“Sorry, pal.” Rowan patted my back as she climbed up onto the wide stone windowsill. “It’ll be over soon. Just don’t look down.”

I swallowed hard, wishing that I were descending a fiery staircase into hell. Anything was better than heights.

Quick as a monkey, Rowan climbed out the window and began to ascend the rope, climbing up the inside of the well shaft. Every ten feet or so, she could use a windowsill as a footrest, but even that didn’t make me feel better.

“Go first,” Lachlan said. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“I don’t want to take you out, too.”

“Ha, as if I can’t hold you.”

“Thanks.” I pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, determined not to fall and test the theory. Just because I hated heights didn’t mean I couldn’t conquer them.

I sucked in a deep breath and climbed onto the stone windowsill. With a trembling hand, I grabbed the rope and began to climb, propping my feet on the wall and pulling myself up with my arms.

Every second counted while I was out here in the open. Anyone could peer over the edge from above and see me down here. Hand over hand, I went as fast as I could. But my palms were sweating like mad.

Fear iced in my veins.

Muffin appeared at my side, fluttering in midair, his wings going wild to keep him aloft. You got this!

“You my cheerleader?” I asked, trying to give my movement some extra speed to keep my mind off the fear.

Top cheerleader. Top of the pyramid!

A laugh escaped me as I climbed. I should’ve told him to go away—he might draw attention—but who was I kidding? I would draw attention if someone looked down.

Up up up! As he said it, his weight dragged him down, his little wings flagging. He found a perch on one of the windowsills and kept shouting encouragement, most of which involved promises of tuna.

“That doesn’t work on me, you know.”

Weirdo.

Almost there. Almost. A few moments later, I scrambled onto the windowsill where Bree crouched, holding on to the rope.

“Damn, you’re strong,” I said. Then I frowned. “Hey, why did we climb all the way up? Why not just a few windows to get beyond the door?”

“There was a room full of guards partway up. I didn’t want to go back past them. Climbing seemed safer, until you started talking to Muffin.”

“Oops, sorry.”

Who wouldn’t want to talk to me? He preened, licking his paw.

A second later, Lachlan climbed onto the windowsill.

“All accounted for. Let’s move.” I gestured to Bree. “Want to lead? Did you learn anything while finding that rope?”

“A couple places to avoid, yeah. And maybe a plan for getting into the cathedral that Ali and Haris mentioned.”

“Perfect. Lead on.” I followed Bree up the stairs to the main level of the city.

Further research into Orvieto had shown that the cathedral was the oldest thing in town—particularly the crypts at the bottom. There might even be some stuff down there from the time of the Fates. Since Christianity had often absorbed some of the local pagan cultures in order to convince people to convert, there was a reasonable chance that we’d learn something about the Fates down there.

At the top of the stairs, there was a small atrium that led out into the main city square. The well sat right in the middle of town, surrounded on four sides by buildings and shops, the most magnificent of which was the cathedral.

“Wow,” I breathed. The cathedral was incredible, with marble and stonework that would rival anything in Rome.

“They sure know how to do their churches here in Italy,” Rowan muttered.

“That’s the truth,” Lachlan said.

Bree pointed to a narrow alley at the side of the cathedral. “There. I think we can stage our entry from that alley.”

The bells at the top of the church tolled, and light gleamed from inside, making the stained glass glow like jewels. There were clearly people in there.

“How will we get in?” I asked. “We won’t exactly blend like this.”

“I saw some washing on the lines,” Bree said. “We go in disguise. I could use my invisibility when we’re in the church, but we don’t know where we’re going or what we’re looking for. We could lose each other that way.” Her head tilted, as if she were listening to something with her super hearing. Her face paled. “Go! To the alley. Someone is coming up the stairs. I’ll hide us.”

Her words jumpstarted us. When her magic flared and my friends disappeared, I stepped out of the atrium and strode across the city square, hurrying toward the alley that she’d pointed to.

My skin pricked with awareness as I crossed the great open space. There were a few people around, mostly sitting in front of cafes or walking somewhere. They were all dressed in similar dark, drab clothing. Definitely not modern. This place seemed trapped in time. None of them looked toward us as we walked, and I prayed that we didn’t cross anyone with a superior sense of smell.

Finally, I ducked into the alley and concealed myself in a nook in the wall. My shoulder pressed against someone else. Lachlan, from the leather and pine scent of him.

A few moments later, we all appeared, huddled in the same stone alcove.

“Whew, that was close,” Bree said.

Rowan pointed to a little walled-in backyard that was across the alley. A washing line was strung across the space, and drab black clothes fluttered in the breeze. “Are those our disguises?”

“I think so,” Bree said.

Lachlan dug into his pocket. “I’ll leave them some money to cover the cost.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks.”

He nodded.

Quickly, we snuck into the little backyard and took clothes off the line. Lachlan stuck a few bills in a crease between the door and jamb, then grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt.

We snuck back into the alley and tugged on our stolen finds. They were so big and loose that they went right on over my own clothes. My dress looked like something a nun would wear. Oh, fates. Please say we didn’t steal from nuns.

“Well, we will certainly blend.” Rowan spun in a circle, staring down at herself. “We look just like the people we saw in the square.”

“It’s perfect.” We all looked like something out of medieval times, and it was awful.

“Let’s go,” Lachlan said.

“You lead the way,” I said. “This place is old-school. It’ll look more normal if a dude leads.”

“Freaking patriarchy,” Bree muttered.

“Ain’t that the truth.” I shook my head. “But it’ll help our disguise.”

“I’m all for that,” she said.

“Once we’re inside, we’ll look for the crypts,” I said. “That’ll be the oldest part of the church, so it’s most likely to lead to info about the Fates.”

Everyone agreed, and we followed Lachlan out of the alley and up the enormous stairs to the church. An organ played from within, the loud noise rolling over the stairs and making my hair stand on end.

“Eerie choice of song,” Rowan muttered.

She was right. It didn’t sound like a hymn at all.

Lachlan stepped up to the enormous wooden door that was carved with dozens of figures and flowers. He pulled it open, and we stepped through into an enormous space that was literally covered in gold leaves and fancy paintings. Every inch of it was covered. The whole ceiling was done up in fabulous style.

“Who needs the Sistine Chapel?” I asked, awe streaking through me. I’d never been in a place quite this fancy before.

A church service was going on at the front of the cathedral, which was over a hundred yards away, given the enormous size of this place. It was a small one, an evening session with only a couple dozen people.

Lachlan led the way to the right side of the church, where statues lined the wall and alcoves dotted the length of it. I searched for any sign of a door that would lead down to the crypts.

“Heads up,” Rowan whispered.

I looked up, catching sight of a priest walking our way. His robes flapped around his legs and his eyes looked solemn, but intense.

Crap.

“I’ll take care of this,” Lachlan said. “Stay here. Look boring.”

My heart thundered as he strode toward the priest, confidence in his gait. I studied the painting on the wall, not seeing the details but pretending to be interested in it. I could hear a low murmur of Italian from Lachlan and the priest but had no idea what they were saying.

“Holy fates, this is tense,” Bree said.

“Not like we can attack some priest and fight our way in,” Rowan said. “We’re freaking stuck.”

My mind raced with ideas for a way around this, but they were right. We couldn’t attack these people and fight our way in. Demons were the only fair game here, and those who were obviously on the side of the Fates. This old priest clearly wasn’t that.

Finally—finally—Lachlan walked back to us. The priest had turned and gone back to the front of the church.

“Well?” I searched his face for clues.

“I convinced him we’re here to visit an old saint in the crypts.”

“You told him where we’re going?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Seemed the easiest way to ease his suspicions. He told me where it was, by the way.”

“How did you know which saint to say was buried there?” I asked.

“I just hinted. He filled in the rest, and I jumped on it.”

“Good work.” It wasn’t what I’d have done, but it had gotten us in, so I’d take it.

“This way.” He led us to the far back corner of the church, where the wood was darker and the candles dimmer. There was a heavy stone arch around a little wooden door. At the top, it read 323 AD.

“Didn’t Florian say that that was around the time when Italy was shifting from worshiping the old Roman gods to Christianity?” Bree asked.

“I think so.” I pushed open the little wooden door and stepped inside. The air was cool and dark, and the stairs narrow. My footsteps were silent on the worn stone as I descended. The scent of old, stale air permeated the space, and I breathed shallowly through my nose.

Eventually, it became so dark that I had to ignite my lightstone ring. The warm glow illuminated the space but didn’t make it any less creepy. At one point, a spider the size of my palm stared right at me from the ceiling.

“Hey, buddy,” I said. “Just passing through.”

The spider ignored us, and I continued down to the crypt. The floor was rough old stone, and the ceiling so low it nearly touched Lachlan’s head. A few torches burned in the alcoves off the main space, which looked to be the size of a football field. Hundreds of arched vaults supported the church above, filling the crypt. Dozens of sarcophagi lined the walls, the massive stone coffins looking older than dirt.

“This place is huge,” Bree muttered.

“And creepy,” Rowan added.

“Let’s spread out,” I said. “But don’t lose sight of each other.”

“What are we looking for again, exactly?” Rowan asked.

“No idea. Something that looks like the Fates. Or Roman. They’d have been here before Christianity, and when the church came, it would have absorbed them to help convince the local population.”

We split up, staying within sight, and began to search the crypt. Upon closer inspection, the simple space was actually filled with carvings and decorations. The sarcophagi themselves were fantastic works of art, though many were so worn down with time that the intricate carvings were hard to see.

Little doors led to tiny rooms filled with more stone coffins, but I found nothing within them.

“I think I’ve found something,” Lachlan said.

I went to join him in an alcove. As I walked, I realized that the stones beneath my feet were more worn than the ones around me. More people had been walking this way. That was a good sign.

“What is it?” I asked, joining him and my sisters.

“I think it’s the Fates.” He pointed to a carving above a small door. Three women were depicted there, each wearing a flowing robe. The carvings were so old that all the details had been worn down. Beneath the three women, there was an inscription that looked like a cross with a circle around it. I didn’t know what that was, but the women were obviously the Fates.

I grinned. “I think you’re right.”

The door was ancient, the lock sturdy black iron.

Rowan tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Locked.”

“I got this.” Bree pulled her lock picks out of her pocket and knelt by the door. Within a minute, the lock clicked. She gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

We entered a small room built entirely of stone. A single statue stood against the wall across from us, a man dressed in two different types of clothing. His left side was nearly naked, draped only in a little scrap of cloth that covered his waist. In his left hand, he held a clutch of grapes. It was a very Roman statue. His right side was dressed in an elaborate robe, and he held a staff. That side was much more modern, relatively speaking.

Beneath him, the words St. Bacchus were carved in the base of the statue.

Suddenly, I understood. “Ah, he’s one of the Roman gods who was made into a saint to help convince people to convert.”

“Nothing like the god of wine to help ease the way in a big decision,” Rowan said.

In front of him, a massive stone basin was set into the ground. The thing was at least six feet across and stained a dark reddish brown in the bottom.

“What is that?” Bree asked.

Lachlan knelt and studied the stains in the basin. “I think it’s blood.”

“Blood and wine are linked in Christianity,” Rowan said. “So I buy it.”

There was nothing else in the room except for the basin and the statue, but I inspected the walls anyway, looking for a trapdoor. When I came up with nothing, I turned back to my friends, who were busy doing the same thing I had been.

“Anyone find anything?” I asked.

There was a chorus of nos.

I frowned at the basin. “Is St. Bacchus the welcoming party?”

“He unites the modern church with the ancient Roman religion, so aye, I think so,” Lachlan said.

“Which makes this a sacrificial altar.” Rowan knelt and touched a bloodstain. “Twenty bucks we each have to offer a drop.”

I grimaced but nodded. “I think you’re right.”

She drew a dagger from the ether and pierced her thumb, then let a drop of blood fall into the stone basin. We each followed suit with our own weapons. Pain stabbed my thumb as I pricked it, then squeezed the blood into the basin.

It landed with a splash. As soon as Bree, the last to offer, made her contribution, magic swelled in the air.

My heart thundered as the stone basin began to twist in the ground, revealing a spiral staircase that led even farther underground.

“Points to Rowan.” Bree grinned.

Dark magic wafted up from the staircase, smelling of dust and feeling like spiders crawling over my skin. I shivered. “Yeah, they’re down there. That’s some super dark magic, and I bet it comes from them.”

Lachlan went first, then my sisters followed him down the spiral stairs. I went last, giving St. Bacchus one last look. He seemed to shift slightly. I blinked, but the motion never repeated.

Had he really moved?

I shook my head. Maybe. But I couldn’t deal with that now. I went down the stairs, this time going deeper than ever. The space that we entered was far larger than the crypts above, though it was just as dreary and dark. It was filled with altars covered in sacrifices—gold and jewels and weapons and cloth. There were spaces for people to worship, stone designs in the ground that invited gatherings.

“It’s a cult,” Lachlan said.

“Makes sense.” I nodded. “They want power from somewhere, and these people help give it to them by believing in them.”

“But where are the people?” Bree asked.

“That could be a problem.” I didn’t want to run into them unexpectedly, that was for sure.

“They haven’t been gone long,” Rowan said. “Can’t you feel the energy in the air?”

She was right. The crypts had felt dead and unused. But this place—it felt alive. Like it was frequently used and very active.

“I think this whole town may be involved,” I said. “To fill this place up with sacrifices would take a ton of people. They’d have to go through the church above, and surely the priests would notice. They noticed us.”

A chill raced over my skin, and from the looks of my sisters’ faces, they’d realized the same thing. So had Lachlan.

“The priest may not have bought my story,” he said.

“No, maybe not.” There could be people after us even now if he’d alerted some kind of guard to our presence. “But it got us in here, and that’s what matters. Let’s find what we need before they find us.”

My heart thundered with the newfound knowledge that we now had a deadline hanging over our heads.

“We need to find them fast,” Bree said.

But which way should we go? The space was massive, and so much of it looked identical. But there was a pull of dark magic from the far right corner. I pointed to it. “Let’s go that way. It feels different.”

“It feels like the Fates,” Rowan said. “When they grabbed me back at our mother’s village in Otherworld, their magic felt like that.” She shuddered. “Awful. Like tiny stab wounds and slime.”

I winced. Yeah, that sounded awful.

We hurried past multiple altars and circular meeting places, finding a massive hallway at the back that was carved right into the earth. It wasn’t nicely built like the rest of the space. Instead, it was just hollowed-out earth, looking like it led into the depths of hell.