Bone magic when used improperly can be part of the forbidden arts. Using the bones of animals—claws, nails, fangs, shells, and feathers—allows a witch to connect with the underworld. They must be gathered ethically, not sacrificed, as is popularly thought by humans. To harness their power, create a bone circle and include herbs and objects of intent.

—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

I stood inside the lip of the cave, listening as the sea smashed into the rocks below, angry and insistent.

Salty spray raged up over the cliff, prickling the exposed skin on my arms and neck. Maybe the water was mirroring my mood. Or maybe it sensed the darkness of the rolled parchment tucked beneath my arm. I certainly could.

Witches were connected to the earth and channeled its powers into their own. I wouldn’t be surprised if the sea was wary of what was coming—the dark power I was about to unleash upon our realm. The sea might be worried, but I was not. I had to wait hours for Nonna to finally fall asleep in her rocking chair before I collected my supplies and snuck out. Any lingering sense of worry was eclipsed by cold determination to carry out my plan.

I had no idea how Vittoria came across these grimoire pages—it was another mystery to add to an expanding list—but I’d use them to my advantage. A strong gust of wind forced me deeper into the cavern. I’d not been entirely sure where I was going when I left the house, but felt drawn here. Vittoria used to find reasons for us to venture up to this cave as often as she could when we were children. It was almost as if she were here, guiding me now.

The night air was balmy, but chills trailed sharp claws along my flesh.

I held up my lantern, trying not to cringe away from the shadows dancing around the light. Summoning a demon—in a dank cave where my screams couldn’t be heard if something went wrong—wasn’t exactly how I would’ve envisioned my life three weeks ago.

Back then I would’ve happily spent my nights creating new recipes for Sea & Vine. I would have read a steamy romance, and wished a certain fratello would forsake his oath to God for one night and worship me instead. That was before I found my sister’s desecrated body.

My current wishes centered on two things: finding out who murdered my twin, and why.

Well, three wishes if you counted my dream of gutting the bastard who killed Vittoria. That was more than a wish, though. That was a promise.