I rushed across the room, dropped to my knees, and almost broke my fingernails as I pried the board up. Inside were all the objects I remembered.
Plus a gambling chip with a crowned frog on one side, and two thick sheets of black parchment tied with matching string. I blotted them on my nightgown, hoping I hadn’t ruined this precious piece of my twin. My hands trembled as I unrolled them. Gold roots edged the border, the ink shiny against the darkness of the oversized page. They were spells torn from a grimoire I’d never seen. I scanned the script, but couldn’t quite identify what it was used for. It listed herbs and specific colored candles and instructions in Latin. I pushed the sheets aside and pulled her diary into my lap.
I was willing to bet my own soul that this was the key to unlocking what she’d been doing—and who she’d mistakenly trusted—in the days and weeks leading up to her death.
I ran my fingers across the scarred leather. Holding her diary made me ache with memories. At night she’d write in it constantly, recording everything from each of my strange dreams, to Claudia’s scrying sessions, notes about her perfumes, spells and charms, and recipes for new drinks. I had no doubt she also told this diary each secret she’d been keeping from me.
All I had to do was crack the spine, and I’d discover everything I needed to know.
I hesitated. These were her private thoughts, and I didn’t want to commit one more violation when she’d already suffered so much. I sat quietly, considering what she would urge me to do. I easily heard her voice in my head, telling me to stop thinking about the fall and to just jump. Vittoria took risks. She made hard choices, especially if it meant helping her family.
In order to find out who killed her, I needed to follow in her footsteps, even if it made me uncomfortable. I inhaled deeply, and opened the diary.
Or I would have, if the pages weren’t stuck together.
I pulled a little harder, not wanting to destroy it, but worried the water had somehow damaged it. The book didn’t budge. I yanked it with all of my strength. It didn’t even bend. I scooted over to the wall, placed my feet on the lip of the back cover and my fingers along the front and tried prying it, and . . . nothing. A dark suspicion took shape.
I whispered a spell of unveiling, and tossed a pinch of salt over my shoulder for luck with deciphering the enchantment. Faint spiderwebbing in a violet-blue hue rose around the diary like a tangle of thorny vines. My sister had spelled it shut using magic I’d never seen before.
Which meant she’d known exactly how dangerous her secrets had been.
Eight
Vittoria had done more than dabble in the dark arts. I couldn’t open the diary using force, so I tried a spell of un-making, burned herbs that helped with clarity, lit candles and prayed to every goddess I could think of, but the stubborn diary gave none of its secrets away.
I tossed the book on the floor and cursed. Vittoria had used a spell I’d never encountered. Which meant she’d probably figured out I’d snooped in her diary a few weeks ago. She really didn’t want me to know her secret. And that made me even more determined to find out why.
I paced around our little room, watching the sun slowly rise. I needed a plan. Now. Aside from a forbidden truth spell here and there, I knew little of dark magic and how it actually worked. Nonna said the dark arts demanded payment since they took from something instead of using what already was. I’d happily sacrifice whatever I needed to in order to get what I wanted. I had one large clue and no way to access it. Except . . . I smiled as an idea struck. I couldn’t break the spell, but I knew someone who might be able to: Carolina Grimaldi.
Carolina was Claudia’s aunt and had taken Claudia in when her parents left for America a year or two apart. She was well versed in the dark arts, and was slowly teaching Claudia everything she knew. I didn’t want to involve my friend, so I decided to go directly to the source of her knowledge. Carolina had a stall in the busy marketplace and, if I hurried, I might catch her before she opened her booth.
I grabbed a satchel and stuffed the grimoire sheets and diary inside, then ran for the door.
Nonna stepped into my path, frowning. “Is the devil chasing you?”
I hoped not, but that was up for debate. “Not that I know of.”
“Good. Then you can sit a minute and tell me where you’re running off to at this hour.”
“I—” I almost confessed everything, but thought about my sister. Vittoria kept her secrets close, and was willing to die with them. There had to be a good reason why. “I wanted to stop by the marketplace for some spices before we start prepping for dinner service. I have an idea for a new sauce.”