Storms and omens or not, all would be well in the di Carlo home.
The flames settled and Emilia sat back, biting her nails. A nasty habit Nonna was determined to break. The child spit a nail clipping out and went to toss it on the floor.
“Emilia!” Nonna’s voice rang loudly in the small room. The child started, dropping her hand, and gave a sheepish look. “In the fire! You know better than to leave things for those who practice le arti oscure.”
“Sorry, Nonna,” Emilia mumbled. She chewed her lip, and her grandmother waited for the question she knew was coming. “Will you tell us about the dark arts again?”
“Or the Malvagi?” Vittoria added, always interested in stories of the Wicked. Even on nights they were forbidden from uttering such names. “Please?”
“We shouldn’t speak of dark things aloud. It invites trouble.”
“They’re just stories, Nonna,” Emilia said quietly.
If only that were true. Nonna Maria traced a protection charm over her heart, finishing it with a kiss to her fingertips, and exhaled. The twins exchanged triumphant grins. It was impossible to keep the legends from the girls, no matter if it filled their heads with dreams of the seven princes of Hell. Nonna feared they romanticized demons too much. It was best, she decided, to remind them why they should be wary of beautiful creatures without souls.
“Wash your hands and help roll the dough. I’ll talk while you make the busiate.”
Their matching smiles warmed the chills still clinging to Nonna brought on by the storm and its warning. The little corkscrew pasta served with tomato pesto was one of the girls’ favorite dishes. They’d be pleased to find cassata already waiting in the ice box. Though the sweet ricotta sponge cake was an Easter specialty, the girls loved it on their birthday.
Even with all of their precautions, Nonna was unsure how much sweetness would remain in their lives, and spoiled them often. Not that she required extra incentive to do so. A grandmother’s love was its own sort of powerful magic.
Emilia pulled the mortar and pestle from the shelf, face strained in concentration as she gathered up the olive oil, garlic, almonds, basil, pecorino, and cherry tomatoes for the pesto alla Trapanese. Vittoria removed the damp cloth from the mound of dough and began rolling the pasta as Nonna had taught her. Eight years old and they already knew their way around the kitchen. It was unsurprising. Between their home and the restaurant, they practically grew up in one. They both peered up from thick lashes, their expressions identical masks of anticipation.
Vittoria said impatiently, “Well? Are you going to tell us a story?”
Nonna sighed. “There are seven demon princes, but only four di Carlos should fear: Wrath, Greed, Envy, and Pride. One will crave your blood. One will capture your heart. One will steal your soul. And one will take your life.”
“The Wicked,” Vittoria whispered, her tone almost reverent.
“The Malvagi are demon princes who stalk the night, searching for souls to steal for their king, the devil, their hunger ravenous and unyielding, until dawn chases them away,” Nonna continued, slowly rocking in her chair. The wood creaked, covering the sound of the storm. She nodded toward their tasks, making sure they held up their end of the bargain. The girls settled into their work. “The seven princes are so corrupted by sin, that when they cross into our world, they can’t bear being in the light and are cursed to only venture out when it’s dark. It was a punishment sent from La Prima Strega, many years ago. Well before man roamed the earth.”
“Where is the First Witch now?” Emilia asked, an edge of skepticism creeping into her little voice. “Why hasn’t she been seen?”
Nonna thought carefully. “She has her reasons. We must respect them.”
“What do the demon princes look like?” Vittoria asked, though she must have had this part memorized by now.
“They appear human but their ebony eyes are tinged red, and their skin is hard as stone. Whatever you do, you must never speak to the Wicked. If you see them, hide. Once you’ve caught a demon prince’s attention, he’ll stop at nothing to claim you. They are midnight creatures, born of darkness and moonlight. And they seek only to destroy. Guard your hearts; if given the chance they’ll rip them from your chests and guzzle your blood as it steams in the night.”
No matter that they were soulless creatures who belonged to the devil, or they’d kill them on sight, the twins were enchanted by these dark and mysterious princes of Hell.