“One final word of caution.” Wrath pushed himself up from the ground and moved to where I stood near the edge of the bone circle. I ignored the expanse of toned, golden skin in my face. “Freedom will be mine soon. If you are foolish enough to attack such a creature, I will not come for you.”
I stared up at him. “Good.”
Last month if someone told me I’d choose to wander through forgotten tunnels beneath the cathedral alone, tracking down an ancient snake demon guarding one half of a sacred key that not only locked the gates of Hell but were actually the horns of the devil, I’d think they needed medical attention.
Emilia Maria di Carlo didn’t do danger. My sister was the adventurous one—I was satisfied with safe, clean fun. Give me a steamy romance novel with forbidden love and impossible odds.
That was the kind of adventure I could get behind.
A little more than a month ago I would’ve laughed with my sister over the possibility that something like a giant, netherworldly snake even existed, thinking Nonna’s superstitions were hard at work again. Even with magic running through my veins, I never fully believed in the stories she told us; they were too fantastical. Immortal, blood-drinking creatures like the Wicked couldn’t be real.
Now I knew better. Every tall tale was rooted in truth.
I followed a strange, foul egg odor and bits of snakeskin that had been shed, wishing I’d gotten over my aversion to Wrath’s dagger and had taken it with me. Light from grates above dappled the ground every once in a while, but I traveled mostly in darkness.
I paid attention to the slightest shift in the atmosphere, allowing my senses to guide me. I had a suspicion the demon wouldn’t want to draw attention to itself or its precious treasure.
Plus, I already had a good idea where its nest was—Greed said it was under the cathedral, and I was quickly approaching the turnoff for it. I paused at the corner and collected myself.
I’d been mentally running through my plan, and now that I was almost facing my enemy, it seemed like it was much too simple to actually work. Maybe Wrath had decided to send me to my death armed with an impossible scheme. Diabolical demon.
I drew in a deep breath. I could do this. But I needed to move quickly. The longer I stood around, debating, the more my fear grew. I imagined what my sister would do if she were here instead. She’d charge in to save the day—like she tried doing when she’d agreed to the devil’s bargain. Granted, that didn’t turn out to be the wisest decision, but at least she was brave enough to try. Compared to what she’d done, casting a simple sleep spell and retrieving a necklace was easy.
I exhaled slowly and peered around the corner. Amber-colored light spilled into the chamber from above, illuminating the snake-shaped demon. Wrath hadn’t exaggerated—the Viperidae was bigger than he was. Oil-slick midnight scales covered a body coiled in the center of the tunnel. Even curled up, the demon took up most of the space; its prone form was taller than me by a good head or more. When it was alert and upright . . . I didn’t want to think about facing something like that.
I pulled a handful of dried chamomile leaves from my skirt pocket, offered them to the goddess of night and slumber, and whispered, “Somnum.”
Steady breathing indicated the beast was now in a deep slumber, a gift from the goddess. I exhaled. Now I just had to find the amulet and sneak back out the way I’d come. The Viperidae faced the opposite direction, and its head was easily twice the size of our biggest oven. I didn’t have to see its fangs to know they’d skewer me with one bite.
I scanned the nest and almost whooped with victory when I spotted a familiar horn-shaped object. My sister’s amulet glinted on the ground next to the beast. As luck would have it, the cornicello was on my side of the tunnels. It seemed like it should be fairly easy to sneak over, grab it, and retreat without waking the demon. I looked around, cataloguing every exit I could make out in the dim light. Two more tunnels formed offshoots in a Y layout. Easy.
And it would have been, if it wasn’t for all the pebbles and debris littered on the ground. One small misstep and, regardless of the sleep spell, the Viperidae would be on me in an instant. I gave one last prayer to a goddess I hoped was listening, and took the first step into the tunnel.
I didn’t so much as breathe too deeply, fearful of making the slightest sound. Unnatural silence blanketed the chamber like freshly fallen snow. Once, when we were little, Nonna brought us to a cabin in northern Italy where we met one of her friends. I was too young to remember what the exact circumstances were, but I never forgot the smothering quiet of snow.