They have been found.
VIII
G
I read it over again, not that it helped decipher the single line. I imagined the G stood for Greed. But it could also be Gluttony. They have been found. VIII. Envy and Greed had both been after the Horn of Hades, but Wrath never showed much interest in the amulets. Not to mention, he was now in possession of them until Pride allowed us into his territory.
“So what, then, were you searching for, dearest, secretive, Wrath?”
I picked up the serpent paperweight and rolled it between my palms. “Ouch.”
I turned it over; little sharp ridges in a geometric design poked out from the bottom. It was a wax seal, not a paperweight. Or maybe it was both. I set it aside and scanned the note again. Something stood out this time. It didn’t address anyone by name. Which meant there was no way to know if Wrath was the intended recipient, or if he’d intercepted it.
Maybe this message was meant for the devil—to let him know his horns had been recovered. Maybe the G symbolized Wrath’s true name and he was the one sending out the correspondence. Or maybe there wasn’t anything important about this at all and I was so desperate to find clues, I was inventing them.
It was also missing a date, so there was no way to know if this was recent news or ancient history. Unless that was what the VIII portion meant. I had no idea how the demons tabulated time. It was the late nineteenth century on earth, but it could be eight eons here. Or maybe it was indicating the missing eighth journal. I could spend eternity guessing.
I put the useless note away, commandeered a pot of ink, pen, and some parchment, retrieved the grimoire on beginning magic, and headed back to my chamber, more frustrated and lost than I’d felt before. Tomorrow, I had to hope, would bring some clarity, even if it came in the form of watching how the demons interacted and learning how they moved through court.
Given my working-class standing, I had not associated with wealthy circles back home, so tomorrow would be a test of how well I could blend in. My path to vengeance would be a slow burn, not a raging inferno. By the time I invaded House Pride, I would be well versed in proper deception.
When the demon responsible for Vittoria’s death finally felt the flames of my fury, I’d hopefully have burned his House of Sin to ash.
EIGHT
Drying blood or an aged merlot, reduced in a saucepan and drizzled over a cut of peppercorn-encrusted meat. I twisted from side to side in the gilded floor-length mirror. I couldn’t decide which description better captured the unique color of the gown I now wore. Nonna would call it a blood-drenched omen and offer up prayers to the goddesses.
I quite liked it.
I’d obviously never attended a royal demon dinner party before, and the note that arrived early this morning in Wrath’s elegant slashes indicated I should wear something fierce and formal. This gown was both. A stiff corset bodice plunged into a deep V between my breasts, showing off my bronzed skin. Fine black snakeskin was embroidered onto the daring top, while the skirts remained that solid shade of dark wine. Demon finery in all its gothic glory.
Since this gown was also strapless, my shimmering tattoo was on full display. I decided to forgo gloves to show it off. I wore no jewels except for the ring Wrath had gifted me. It would make an interesting topic of discussion, no doubt.
And would hopefully serve its purpose well.
I missed the silver cornicello I’d worn my whole life, but had to accept my amulet was gone for good. I moved into the bathing chamber and toyed with my unbound hair. Yesterday Fauna’s style had been loose and wild and lovely, so I fashioned mine in a similar manner to avoid any missteps in attire. Long dark waves cascaded down my back, and the shorter pieces framing my face fell forward as I pretended to converse with diners on either side of me.
Which wouldn’t do. I didn’t want to hide behind anything this evening. The lords and ladies of Hell would gaze upon me without any barriers.
No matter how afraid or nervous I was, I refused to look it.
In a vanity drawer, I discovered little bird skull clips and pulled the top portion of my hair back. I placed the bones prettily about my crown like a diadem of death and added flowers between the macabre. There. Now I looked like a princess of Hell, if not its future queen.
Although, with the bones in my hair and the familiar glint of barely leashed anger shining in my eyes, I supposed I could also pass for the goddess of death and fury.
I walked back into my bedchamber and halted halfway through it. Placed on the glass table—next to the bottle of wine left over from Anir’s visit the night before—was another skull.
“Blood and bones.” Almost literally.
I drew in a deep breath and moved close enough for it to deliver its message. Almost immediately, it spoke in that same, Vittoria-like voice that made goose bumps rise across my body. “Seven stars, seven sins. As above, so below.”
“Goddess above. What does that even mean?”
I didn’t expect a response and wasn’t too disappointed when none came. I heaved a sigh. I hated riddles. Confusing, worthless things. I pulled out the inkpot, pen, and parchment I’d taken from Wrath’s library and scribbled notes.
If one of Wrath’s brothers was taking the time to send messages via possessed skulls, it definitely meant something. Unless one of the seven princes was simply toying with me out of boredom. Which I doubted but wouldn’t rule out. Perhaps they were petty enough to do it.
~ Enchanted skulls ~