Twelve
Never enter into a bargain with a demon, but most especially a prince of Hell. The Malvagis’ lies are like sugar—sweet, but deadly when too much is ingested over time. Beware: Very few antidotes can be crafted for such a wicked poison.
—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire My heart thrashed from his proximity, the sound almost as loud as the waves attacking the cliffs below. He lingered a moment before stepping away, like he not only heard it, too, but relished the rhythmic, primal beat. I wondered if it reminded him of war drums, and if he suddenly craved battle. I certainly did. Too many emotions were swirling inside me, making my decision especially hard. My sister’s possible bargain with his brother. Wrath’s blood trade. This whole strange, impossible night. I was barely able to wrap my mind around the fact that the Wicked were not only real, but that one was standing before me, offering a bargain.
“Well?” he asked. “Do you willingly accept my blood trade?”
“You haven’t bothered to explain why you’re offering it, so no.”
He took a deep breath, like the very act of explaining himself to a witch was exhausting. “Per the terms of your protection spell, I must ensure your safety. The spell binds me from harming you, but it also requires me to grant you protection from others. A blood bond between us will alert other demons that you are a temporary member of House Wrath, and therefore they should not kill or maim you too terribly. There. Will you agree to the blood bond now?”
Not maiming me too terribly wasn’t the same as not maiming me at all. I stared, lips pursed. After a minute, I slowly shook my head. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re bound until I release you, and I don’t plan on summoning any other demon. Therefore, I don’t need your protection.”
“First, I’m bound to this circle for three days. Not until you release me. Your . . . protection charm is different—that is, unfortunately, for eternity now.” He rolled his shoulders, though it didn’t appear to undo the tension in them. “Second, the blood trade will allow me to sense when you’re in danger. Without it, I can’t guarantee your safety. Which puts me in violation of the rules that you made when you crafted that spell.”
“Is that so.” My tone accused him of being the worst liar I’d ever met. “None of that matters. When our time’s up, I’m releasing you back to Hell, not the shopping district.”
“Blood of a half-dead demon. This was your first summoning spell, wasn’t it?” He watched me carefully. I glared, but said nothing to deny it. He sighed. “Of course I’m bound to an incompetent fledgling until the end of time. Do us both a favor and don’t accept my offer. I’d prefer to not be your lapdog anyway.”
I cocked my head to the side. “You’d have to come whenever I called for you?”
“Not exactly, but like I said before, I would know when you needed me.”
“Why do you care about protecting me?”
“I don’t. But thanks to your spell I’m forced to, or I’ll risk having my powers diminished. Therefore, I am adhering to the terms. Some of us graciously accept our duty.”
Sure. When we were magically required to. “How exactly does the protection work?”
“Demons will sense the bond and reconsider harming you. It might not persuade all of them not to kill you, but it would give them pause. They’d know they’d incur my wrath as punishment for interfering in House matters.”
Much as I was loath to admit it, having the demon of war as a guardian angel wasn’t the worst luck. I didn’t have to trust or even like him—I only needed to have faith in my own instincts. Right now they were telling me he wasn’t responsible for murdering my sister. I was fairly certain this bargain was more beneficial to him, but I’d eventually find a way to bend it in my favor. And even if I couldn’t, it didn’t matter. Wrath didn’t seem to want me dead, and I needed to be very much alive to discover what happened to Vittoria.
“Fine. I accept your offer of a blood trade.”
“Willingly?” he asked. I nodded. “Hand me my dagger.”
I hesitated for only a second, recalling the protection charm I’d cast on him. For the first time since he appeared in the cave, he looked elated as I slid the blade into his waiting grasp. Before I changed my mind, he cut his finger and enticed a few blood drops to bead up. The wound sealed almost immediately after.
“I won’t have to . . . drink it, will I?”