Chapters (58)
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Imprint Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Map
- Contents
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Endmatter page 1
After a few minutes of wandering down side roads that spiderwebbed away from the cathedral, I stopped in front of a door with a crowned frog burned onto it. I’d done it!
And now I felt a little queasy. I dropped my amulet, and considered my next move. I could turn back, go to Sea & Vine, and forget this nightmare. Leave princes of Hell to someone better equipped with dealing with them. Or I could try to be a little more like Vittoria.
I pulled the gambling chip out from my bodice and held it against the door, praying I wasn’t following a little too closely in my sister’s footsteps.
Eighteen
Eighteen
For spells of courage, anoint a red candle with the following items during a waxing moon and burn until flame extinguishes: one part cayenne pepper, one part clove, twice-blessed oil, and a heaping tablespoon of crushed charcoal.
—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire
The door swung open, and I traveled down a creaking set of stairs before entering a subterranean lair. Based on the grimy dead-end entrance, I thought the inside of Greed’s den of sin would be dark and derelict. Which was only partly the case. The overcrowded room was indeed dark—brick walls, a gleaming ebony bar that spanned the length of the room, and several velvet-topped tables in deep burgundy dotted the tiled floor.
Each table featured different card games. One colorful round of scopa drew the most attention. Men and women gathered, their gazes fixed on what they hoped was their winning hand. I had a feeling the only true winner was the demon prince in residence.
The gambling den oozed with the promise of riches. Desire for wealth and power was so potent, it almost took physical form. I pictured it reaching for my throat, squeezing until I drew breath in greedy drabs. My attention darted from one sinful tableau to the next.
Greed in its many forms made an appearance. There was greed for power, wealth, attention—excess was the poison of choice here, and patrons couldn’t seem to get their fill. I wondered if they knew what time it was, that the sun had just risen and beckoned to them to step outside, to live. Some were haggard, tired, as if they’d been up for days, addicted to whatever their chosen form of greed was. There was also an edge of violence lurking in the atmosphere, like a simple want or desire could twist into something deadly at any moment. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone knifing their competition, and taking what they wanted by force.