Page 69 of Devoted

“I’ve been told my priests attempted to wake me,” she murmured, her full attention fixed on Vincenzo, who curled down tighter. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t just kill me and be done with it.” Her red lips curved up. “Oh wait… you can’t. You’re too weak.”

“There was some… resistance to our leaving the last time we were here. We may have caused considerable damage on our way out,” Gabriel explained, diplomatically glossing over the fact Dante had very nearly burned her temple down. “If there are reparations to be made…”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Now tell me about Blackwood. How… entrenched is he in Giovanni’s mad plans?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no Giovanni anymore,” Dante rasped. “Blackwood has become our main concern. He’s moved his personal guard into La Sala, and they…” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“They what?”

“They possess a disturbing form of dark magic. Something none of us have ever seen before.”

Emilia was nodding. She’d pulled out the pendant again, toying with it absently. “Black magic runs in that bloodline. There is a particular ritual you undergo to serve in his guard, and once you endure the transformation, you become his.”

Staring straight at Nico, she pressed the oddly shaped pendant to her lips, and I finally got a good enough look at the thing to realize what it was.

A white key.

Carved from bone.

The very key I’d stolen for her out of my father’s safe as a token of thanks. A key rumored to open the door to the Underworld. Why was that around her neck?

“Did you see him for yourself?” she asked, the sudden question directed at Nico. “Was he there?”

“Blackwood was there all right. He trapped us inside the circle, and we almost didn’t get away.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t look especially shocked by this information, more like… curious. “But you managed to escape?”

“Clearly we did, since we’re standing in front of you,” I interrupted. I had no wish to delve into Nico’s and Blackwood’s connection in front of Emilia. Gods knew what she’d do with that information.

“We’re here because we have questions only you can answer. Questions about the…” I glanced to her sons, hoping they couldn’t hear a thing. “The Basin. About whether or not the relic can be destroyed.”

She stared at me with ancient eyes, something burning in their depths I couldn’t decipher.

“That conversation will require food and drink.” Emilia pressed her lips to the key, disappeared it beneath her bodice, then rose to her feet in one graceful movement.

“Come with me, and I will tell you a story only a select few know.”

25

EMBERLINE

After an elaborate breakfast and three pots of coffee served by a host of her silent, black-robed priests in a sumptuous dining room draped in dark red velvet, we still didn’t know any more than when we’d arrived.

I shouldn’t have been shocked.

After all, Emilia was the mistress of secrets, and drama was kind of her thing.

Still, we needed answers. Gods knew we’d risked enough to get them.

“Well…” With a clap of her hands, the priests scattered. “Let’s discuss your uncle and his penchant for…”

“We need to know if we can destroy the Basin, Emilia.” I fidgeted in my high-backed chair, muscles stiff from sitting for so long. “If there is the slightest chance Blackwood could get his hands on that artifact… We won’t be safe until the Basin is gone.”

“Fine.” She sighed dramatically, but she didn’t outright refuse, which had my hopes rising, until she opened her mouth again.

“So find yourself a witch and destroy the thing.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. Honestly, why did she make everything so godsdamned difficult?