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Even if I felt slightly guilty for using his own magic against him, I refused to let it color my judgment. He had his mission and I had mine. That was it. I rummaged around on the floor, but couldn’t find my clothes. Damned demon. Of all the ways he could take his vengeance, I didn’t predict walking through city streets naked to be one of them.
I glanced up, ready to curse Wrath to Hell again, and noticed a new dress folded in a neat pile in the corner where he’d been standing. I lifted it up, surprised by its beauty. Dark skirts had tastefully placed gold glitter sprinkled across them—not unlike his shimmering luccicare. Black sheer sleeves fell gracefully from an off-the-shoulder top. And a gold corset with thorns and wings stiched across the back finished it off. I forgot my clothing had been torn during the Viperidae attack. Some feeling I’d rather not dwell on took shape as I held the gown. I shoved it away.
The demon prince’s magic crackled under my skin, infected my soul. I didn’t want to like how alive it made me feel.
I quickly dressed, needing a mundane task to focus on while my feelings darted from one extreme to the next. With Wrath gone, it was only marginally easier to think. Mostly because my thoughts kept returning to him—to the expression on his face. I’d hurt his feelings. And it… bothered me. What a ludicrous turn of events. His family sent invisible ghost demons to attack my grandmother and steal my cornicello, and I was feeling bad about potentially banishing a demon to Hell. Where he lived and ruled. Probably happily. In the height of demonic luxury. With fire and brimstone and an orchestra of the screaming souls of the damned.
Still, it might have been a rash decision. Unpleasantness aside, Wrath could be useful to my quest for justice. I was almost positive he had ulterior motives for aligning himself with me, but when I really needed him, he’d been there. That act, above everything else, told me enough.
My soul was safe with him.
Which meant we could set our differences aside and work together to solve Vittoria’s murder. Neither one of us would love the idea, but at least I could trust that he wouldn’t kill me. As of now, the evidence was pointing to a prince of Hell being responsible for the murders, not witch hunters. After what happened with Greed and the attack on Nonna, I needed Wrath on my side.
I blew out a long breath, hoping it was a sound decision.
Goddess curse me, now I had to find out where I’d sent the Prince of Wrath.
I grabbed his shirt, and stole into the city to track down my missing prince of Hell.
TWENTY-TWO
“If you want me to speak with you now, ask nicely.”
I wouldn’t call it relief, but a knot in my chest loosened when I found Wrath stuck in the summoning circle again. He wasn’t angry like I’d expected, only a touch bemused. I supposed he didn’t expect to be banished right after saving my life. Which was fair. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to repay him that way, either. “Are all demons mad, or is it just you?”
He blew out a breath. “You’re not the most pleasant viper in the pit, are you? Thanking someone who saved your life by imprisoning them isn’t how things are done in my realm. There’s no denying you could stand to work on your manners.”
All thoughts of striking a tentative alliance left me. A demon lecturing about manners was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. The very nerve of him. I fired off a dozen different suggestions—that included farm animals—for what he could do with his remaining time on earth.
“Charming. I wonder where your creativity comes from, perhaps personal experience?” Bickering wasn’t getting us anywhere, and I had more important things to do. Apparently, Wrath felt the same way. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “What’s got your skirts all twisted, witch?”
“Nothing.”
“If it’s about the spell I used, or the dress…”
“It’s not.” For some reason, now that I was near him again, I wasn’t quite ready to ask for his help solving my sister’s murder. I needed some other assurance that this was the best course of action. And there was one thing he might be able to answer that would help me make up my mind. If he didn’t laugh himself to death first. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “An invisible demon attacked my grandmother yesterday. And before that, I think… I think it was stalking me.”
I expected him to mock me, or ask if I’d recently indulged in too many spirits. Instead he studied me very carefully. “Did it speak to you?”
I nodded. “It said, ‘he’s coming.’”
Wrath paced around the bone circle. “Sounds like an Umbra demon. But for it to be here and speak to you… did it say anything else?”
“I—I don’t remember exactly. The first time it said something about memories and hearts being stolen.”
“The first time?” He swung around to stare at me. Wrath wasn’t very good at showing a wide range of emotions, probably because he was an immortal being spawned in Hell and not a human, but was clearly surprised at this news. “Exactly how many times have you encountered it?”
“Maybe three? I thought I was being followed in the monastery… that night… then I found my sister and didn’t think about it again.” I started walking around the outer edge of the circle. “What’s an Umbra demon?”
“Mercenary spies, mostly. They sell their services to any royal House that has use for them. There are a few who are only loyal to Pride. They’re mostly incorporeal and are very hard to kill. Magic doesn’t always work on them the way you’d imagine it to.”
Very hard to kill wasn’t impossible to kill. A silver lining if ever there was one. “If it’s supposed to be spying, why reveal itself?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it, witch? They typically don’t speak at all.”
“Do you think Greed hired it?”
“Why would I think that?”
