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“Ah. Such a pious young woman, reading the Good Book.”
“Mmh.” I smiled down at my cutting board. The novel I was in the middle of was a good book, it just wasn’t the Good Book. I refrained from telling him about the last chapter I read—the one where the hero expressed his love in many colorful and physically astounding ways. I supposed, technically, his stamina could be considered miraculous. I’d certainly become a believer of impossible expectations. “Do you have any fun activities planned with the brotherhood?”
“Fun is subjective. We’ll probably be somewhere near the float, doing very serious and holy things.”
I didn’t doubt that. After Antonio’s mother died suddenly last summer, he’d surprised everyone when he left home and started his religious life. Focusing on strict rules helped him grieve. He was doing much better now, and I was glad for him, even if it meant we would never be.
“Here.” I handed him the loaf of bread. “You slice this and I’ll season the food.”
I scraped the diced tomatoes into a bowl and added the mozzarella and basil. A hit of olive oil, some minced garlic, and a pinch of sea salt all followed in rapid succession. Since the bread wasn’t toasted and the brotherhood wouldn’t be eating right away, I added a tiny bit of my balsamic and stirred everything together. It wasn’t exactly the presentation I’d choose, but it was more important for the food to taste good and not let the bread get soggy.
“How was your trip?” I asked. “I heard you had to quell rumors of shape-shifters.”
“Ah yes, the heretics who came here from the Friuli district after the Inquisition are telling some interesting tales. Mighty warriors—whose spirits leave their bodies in animal form—to protect crops from malevolent forces have indeed returned.” He snorted. “At least that’s the story we were told in the village I was assigned to. They’re convinced there’s a spirit assembly where a goddess is teaching them ways to protect themselves from evil. It’s hard breaking old beliefs.” He met my gaze and a world of trouble brewed in his eyes. “Your nonna isn’t the only one who thinks demons have arrived.”
“I—”
A voice sounded in the corridor, too low to make out words clearly. Antonio held a finger to his lips. Whoever it was spoke again, a little louder. I still couldn’t understand what they’d said, but they did not sound friendly. I fumbled for a knife. A hooded figure stepped into the chamber from the shadows, and slowly extended its arms toward us. “Heathens-s-s.”
Goose bumps rose like an army of the undead across my body. Nonna’s cries of demons were replaced by my true fear of witch hunters. They’d found me. And there was no way I could use magic in front of them, or Antonio, without giving myself away.
I jumped back so quickly, I tripped over my skirts and crashed into the basket of supplies. Silverware clattered to the ground. The bottle of my special balsamic shattered.
Antonio clutched a wooden rosary that had been hidden under his robes, and stepped forward, placing himself between me and the intruder. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to be gone, demon.”
Suddenly, the figure doubled over and… giggled. Terror stopped coursing through me, and was swiftly replaced with anger. I pushed myself away from the wall and glared. “Vittoria.”
My twin stopped laughing and tossed her hood back. “Don’t mind me. I’m picturing the expression on your face again, and it’s even more hilarious the second time.”
Antonio slowly moved away, frowning down at the mess of glass and vinegar. I took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. “That wasn’t funny. And you made me break my balsamic.”
Vittoria winced at the bits of glass scattered across the floor. “Oh, Emilia. I’m really sorry.” She crossed the small room and crushed me against her in a giant hug. “When we get home you can break my favorite white sage and lavender perfume as retribution.”
I blew out a long breath. I knew she sincerely meant it; she’d happily hand over her bottle and watch me smash it to bits, but I would never choose revenge. “I’ll settle for a glass of the limoncello wine concoction you make instead.”
“I’ll make an entire pitcher.” She kissed each of my cheeks loudly, then nodded to Antonio. “You’re very intimidating with the whole lord’s command, brother Antonio. If I were a demon, I’m sure I would’ve definitely been banished back to Hell.”
“Next time I’ll brandish holy water. Burn the devil right out of you.”
“Hmm. You might need to bring a jug for that to work, especially if I summon him here.”
He shook his head, then turned to me. “I should be going; the brotherhood needs my help preparing for tomorrow. Don’t worry about the spilled vinegar—I’ll come back later to clean it up. Thank you again for the food, Emilia. After the festival, I’ll be traveling for a little while to dispel more superstitious rumors, but I hope to see you when I return.”
Not two breaths after he left the chamber, my stupid sister started dancing around the room, pretending to passionately kiss what I could only assume was Antonio. “Oh, Emilia. I hope to see you when I return. Preferably naked, in my bed, screaming the lord’s name.”
“Stop that!” I swatted at her, mortified. “He can probably still hear you!”
“Good.” She wiggled her hips suggestively. “Maybe it’ll give him some ideas. It’s not too late for him to leave the brotherhood. There’s no law or decree that says once he’s accepted orders he needs to stay forever. There are plenty more interesting ways for a man to find religion. Maybe you can bathe in holy water and show him.”
“You’re impossibly blasphemous.”
“And you are cherry red. Why not tell him how you feel? Or maybe you should just kiss him. Judging by the way he looks at you, I doubt he’d mind. Plus, the worst that can happen is he’ll wax poetic on his religious orders, and you’ll have to strangle him with his rosary.”
“Come on, Venus. You’ve had enough matchmaking for one day.”
I grabbed her hand and hurried out of the room, relieved to find the corridor empty.
No Antonio. Or any other member of the holy brotherhood. Thank the goddess. We rushed down the shadowy halls, and didn
