Especially when they made him spitting mad. Nonna told us the Malvagi couldn’t stand sunlight, so I planned to be back before nightfall just in case my spell hadn’t worked, or he’d somehow broken it.

Nonna set her rolling pin aside and handed the platter of flattened chicken to my mother to drench in flour. She watched me slice more mushrooms as she uncorked a bottle of marsala and splashed it into a hot pan, and I pretended not to notice.

“Distractions in the kitchen lead to accidents, Emilia.” She wiped her hands and tossed the towel over her shoulder. “Do you need to sit down?”

I glanced up, pausing my assault on the mushrooms. “I’m fine, Nonna. Just tired.”

And more than a little anxious about the last twenty-four hours. It was hard to grasp the fact that the monsters from my childhood stories were real. They didn’t have red eyes, or claw-tipped fingers, or horns. The creatures from Hell were elegant, regal, well mannered. It upended my idea of how evil was supposed to present itself to the world. Wrath was supposed to be fang-toothed and drooling, not a shirtless wonder any artist would dream of painting.

“Nicoletta, do you have some advice for your daughter?”

Nonna turned to my mother for help, but Mamma was lost in her own sadness today. She placed a piece of chicken in a bowl of flour seasoned with salt and pepper, shook it free, then dropped it into a waiting skillet. Butter crackled and spit, pleased with the offering.

My mother took another piece of chicken and repeated the motion. All body memory, no conscious thought. I quickly looked away.

Nonna grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet her unflinching gaze. “Whatever trouble you’ve been seeking ends tonight, Emilia. The moon is almost full and it’s no time to be playing with forces you have no hope of controlling. Capisce?”

“I haven’t been searching for trouble, Nonna.” I’d only summoned it to me. “Everything is fine. I’m fine, I promise.”

Nonna released my face and walked away, shaking her head. “Nothing is fine, child. Hasn’t been for a month and I imagine it won’t be for many more to come. Vittoria is gone. Nothing will ever bring her back. It’s harsh, but it’s true. You need to accept it and grieve. Let go of your vengeance, or it will curse us all.”

“You want how much for this shirt?” I scowled at Salvatore, the thief parading as a vendor. I shook the offending garment at him. “We are both speaking about this one, right? The one that’s practically threadbare in the elbows?”

“It’s a fair price.” He held up his hands and slowly backed behind his table of goods. “Carolina is selling hers for a good bit more. See?”