I would not let my grandmother die. Not like this.
My father appeared a minute later, his eyes widening at the sight. “I’ll get bandages.”
I stopped paying attention to anything other than keeping the cloth pressed firmly against my grandmother’s wound. Time ticked by. Blood saturated the cotton, my mother prayed over a thick herbal paste she’d made. I held firmly. I wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t panic and could act calmly. But logic didn’t penetrate my terror. Mamma tried yanking my hands away, but I refused to budge. I had to keep applying pressure. Nonna needed me.
“It’s all right, baby. Let me get this on her. It’ll seal the wound.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. It’s all right.”
It took another bit of coaxing, but I finally relinquished my grip. Nonna slid to the ground, her breathing labored. I’d seen this in injured animals before and it wasn’t a good sign.
My mother slathered the thick paste across the injury, then wrapped one of the clean bandages around it. My father had brought them in before he went to work checking for any more intruders and securing our window. My mother finished tying it off with a prayer to the goddess of good health and well-being to heal Nonna quickly. I offered up a prayer of my own, hoping she listened to us both.
“Help me get her into bed, Emilia.”
I swiped at my tears and did as I was asked. Once we’d laid her across the mattress, my mother pulled up a chair to watch. I sat against the wall and stayed there until the sun set, turning the room bruised shades of purple and black. Nonna’s breathing finally evened out, and she fell into a deep, restorative sleep. She’d made it, no thanks to me. Praise the goddess.
“You should go get some rest, baby. Your grandmother will be fine. The worst is over.”
I nodded, but couldn’t sleep now. I wasn’t sure I could ever rest again without seeing the gory scene replay in my mind. And the worst part was, Nonna was almost killed because of me. Then, when she needed me the most, I’d failed her again. I’d lost all memories of spells or healing charms. I’d shut down and let fear take control. If I hadn’t started investigating my sister’s murder, or tricked Greed, none of this would have happened.
I crept into the kitchen, wanting to clean up the blood before my parents saw it again. I scrubbed until the floor shined and my fingers ached. Then I repeated the routine. Pouring water, scrubbing. I needed to remove the stains from the grout. It took most of the night, but I finally managed to erase all physical signs of the attack. But the memory would never leave me.
I rinsed out the rag and leaned against the island, sipping a glass of water. It took a while for me to notice at first, but eventually I realized the invisible demon came here with a mission. I absently reached up, thinking of Nonna’s injury, and went to hold my amulet. My hand dropped away, empty. I forgot I’d taken it off. I went to pluck it off the counter and froze.
My cornicello was gone.
Twenty
“You look like hell, witch.”
I glared at the demon of war by way of greeting. In a few short hours he’d be free, and I wasn’t sure he’d answer any questions once the containment spell dissipated. After the brutal attack on Nonna, I left the house and wandered around Palermo, deciding what to do next. I’d made a terrible mistake and it almost cost my grandmother her life. I shouldn’t have ever gone back to my house after confronting Greed. Of course he’d send spies after me to steal my amulet. It was reckless to think a prince of Hell would simply let me walk away unscathed after besting him.
Now that I knew my sister and I had been wearing the devil’s horns, and how powerful and dangerous they were, I had to get them back. I might not know where mine was at the moment, but thanks to Greed, I knew exactly where Vittoria’s was. I just needed some information from Wrath about the Viperidae first, and then I’d set out to retrieve it.
“You’d know better than most what that’s like.” I smiled sweetly. “I met two of your brothers, by the way. They’re absolute gems.”
Wrath looked neither surprised nor interested in the news. He sat with his back against the wall, legs straight out, surveying the circle of bones that contained him. Of course he wasn’t wearing the shirt I’d bought for him; it was lying in a discarded heap on the ground.
“I have six brothers. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Don’t you know who’s here?”
His attention subtly dropped to my hip before he jerked his gaze back up. “Have you come crawling back to beg for help? I’m not feeling very charitable today. Captivity doesn’t suit me.”