I gathered what little bravado I could muster and forced myself to turn around, scanning the corridor of silent, watchful mummies for my sister. I was already scared about the Malvagi and my mind was playing tricks on me. I’d stopped walking, but the sound of cloth brushing against stone continued a good breath or so before falling silent, too. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement and froze. One torch was lit at each end of the long corridor, leaving much of my path in shadow. The last thing I needed was to get stuck running home in the rain. It smelled of turned earth and salt-like a storm was blowing in. I did my best to forget those morbid stories now.Ī window was cracked open high above, allowing a gusty breeze to barrel through the corridor. I’d squirm my toes in the warm sand, trying to banish goose bumps, but Vittoria would lean forward, a hungry gleam in her eyes, ravenous for every morsel of information Claudia served us. On rare afternoons when we all weren’t working and could walk along the beach, picking shells for Moon Blessings, Claudia shared stories of how the mummies came to be. I was torn on the subject, but it didn’t matter in the end the brotherhood chose our friend Claudia for that task. Nonna didn’t approve of her fascination with the dead, and thought it might lead to an obsession with le arti oscure. When we were younger, Vittoria wanted to wash and prepare the bodies of the deceased. It was the quickest way to the room where I’d left my basket, and I cursed the brotherhood for the creepy layout. I tried not to notice their empty, lifeless stares as I hurried along.

Kingdom of the wicked kerri maniscalco