accomplish together. Just as we always did.”
“I need you to tell me one thing. Did you kill Greed’s commander or help her escape? Pride said she’d been asking about his portal.”
“Pride has proved to still care only for himself. Just as he always has. And there is much you still don’t understand—and will not understand—until you remove your spell-lock.” Vittoria ignored my questions and nodded to Domenico. The werewolf stepped forward and made a glittering portal. It was clear my sister wasn’t going to talk about the magical skulls or any potential demon murder or escape. And I needed to get back to Wrath before he did something reckless. I looked at Nonna, and a sliver of worry crept in. “What are you going to do with her?”
“Send her back to the coven with a message.” I wasn’t sure if her bruises were the message. Part of me wanted to beg for her life. To show mercy. To prove to everyone I wasn’t the monster they feared me to be. But maybe I was. Before I stepped through the portal, my sister said, “If I come to find you again, you will regret it. I expect your assistance soon.”
I paused on the magical threshold and leveled a cold look at my twin. “Do not threaten me. And do not ever take me here against my will again. If I want to find you, I’ll do so. I have tolerated this because of what I’ve gained. You have many enemies here; you don’t need another.”
FOURTEEN
A steely, murderous rage flickered in Wrath’s eyes as I jolted up in bed, my soul thrust back into my body. His expression promised unending pain and torment.
Dragging me to the Shadow Realm a second time was a line Vittoria and Domenico clearly shouldn’t have crossed. And now the demon of war looked ready to collect his due. Like the vampire court to the south, Wrath was out for blood. Goddess, werewolf, demon, it didn’t appear to matter who received the brunt of his sin as long as his enemies paid.
“I’m unharmed,” I said, curling onto my side to face him. “Just drained.”
Wrath pulled the blankets up over me, then laid a heavy arm around my waist. His silence filled the room, louder and more tense than any words could. Knowing what I did now, about how I’d been wrenched from him in the past, wrenched from us just as we’d truly fallen for each other, I could only imagine that what he was feeling now wasn’t good. Vittoria was tearing into wounds from the past, and Wrath seemed ready to strike back, to inflict some pain in return.
“I’m here.” I rested my hand over his arm, squeezing the hard muscle gently. He was coiled tight enough to snap. I traced the gold serpent tattoo, hoping to soothe him. A quick inspection of the bedchamber proved he hadn’t iced it over, which was a good sign. “I’m all right. Truly. I also warned my sister there would be ramifications if she took me again.”
He was quiet for another long moment, drawing in a few measured breaths. The room chilled a fraction before he forced himself under control. He ran a gentle hand over my arm, lightly rubbing warmth back into me while making sure I was, indeed, unharmed.