“It’s dark. Dark and musty, and death is lurking. It’s gotten a taste and craves more.” Claudia blinked rapidly, suddenly seeming more like herself. “Is he still here?”

“No,” Antonio said, “Domenico’s gone.”

“But don’t worry.” I helped her to her feet. “I’ll find him.” I faced Antonio. “Do you know where he lives?” He shook his head. Of course things wouldn’t be easy; they never were. “I’ll check their arancini stand just in case they’re working late.”

“Alone?” Antonio’s mouth pressed into a tight line of worry. Brown hair fell across his brow. He looked so young and inexperienced compared to Wrath. “If he did something . . . maybe we should go together.”

I mustered up what I hoped was a reassuring smile. While I’d love to have him with me when I confronted Domenico, there were questions I needed to ask that he couldn’t be privy to. And not just because he was human. I wouldn’t be able to mention the dark arts, or toss around accusations of cavorting with demon princes in front of a member of the holy brotherhood.

“I’ll be all right. I don’t believe Domenico did anything sinister,” I lied. “He might know if she ingested any strange food or drink. Who knows? Maybe there was some mold, or other toxin present for one of her desiccations. Or maybe she had a bad bottle of wine. Valentina’s death is probably to blame if she drank too much. Murder isn’t easy to accept.”

That seemed to mollify Antonio. It was perfectly logical. And humans loved logic, especially when it explained away the unexplainable. “She did complain of the bay leaves being rotten earlier. I believe she burned them in the preparation room.”

“See?” I smiled. “I’m sure that’s all it is. She inhaled mold, or something equally bad. This will pass with some fresh air and sleep, you’ll see.”

With a polite nod good-bye, he escorted Claudia out of the courtyard. I waited until they were safely down the street and far away from the lingering brotherhood before I left, too. I tried not to think about the searing accusation burning in Brother Carmine’s gaze as I hurried away.

Since I still didn’t know where Domenico’s family lived, and I was fairly confident their arancini stall had long since closed for the night, confronting him would have to wait until morning.

I knew where to find Claudia’s aunt Carolina, though. And she and I were going to exchange some words. I understood how grief warped a person into doing things they’d normally never do—I’d prayed to the goddess of death and fury and had summoned a demon—but asking someone else to do that when she could have done it on her own . . . I hoped to reign my temper in before I saw Carolina.