And whatever it was, it clearly terrified her. My friend looked ready to jump out of her skin. I reached over and gripped her hand in mine. “What is it?”

“I don’t know . . . I saw black wings and an empty pitcher being filled and emptied. It was all very strange. I think some terrible darkness is coming,” she said. “Or it’s already here.”

Goose bumps rose across my body in waves. I swallowed my shame. I had no doubt Claudia had seen me summoning Wrath. Dragging a prince of Hell from the underworld was a huge feat—I couldn’t imagine the kind of magical tremors it must have set off. I’d disrupted the natural order of this world. I brought forth that which didn’t belong. It was the darkest sort of magic, and I wasn’t surprised a dark witch sensed it.

“Maybe it’s just the way your mind is explaining away Vittoria’s . . .”

“You’re probably right,” she agreed quickly. “Domenico is a mess, too. He visits the monastery at least twice a week to pray.”

I was happy we’d steered the conversation away from the Great Big Evil I’d invited into our world, though thinking of my sister laying in the monastery brought on its own awful feelings. I tried not to focus on Claudia’s tear-stained face. The last thing I wanted was to start crying and show up red-eyed and splotchy when I confronted Wrath. I wanted to project fearlessness and ferocity, not a sobbing, snotty mess.

It was the only thought that kept me from breaking down. Well, that and hearing my sister’s secret lover had been praying so often. With my grief and then the desire to unlock her diary, I’d forgotten all about him. “I didn’t know they were publicly . . .”

I wasn’t sure what to call it. Not a courtship, because Domenico hadn’t spoken to my father and Vittoria certainly hadn’t mentioned him. If I hadn’t seen his name scrawled in her diary, we wouldn’t know she liked him at all. That thought ached, so I shoved it deep down where it couldn’t hurt me, with the other unpleasant feelings I’d been storing lately.

“What else has Domenico said?”

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t talked to me about anything. He mostly locks himself in one of the empty chambers, and lights prayer candles until after midnight. I think he’s there now, actually. He always looks so sad.”

I wanted to speak with him and knew I should, but didn’t feel ready to just yet. I reasoned it might be cruel to show up, looking like the mirror image of his murdered lover. The truth was, I wasn’t ready to confront one of my sister’s secrets without my heart breaking the rest of the way.