Humans grew suspicious of what they deemed sudden madness. Whispers of the devil followed. Soon our world became too dangerous for real witches to meet, even secretly after that. So the thirteen families of Palermo adopted a strict code of silence and stuck to themselves.

Man had a funny way of blaming the devil for things he didn’t like. It was strange that we were called evil when humans were the ones who enjoyed watching us burn.

“So aside from the demons invading our city, how are you?” Antonio didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Good thing you’ve got a member of the holy brotherhood watching out for your trembling soul.”

“You’re terrible.”

“True, but you don’t really think so.” His dark eyes glittered as I tossed a diced tomato at him, my face flaming. He dodged it with ease. “Or, at least I hope you don’t.”

“I’ll never tell.” I dropped my attention to the plump tomato I was dicing. Once, when we were younger, I’d used a truth spell on him to see if he’d returned my feelings. Much to my delight, he had and it felt like the world rejoiced with the discovery. When I told Nonna what I’d done, she made me scrub the kitchen from top to bottom by myself for a month.

It hadn’t exactly been the reaction I’d expected.

Nonna said truth spells—while not explicitly part of the dark arts—should never be used on humans because they were part of Il Proibito. The Forbidden were few, but held severe consequences.

Free will was one of the most basic laws of nature in this world, beyond notions of light or dark magic, and should never be trifled with, which was why truth spells were off-limits. She used old Sofia Santorini as a cautionary tale whenever we questioned her strict rules.

Not every witch in our community shared the same views as Nonna, though. When the coven disbanded, some families—like my friend Claudia’s—openly turned to the dark arts. They believed magic was magic and could—and should—be used however a witch wanted to use it. Blood, bones; practitioners of the dark arts said all were viable tools. Vittoria tried using that logic on Nonna when we were fifteen, and ended up being the toilet chambermaid for a solid week.

“Are you planning on sneaking away from the restaurant to celebrate tomorrow?” Antonio finished cubing the mozzarella and dutifully started chopping fresh basil.

“Maybe. It depends on how many customers we have and how late it gets. Honestly, I might just go home and try out some new recipes, or read.”

“Ah. Such a pious young woman, reading the Good Book.”