Demons invading my city, attacking my grandmother, stealing my cornicello, and murdering my sister didn’t suit me, either. Instead of arguing, I pulled a cannoli from the brown paper bag I’d tucked into my satchel. Nonna said you could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. I figured a cannoli would help me catch a prince of Hell just fine.
He looked startled when I handed it to him. “What is that?”
“Food. Unless you’ve been catching vermin, I doubt you’ve eaten.”
“I neither need human food, nor do I wish to taint my body with the foulness of it.”
I stared at him, horrified. After all the terrible things that had happened, this was putting me over the edge. “You really are a monster, aren’t you?”
“That doesn’t even look edible.” He took the cannoli between his two fingers and held it closer to inspect it. “What do you expect me to do with it?”
“Engage your enemies.”
He poked at the ricotta filling. “Is it poisoned?”
I sighed. “Just eat it, oh, mighty warrior. It’s for pleasure, not pain. I made them myself. I swear they’re not poisoned. This time.”
He looked skeptical, but took a bite. His attention flicked to mine as he chewed. I couldn’t help but grin as he took a larger mouthful, then grabbed a second cannoli from the bag. He was halfway through it when he noticed me still watching and scowled. “What?”
“I do not wish to taint my body with the foulness of human food,” I mocked. “But desserts are acceptable.”
He didn’t deign to respond. Instead he rummaged in the bag, frowning at the emptiness. He set it aside and looked me over again. “I imagine these delicacies were part of a larger scheme to infiltrate my defenses. You smell like blood that isn’t your own, your hair is tangled like some wild creature built a nest in it and invited its kin. My blade is missing from your hip. And you look ready to curse the world. What is it you desire to know, witch? What scared you?”
My hand moved to the place I’d been strapping his dagger. After the damage it had inflicted on my grandmother, I couldn’t stand the thought of holding it. Now I felt its absence almost as much as I missed my cornicello. “How would someone summon a Viperidae?”
“Someone with a sense of survival wouldn’t.”
“Maybe someone immortal and arrogant already did.”
“Doubtful.” Wrath wasn’t amused with my assessment of demon royalty. “Viperidae are unique creatures. If they choose to guard something, or bring it into their nest, no denizen of the underworld may interfere. They must choose to give it up on their own.”
I made a mental notation to bring him dessert anytime I wanted information. He was downright pleasant and chatty. “What does it look like?”
“Its namesake. Like a viper, it’s got long, hinged fangs. It also happens to be larger than I am and is twice as deadly. Very few antidotes exist if someone is bitten. And the ones that do exist aren’t to be taken lightly. There’s a cost for using them, like all magic. Make your own choice, but know you may not survive to see another sunrise if you disturb one.”
I rubbed at my arm, not because his warning frightened me, but because there was an annoying sensation burrowing beneath my skin. Like someone was scratching back and forth over the same section with a pin. Wrath tracked the movement and then glanced at his own arm.
It seemed our tattoos were transforming once again. Winding around the serpents—which I noted Wrath now sported around his twin crescent moons, too—were wildflowers.
Before my eyes, my snakes were given shimmering, even scales. I didn’t want to think it was beautiful, but it was. Undeniably so. Wrath curled his hand into a fist. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the pain, or because of our strange, ever-changing ink. I decided not to press the issue; I had one more question for the demon before I left on my mission.
“If someone was to attack a Viperidae, what sort of spell might they use?”
He dragged his attention from the magical ink on his arm, his look a study of resignation. “No one should be attacking a Viperidae. But, if someone was a foolish witch with a death wish, then that witch might try casting a sleeping spell. It might be the only way to sneak around it.”
“I . . .” I stopped myself from thanking him. If it wasn’t for him and his cruel brothers, my entire family wouldn’t be in this mess. I inhaled deeply, thinking about the sleep spell. It was simple. I liked simple plans. It meant there was less that could potentially go wrong.