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He raised a brow. His expression was so human, I forgot, for a second, how he’d arrived in this cave. He shouldn’t exist. Yet there he was defying all of my expectations. Tall, dark, and quietly seething. I couldn’t drag my attention from him, worried he was either a figment of my imagination, or proof of madness. I’d used the dark arts. Maybe this temporary delusion was my price.
It was much easier to think that was true, rather than accept I’d done the impossible—I’d bound one of the Wicked to this realm. Which was very, very bad.
He was human looking enough, but was the physical embodiment of a nightmare.
Blood drinking, soul stealing, immortal creature of the night. I fought the urge to jump away from the circle and held his gaze instead. A storm raged within those eyes. It was like standing on the edge of a darkened shore, watching lightning dance closer across the sea. A lick of fear trailed down my spine as he defiantly stared back. I had never been more grateful that I’d also bound him to protect. Instinctually I reached up and held my cornicello for comfort.
He looked ready to—sweet goddess of fury. His luccicare was black and gold. I’d only ever seen that once before. Recognition slammed into me, and I immediately dropped my cornicello and snatched my dagger from the floor. His dagger.
The hilt was as cool as the icy rage now rushing through my veins.
“I’m goin
g to kill you,” I snarled, then lunged for him.
TEN
Bones scattered as I attacked. The blade arced down, slicing a long, thin line across his hard chest. It should have pierced his heart. And it would have, if he hadn’t maneuvered back so swiftly. A strange, searing pain erupted under my skin. I didn’t want to consider what it meant—that maybe the mixture of our blood on the strange blade created a charm of its own. Or maybe the protection incantation also prevented me from striking him with a killing blow.
He yanked the dagger away with ease and tossed it on the ground.
I balled my hand into a fist and aimed for his center. It was like hitting a rock wall.
The demon stood there, allowing my assault to continue. While I exhausted myself with kicks and punches, he calmly looked around the chamber, enraging me more with his nonchalance. The demon didn’t seem too worried, and I wondered how many times he’d been summoned and subsequently attacked. He studied the circle and his attention jerked down toward me, immediately narrowing in on the fresh cut on my arm. A slow frown formed before he hid it.
“Why. Won’t. You. Bleed? Monster!” I was feral as I kicked and punched. My hatred and wrath so strong I almost got drunk on the intensity of it.
I glanced up in time to see him close his eyes, like he was enjoying those dark feelings, too. Nonna said demons pulled emotions to them, allowing them to wriggle and writhe around theirs. From the expression on his face, I was beginning to think that was true.
Disgusted, I stopped punching him and took a moment to catch my breath and regroup. Blood slipped down my arm and dripped to the ground. It wasn’t his, though. It was from the cut I’d made to summon him. I didn’t care if I bled myself dry if I took him to Hell with me.
“Bit of advice, witch. Yelling, ‘I’m going to kill you’ takes the surprise out of the attack.” He grunted as I landed a swift blow to his stomach. My punches were slowing and he didn’t look any worse for the wear. “You won’t succeed in killing me, but it would be a vast improvement in skill.”
“Maybe I can’t kill you, but I’ll find other ways to make you suffer.”
“Trust me, your very presence is accomplishing that.” Blood drops hissed within the circle. That strange searing under my skin was growing unbearable, but I was too mad to pay attention. “What spell did you use, witch?”
I stopped, breathing hard. “Vaffanculo a chi t’è morto.”
I wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what the curse meant, but he must have deduced it had something to do with fornicating with dead family members. He looked ready to drag me back to Hell now. He suddenly staggered away, cursing. “What spell did you use?”
“Well, considering you’re standing here, angry and unable to attack, I’d guess summoning spell, demon.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And one for protection.”
Out of nowhere, gold light flashed over my arm before disintegrating into pale lavender. A tattoo in the same shade of purple—twin crescent moons laying sideways within a ring of stars—appeared on my outer forearm, burning almost as violently as my wrath.
I stood there, panting, until the searing in my arm finally ceased. I watched as he looked down at his own arm and gritted his teeth. Apparently he was also experiencing that awful pain.
Good.
“You demon-blooded witch. You marked me.”
A pale tattoo had appeared on his formerly bare left forearm. Double crescent moons laying in a circle of stars. For a moment, he looked like he could hardly comprehend that I’d managed something so impossible. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why he and I now had matching tattoos, either, but would rather die than admit that to him.
It must be the cost of the dark magic I’d used to summon him. I almost laughed. When Carolina told me the spells would summon a lesser demon, I’d had a hard enough time believing her. I wondered if I was having a nightmare—there was no way I’d actually summoned a prince of Hell. It would take more magic than I possessed to control a creature like him for any good length of time.
“This is impossible.”
“On that much we can agree.” He thrust his arm at me. “Tell me the exact phrasing of this spell. We need to reverse it before it’s too late. There’s only precious minutes left.”
