Nonna stared at me hard, trying to see through my lies. Her expression was a cross between disappointment and suspicion. I hadn’t shown much interest in food or creativity since Vittoria’s death. Just when I convinced myself she’d send me back upstairs with a list of charmwork, she stepped aside. “Don’t be late. There’s much to do.”
“Signora Grimaldi!” I hiked up my skirts and charged through the streets. Luck was finally on my side. I caught Carolina right before she crossed the road into the marketplace.
Carolina shielded her face from the rising sun, and stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley when she spotted me. “Emilia. I’m sorry for—”
“I don’t have much time, signora. I need your help with something . . . delicate.” I pulled the diary out and glanced around, ensuring we were alone. “There’s some enchantment on here I’ve never seen. I was hoping you might tell me what it is and how to break it.”
She took a small step away, staring at the diary like it was an abomination. “Nothing of this realm will do what you seek. Put it back where you found it, child. Its very presence calls them.”
“Them?”
“The Wicked. This magic stinks of their world—it wants to be found.”
I stared at Carolina, wondering if Nonna had somehow figured out my plan and had gotten to the dark witch first. “This is my sister’s diary, not some demon book.”
Carolina nodded to my satchel. “Show me what you’ve got in there.” I did another subtle sweep of our surroundings before pulling out the grimoire sheets. I handed them to her, watching her face swiftly drain of color. “This is a summoning spell.”
“I—I don’t understand. Why would my sister need a summoning spell?”
“Maybe she was trying to control a demon.”
I studied the black sheets. “That’s impossible. All demons are trapped in Hell. Just like they’ve been for nearly a hundred years.”
Carolina snorted. “Is that what your nonna’s been telling you? Go home and try summoning one yourself, see what happens. Unless you have an object that belongs to a prince of Hell, these spells should only call forth a lower-level demon. They’re easy to control and often trade information for little favors or trinkets. And I promise you, they aren’t all trapped in the underworld. Almost every witch—whether they pray to the goddesses of light or dark magic—knows that.”
I stared at the dark witch, heart thudding. “Are you suggesting my sister was summoning demons and asking them for favors before she died?”
“There’s no way to know for sure what she was doing, but I guarantee those spells are strictly for summoning. I doubt a demon aided her without some sort of bargain. They don’t believe in doing charitable work. There’s always some gain in it for them.” She looked me over, her expression softening. “Forget what I said, child. Don’t dabble in the demon realm. Whatever your sister was doing, I promise you’ll want no part in it.”
She sounded just like Nonna.
I thanked her and said good-bye, then quickly made my way to Sea & Vine. Instead of answers, I had more questions. If Carolina was right about the spell on Vittoria’s diary not being of this realm, then opening it was impossible. Unless . . . An idea slowly formed, one that made my pulse race. If my sister had summoned a demon, maybe she’d had it use its brand of magic to seal her diary. I couldn’t imagine any other reason my twin would summon a demon aside from that.
Despite the stories Nonna told us growing up, Vittoria knew I didn’t really believe in the demon princes. I wasn’t as skeptical about lesser demons, but I thought they were trapped in their realm with no means of escape. It would have been the perfect way for her to ensure I’d never unlock the secret she was so desperate to keep. And Vittoria was almost right, except for one detail.
She never could have predicted the way her death would change me. There was nothing in this world or the next that would keep me from solving her murder. And I would solve it.
I mulled over different theories during dinner service, barely concentrating at Sea & Vine. I kept trying to think like my twin. Some thoughts were wildly outlandish, others more plausible. But one idea stuck out from the others. This was the one I carefully considered as the day dragged on.
Maybe because it seemed so impossible. Or maybe because Vittoria didn’t believe in the word. Whatever the reason, the idea stayed with me as I chopped vegetables, and cleaned my knives.