I couldn’t recall exactly what time she’d left Sea & Vine. That day had started off like any other—we’d gotten up, dressed, shared a morning meal, and went to work with our family to prep for the busy festival day.

I hadn’t even asked where she was going. I didn’t know she wouldn’t ever return.

Tears threatened, but I held them in. If I could go back in time, I’d do so many things differently. I shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes, and commanded myself to keep it together.

“It’s not easy for any of us, Emilia,” Nonna said. “Let this go. Let the goddesses take their vengeance in their own way. The First Witch won’t allow things to continue like this—trust that she has a plan for the Malvagi, and work on your protection charms. Your family needs you.”

“I can’t sit here while the person who killed her walks free. Please don’t ask me to trust in a witch I’ve never met, or in goddesses I’m not sure really exist. Vittoria deserves justice.”

Nonna cupped my face, her eyes watering. “You must put this to rest for your family. Nothing good will come from knocking on doors best left closed. Find forgiveness and acceptance in your heart, or darkness will seep in and destroy you.”

I excused myself and went back upstairs. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. I dropped onto my bed, haunted with memories of that cursed chamber where I’d found Vittoria.

I’d gone over it again and again in excruciating detail, trying to figure out what brought my sister there. I was missing something vital. Something that might help find Vittoria’s killer.

I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could, pretending I was standing in that room again with her body. I kept thinking about how she was dressed. I had no idea where she’d gotten the white gown. She wasn’t wearing it the last time I saw her. Which begged the question of what she’d been doing that afternoon. Was she secretly about to marry Domenico? Or had she planned something else?

Then there was the mystery of her missing cornicello. Nonna told us to never take off our amulets and apart from that one time when we were eight, we never did. Or at least I never did again. Maybe my sister had, but I couldn’t fathom why. We didn’t have to see or even fully believe in the Wicked to fear them. Nonna’s stories were terrifying enough. Vittoria joked about Nonna’s superstitions, but she was out digging up grave dirt, swiping vials of holy water, and blessing our amulets by the light of a full moon each month right along with me.