I thought about it on the walk home.
Then while I changed into my nightgown, and brushed out my hair.
It haunted me and I welcomed it.
Later, once I was tucked into my bed, I pulled out the grimoire sheets again. I scanned the unfamiliar script and grinned. It was my first true smile in weeks, and it was as dark and vicious as my thoughts had been lately.
Vittoria had at least tried to summon a demon. The longer I sat with the thought, the more I accepted its truth. Tomorrow night, I’d try and summon one myself. Then, if it worked, I’d make a bargain of my own. In exchange for a small favor, I’d ask it to break the spell on her diary. I had nothing to lose—the summoning would either be successful, or it wouldn’t. I’d never know what happened to my sister if I didn’t set aside my doubts and try. With that, my decision was made.
All I needed now were some bones.
The next day at the restaurant passed by tortuously, but I managed to make good use of my time in the kitchen. I gathered everything the grimoire page listed, and no one suspected a thing. Except maybe Nonna. My grandmother stared at me across the island, silently chanting, as if she could read my mind and conjure a spell to pluck out the next thought before it took root.
Little did she know I’d been cultivating this idea since last night. I’d taken the bud of a plan and tended to it, urging it to blossom. Now it was full grown. I knew what I had to do.
I just needed the supplies and opportunity.
Nonna told us to hide from the Malvagi, to say our charms and bless our amulets with silvery shafts of moonlight and holy water, to never speak of the Wicked when the moon was full, and to do all the things a good witch did. Otherwise they’d steal our souls.
In the end, the monster we feared didn’t come from Hell. He came from privilege.
That man standing over my twin—with his fine clothes and expensive knife—deserved punishment like anyone else. He couldn’t just take what he wanted without facing the consequences. I was almost certain that the people I’d shown it to must have recognized his blade, but refused to speak out against him, fearing the repercussions. He might be powerful and wealthy, but justice would find him.
I’d make certain of it.
I still wasn’t sure if he acted alone, or if he was a member of the mysterious strega hunters, and it didn’t matter. He was the only one there that night. I would hunt him down first and find out more information later. If there were more people like him, I’d deal with it then.
I also had a plan to keep my family safe while tracking down Vittoria’s killer. Instead of one simple bargain, I’d make two. First, I’d have the demon I summoned break the enchantment on Vittoria’s diary, and then I’d have it locate the mysterious dark-haired man. Thankfully, having a possession like the snake knife would allow for this.
A demon I could control was the answer to a prayer.
It seemed I’d been wrong earlier; the goddess of death and fury hadn’t ignored my pleas. She’d simply been biding her time, waiting for me to turn my despair into something she could use. A twig was just a bit of broken wood until it had been sharpened into a spear. Grief carved me in half. And fury honed the pieces into a weapon.
Now it was time to unleash it.
Nine
Bone magic when used improperly can be part of the forbidden arts. Using the bones of animals—claws, nails, fangs, shells, and feathers—allows a witch to connect with the underworld. They must be gathered ethically, not sacrificed, as is popularly thought by humans. To harness their power, create a bone circle and include herbs and objects of intent.
—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire
I stood inside the lip of the cave, listening as the sea smashed into the rocks below, angry and insistent.
Salty spray raged up over the cliff, prickling the exposed skin on my arms and neck. Maybe the water was mirroring my mood. Or maybe it sensed the darkness of the rolled parchment tucked beneath my arm. I certainly could.
Witches were connected to the earth and channeled its powers into their own. I wouldn’t be surprised if the sea was wary of what was coming—the dark power I was about to unleash upon our realm. The sea might be worried, but I was not. I had to wait hours for Nonna to finally fall asleep in her rocking chair before I collected my supplies and snuck out. Any lingering sense of worry was eclipsed by cold determination to carry out my plan.
I had no idea how Vittoria came across these grimoire pages—it was another mystery to add to an expanding list—but I’d use them to my advantage. A strong gust of wind forced me deeper into the cavern. I’d not been entirely sure where I was going when I left the house, but felt drawn here. Vittoria used to find reasons for us to venture up to this cave as often as she could when we were children. It was almost as if she were here, guiding me now.