The door creaked open, and Benedetto slipped inside. His eyes flicked to Marcello, silently asking for permission. A curt nod was all the affirmation he needed before he gestured for the witches to enter.

Three women stepped through. Marcello recognized one years ago, when his father had fallen gravely ill, she had been the one to cure him with her potions. He remembered her skill. He remembered her results. He had high hopes now.

“My Lord,” they murmured in unison, bowing ...