Blood and bones. I had little doubt Wrath would take a huge portion of them down alone, but there were so many. Too many. My sister had amassed an army. As if my thoughts summoned her, Vittoria appeared behind a row of particularly vicious werewolves. Gone was her signature smirk, the mischievous light dancing in her eyes. The being that stared at us was cold, devoid of humanity. Immortal. She was what I truly was, and it chilled me to the core.
“We had an appointment to speak today, sister. I got tired of waiting, so I brought some friends to escort you to the Shifting Isles.” Vittoria’s focus moved to Wrath. “I suggest you let her go quietly.”
The ground rumbled, as if Wrath’s fury had shaken the very core of the realm. “Surrender yourself to House Wrath, willingly and peacefully, and I’ll allow your puppies to live.”
“How very magnanimous of you.” Vittoria’s mouth curved into a slow, vicious smile. “And foolish. It seems you’ve not heard what I can do. Allow me to demonstrate.”
“Vittoria,” I said, forcing calmness into my voice. “Come with us.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you’re suspected of murder, and there’s a price on your head.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” I held her amused stare. “And I believe there’s much more to the story. Please. Stand down and come talk to me. I want to hear your side of things. Let me help clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
“Why should I care if a prince of Hell thinks I’m a murderer? None of them can be trusted. They trick and manipulate and pride themselves on it. And I’ve tolerated playing by their rules long enough.”
My sister held her right arm up and bent her elbow as if she were holding a ball. She was too far away for me to make out the words she was whispering, but I watched in growing fear as she softly chanted. Glittering lavender light swirled around her bent elbow, slowly circling her forearm and wrist, before settling around her hand.
Wrath cursed and stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. I peered around him, horrified as my sister’s fingers lengthened. Claws emerged from her too-long fingers, ebony as the night and sharper than daggers. Her arm looked charred, as if she’d stuck it into some hellfire and yanked out magic that wished to be left alone. Dark veins crept past her elbow, seeming to mix with her blood. The swirling lavender light winked out.
She held up her clawed hand, proudly showing off the demonic-looking appendage. I could do nothing but stare as she turned to a shifter. “Domenico, my love. Come.”
The grayish-blue wolf to her right—the size of a bear with glowing pale purple eyes—padded toward my twin, whining softly as it crouched before her.
Without warning, Vittoria’s magically altered hand punched through the wolf’s chest, the sound of bone crunching and muscle tearing sickening in the eerie silence. I could hardly believe what had happened. Vittoria ripped her arm back, clutching a still-beating heart and pivoted, holding it up for all to see. Domenico collapsed in an unmoving heap of bloody fur, dead.
“What have you done?” I whispered. My stomach lurched at the brutality. The gore. I’d seen wounds like that before. On witches. Wrath and I hadn’t quite known what had removed their hearts. He’d guessed animal, unable to identify any trace of a demon. I’d been convinced it was a prince of Hell. I slowly shook my head, unable to process that my twin was capable of an act so violent, so merciless. She’d murdered her own lover. She’d murdered the witches on our island. The why was still a mystery, but I now knew who. And it sickened me. “You killed those girls.”
Not Antonio, or an angel of death. My sister. My blood.
And at this moment, it was hard to believe she hadn’t also killed Vesta.
Vittoria looked me over, her gaze calculating. “Anyone can kill, dear sister. Would you like to see the true reason they fear me? Why they wish to see me caged?”
“Please.” My voice came out pleading, but I didn’t care. “Please. Don’t. Just come with us.”
“Begging is for mortals.”
Vittoria shifted, her attention dropping to the lifeless wolf at her feet. With her free hand, she bent two fingers in a “come here” motion, and Domenico’s lifeless wolf body levitated. She cocked her head, looking at the heart that still beat slowly in her hand, then shoved it back into his chest. When she ripped her demonic hand back out, the wound healed immediately.
His matted fur disappeared, replaced by a shiny, nonbloodied wolf coat. All signs of death were gone. Domenico’s glowing eyes opened, and he snarled, baring his teeth.
Not at the creature who’d slain him, but at us. All I could do was stare, unable to process that my sister had not only murdered someone but also brought them back.
“We are hell gods, Emilia. We are the Feared.” My twin looked at me again. “Neither witches, nor shifters, nor even princes of Hell can stand against us when we’re united. Your power is awakening. It’s time to take back what is ours. It’s time to come home.”
My home was House Wrath. By choice. Something dark rose up inside me, protective.
“Is this why you cautioned me away from Wrath? Because you want me to join you?”
“Of course. You don’t belong with the demons. You belong with your blood.”
“And if I refuse to go with you?” I tested my grip on my dagger. “What then?”
My sister allowed a few beats of silence to pass, just long enough for it to be uncomfortable.
“We’ll find another way to free your power from its magical cage.” Vittoria ran her attention over Wrath, amusement lighting in her eyes as the ground rolled beneath her feet. “You are kerosene. Volatile. Noxious.” She pulled a dagger from the ethers. Its blade glowed with strange magic symbols. Wrath went preternaturally still. “And I am the spark you need to ignite.”
My husband didn’t wait for her to strike.
In a whirl of movement and fury, he unleashed the full might of his power.
And the wolves attacked.
EIGHT
Wrath fought with brutal grace, moving like a living, breathing nightmare as he cut a bloody swath through our enemies. He killed without mercy or pause. Something leapt, he destroyed, already on to the next kill before the former hit the ground.
His body wasn’t simply made for war; it was built for it through hard work, a weapon he’d honed to perfection for this very purpose. For a moment that just lasted from one heartbeat to the next, I could only stare at the warrior.
He struck; wolves went down and didn’t get up. Blood splattered across the snowy ground. The metallic tang thickening the air along with the gamy scent of adrenaline. In the matter of mere seconds, the demon of war had already taken down a dozen werewolves. A dozen more froze solid, their bodies suddenly encapsulated in ice, midattack.
Here the infernal truth of his power was on full display.
Wrath sent out a pulse of magic that traveled like lightning across the land. A signal, no doubt. The demon horses broke free of their carriage gear and bridles, charging through wolves, their metal teeth gnashing, tearing through flesh and bone with ease.