“She spun stories like sugar, and they were airy and sweet until they burned, and now we’ll all burn because he’s here and mad, and the gates . . . the gates . . . she said to protect the gates. But he’s not chained to them anymore, is he? The poison was sweet, I still taste it. Lingering. Stick, stick, sticking in my throat, choking. He has secrets. He wants to devour. Empty glasses poured full of him. No, no. Empty glass. How did he do it? A chalice or vase. Vessels empty until full. He has the book. The heart. He needs the body to steal the soul.”

A flicker of movement caught my attention. I glanced up. Several more members of the brotherhood had joined us. They silently stood in a half circle, blocking us from the monastery. Some clutched long wooden rosaries in white-knuckled fists. Others looked primed for violence, their attention fastened on my friend. Claudia needed to get to safety before they tried exorcising a demon from her that didn’t exist.

“What madness is this?” Brother Carmine asked, his expression hard. My heart thrummed wildly. “Is she possessed by evil?”

“No, no. She’s all right.” Antonio waved him off. “Just a little too much to drink.”

I didn’t think members of the holy order told lies, but I was glad he did. Antonio was still on our side, no matter what his brothers might think. “Will you take her to my house? I think she must have been exposed to . . . something. She needs rest and tea. Tell Nonna she should give her some of the alkanet root she has.”

Antonio chewed on his bottom lip, looking doubtful about the likelihood of that folk remedy working, but didn’t argue. He offered his hand to her. “Will you come with me, Claudia? We’re going to go for a walk. It’ll help clear your head. Fresh air always does.”

She turned a troubled gaze on me, and I smiled. “He’s right. A walk will make you feel better. And so will some herbal tea and rest. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. But Domenico isn’t.” Claudia slipped her hand into Antonio’s, then cringed. “He said he’s not ready, and he will not move. Time is slipping like water through his hands. But still he waits. He waits and waits. He wants her to choose. He knows she will. Soon. Then he will take her heart, too. And her soul. He wants to kill again. The ultimate prize.”

“Domenico?” I asked, turning to Antonio when my friend retreated back into her own fractured world. “Was he here earlier?”

“I . . . I think so, but can’t remember for certain. He’s here most days. You don’t think . . .” He slid his attention to Claudia, who’d begun mumbling in that strange tongue again. Concern filled his expression. “You don’t think he hurt her, do you?”