“You had no choice.” His tone said no further discussion was required. “It was self-defense.”
“No it wasn’t. The witchfire . . .” It was only when he was in danger that the bow and arrow had appeared in my hands.
Matthew quieted me with a kiss. “We can talk about that tomorrow.”
There was something that couldn’t wait, something I wanted him to know now.
“I love you, Matthew.” There hadn’t been a chance to tell him before Satu snatched me away from Sept-Tours. This time I wanted to be sure it was said before something else happened.
“I love you, too.” He bent his head, his lips against my ear. “Remember our dinner in Oxford? You wanted to know how you would taste.”
I moved my head in acknowledgment.
“You taste of honey,” he murmured. “Honey—and hope.”
My lips curved, and then I slept.
But it was not restful slumber. I was caught between waking and sleeping, La Pierre and Madison, life and death. The ghostly old woman had warned me of the danger of standing at a crossroads. There were times that death seemed to be standing patiently at my side, waiting for me to choose the road I wanted to take.
I traveled countless miles that night, fleeing from place to place, never more than a step ahead of whoever was pursuing me—Gerbert, Satu, Juliette, Peter Knox. Whenever my journey brought me back to the Bishop house, Matthew was there. Sometimes Sarah was with him. Other times it was Marcus. Most often, though, Matthew was alone.
Deep in the night, someone started humming the tune we’d danced to a lifetime ago in Ysabeau’s grand salon. It wasn’t Marcus or Matthew—they were talking to each other—but I was too tired to figure out where the music was coming from.
“Where did she learn that old song?” Marcus asked.
“At home. Christ, even in sleep she’s trying to be brave.” Matthew’s voice was desolate. “Baldwin is right—I’m no good at strategy. I should have foreseen this.”
“Gerbert counted on your forgetting about Juliette. It had been so long. And he knew you’d be with Diana when she struck. He gloated about it on the phone.”
“Yes, he knows I’m arrogant enough to think she was safe with me at her side.”
“You’ve tried to protect her. But you can’t—no one could. She’s not the only one who needs to stop being brave.”
There was something Marcus didn’t know, something Matthew was forgetting. Snatches of half-remembered conversation came back to me. The music stopped to let me speak.
“I told you before,” I said, groping for Matthew in the dark and finding only a handful of soft wool that released the scent of cloves when crushed, “I can be brave enough for both of us.”
“Diana,” Matthew said urgently. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
His face was inches from mine. He was cradling my head with one hand, the other cool on my lower back, where a crescent moon swept from one side of my body to the other.
“There you are,” I murmured. “I’m afraid we’re lost.”
“No, my darling, we’re not lost. We’re at the Bishop house. And you don’t need to be brave. It’s my turn.”
“Will you be able to figure out which road we need to take?”
“I’ll find the way. Rest and let me take care of that.” Matthew’s eyes were very green.
I drifted off once more, racing to elude Gerbert and Juliette, who were hard at my heels. Toward dawn my sleep deepened, and when I awoke, it was morning. A quick check revealed that my body was naked and tucked tightly under layers of quilts, like a patient in a British intensive-care ward. Tubing disappeared into my right arm, a bandage encased my left elbow, and something was stuck to my neck. Matthew was sitting nearby with knees bent and his back against the sofa.
“Matthew? Is everyone all right?” There was cotton wool wrapped around my tongue, and I was still fiercely thirsty.
“Everyone’s fine.” Relief washed over his face as he reached for my hand and pressed his lips to my palm. Matthew’s eyes flickered to my wrist, where Juliette’s fingernails had left angry red crescent moons.
The sound of our voices brought the rest of the household into the room. First there were my aunts. Sarah was lost in her thoughts, dark hollows under her eyes. Em looked tired but relieved, stroking my hair and assuring me that everything was going to be all right. Marcus came next. He examined me and talked sternly about my need to rest. Finally Miriam ordered everyone else out of the room so she could change my bandages.
“How bad was it?” I asked when we were alone.
“If you mean Matthew, it was bad. The de Clermonts don’t handle loss—or the threat of it—very well. Ysabeau was worse when Philippe died. It’s a good thing you lived, and not just for my sake.” Miriam applied ointment to my wounds with a surprisingly delicate touch.
Her words conjured images of Matthew on a vengeful rampage. I closed my eyes to blot them out. “Tell me about Juliette.”
Miriam emitted a low hiss of warning. “Juliette Durand is not my tale to tell. Ask your husband.” She disconnected the IV and held out one of Sarah’s old flannel shirts. After I struggled with it for a few moments, she came to my aid. Her eyes fell on the marks on my back.
“The scars don’t bother me. They’re just signs that I’ve fought and survived.” I pulled the shirt over my shoulders self-consciously nonetheless.
“They don’t bother him either. Loving de Clermonts always leaves a mark. Nobody knows that better than Matthew.”
I buttoned up the shirt with shaking fingers, unwilling to meet her eyes. She handed over a pair of stretchy black leggings.
“Giving him your blood like that was unspeakably dangerous. He might not have been able to stop drinking.” A note of admiration had crept into her voice.
“Ysabeau told me the de Clermonts fight for those they love.”
“His mother will understand, but Matthew is another matter. He needs to get it out of his system—your blood, what happened last night, everything.”
Juliette.
The name hung unspoken in the air between us.
Miriam reconnected the IV and adjusted its flow. “Marcus will take him to Canada. It will be hours before Matthew finds someone he’s willing to feed on, but it can’t be helped.”
“Sarah and Em will be safe with both of them gone?”
“You bought us some time. The Congregation never imagined that Juliette would fail. Gerbert is as proud as Matthew, and nearly as infallible. It will take them a few days to regroup.” She froze, a guilty look on her face.
“I’d like to talk to Diana now,” Matthew said quietly from the door. He looked terrible. There was hunger in the sharpened angles of his face and the lavender smudges under his eyes.
He watched silently as Miriam walked around my makeshift bed. She shut the heavy coffin doors behind her, their catches clicking together. When he turned to me, his look was concerned.
Matthew’s need for blood was at war with his protective instincts.
“When are you leaving?” I asked, hoping to make my wishes clear.
“I’m not leaving.”
“You need to regain your strength. Next time the Congregation won’t send just one vampire or witch.” I wondered how many other creatures from Matthew’s past were likely to come calling at the Congregation’s behest, and I struggled to sit up.
“You are so experienced with war now,
ma lionne
, that you understand their strategies?” It was impossible to judge his feelings from his features, but his voice betrayed a hint of amusement.
“We’ve proved we can’t be beaten easily.”
“Easily? You almost died.” He sat next to me on the cushions.
“So did you.”
“You used magic to save me. I could smell it—lady’s mantle and ambergris.”
“It was nothing.” I didn’t want him know what I’d promised in exchange for his life.
“No lies.” Matthew grabbed my chin with his fingertips. “If you don’t want to tell me, say so. Your secrets are your own. But no lies.”
“If I do keep secrets, I won’t be the only one doing so in this family. Tell me about Juliette Durand.”
He let go of my chin and moved restlessly to the window. “You know that Gerbert introduced us. He kidnapped her from a Cairo brothel, brought her to the brink of death over and over again before transforming her into a vampire, and then shaped her into someone I would find appealing. I still don’t know if she was insane when Gerbert found her or if her mind broke after what he did to her.”
“Why?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice.
“She was meant to worm her way into my heart and then into my family’s affairs. Gerbert had always wanted to be included among the Knights of Lazarus, and my father refused him time and time again. Once Juliette had discovered the intricacies of the brotherhood and any other useful information about the de Clermonts, she was free to kill me. Gerbert trained her to be my assassin, as well as my lover.” Matthew picked at the window frame’s peeling paint. “When I first met her, she was better at hiding her illness. It took me a long time to see the signs. Baldwin and Ysabeau never trusted her, and Marcus detested her. But I—Gerbert taught her well. She reminded me of Louisa, and her emotional fragility seemed to explain her erratic behavior.”
He has always liked fragile things,
Ysabeau had warned me. Matthew hadn’t been just sexually attracted to Juliette. The feelings had gone deeper.
“You did love her.” I remembered Juliette’s strange kiss and shuddered.
“Once. Long ago. For all the wrong reasons,” Matthew continued. “I watched her—from a safe distance—and made sure she was cared for, since she was incapable of caring for herself. When World War I broke out, she disappeared, and I assumed she’d been killed. I never imagined she was alive somewhere.”
“And all the time you were watching her, she was watching you, too.” Juliette’s attentive eyes had taken in my every movement. She must have observed Matthew with a similar keenness.
“If I’d known, she would never have been allowed to get near you.” He stared out into the pale morning light. “But there’s something else we have to discuss. You must promise me
never
to use your magic to save me. I have no wish to live longer than I’m meant to. Life and death are powerful forces. Ysabeau interfered with them on my behalf once. You aren’t to do it again. And no asking Miriam—or anyone else—to make you a vampire.” His voice was startling in its coldness, and he crossed the room to my side with quick, long strides. “No one—not even I—will transform you into something you’re not.”
“You’ll have to promise me something in return.”
His eyes narrowed with displeasure. “What’s that?”
“Don’t ever ask me to leave you when you’re in danger,” I said fiercely. “I won’t do it.”
Matthew calculated what would be required of him to keep his promise while keeping me out of harm’s way. I was just as busy figuring out which of my dimly understood powers needed mastering so that I could protect him without incinerating him or drowning myself. We eyed each other warily for a few moments. Finally I touched his cheek.
“Go hunting with Marcus. We’ll be fine for a few hours.” His color was all wrong. I wasn’t the only one who had lost a lot of blood.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I have my aunts, not to mention Miriam. She told me at the Bodleian that her teeth are as sharp as yours. I believe her.” I was more knowledgeable now about vampire teeth.
“We’ll be home by dark,” he said reluctantly, brushing his fingers across my cheekbone. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
“I’d like to talk to Ysabeau.” Sarah had been distant that morning, and I wanted to hear a maternal voice.
“Of course,” he said, hiding his surprise by reaching into his pocket for his phone. Someone had taken the time to retrieve it from the bushes. He dialed Sept-Tours with a single push of his finger.
“
Maman?
” A torrent of French erupted from the phone. “She’s fine,” Matthew interrupted, his voice soothing. “Diana wants—she’s asked—to speak to you.”
There was silence, followed by a single crisp word. “
Oui.
”
Matthew handed me the phone.
“Ysabeau?” My voice cracked, and my eyes filled with sudden tears.
“I am here, Diana.” Ysabeau sounded as musical as ever.
“I almost lost him.”
“You should have obeyed him and gone as far away from Juliette as you could.” Ysabeau’s tone was sharp before turning soft once more. “But I am glad you did not.”
I cried in earnest then. Matthew stroked the hair back from my forehead, tucking my typically wayward strand behind my ear, before leaving me to my conversation.
To Ysabeau I was able to express my grief and confess my failure to kill Juliette at my first opportunity. I told her everything—about Juliette’s startling appearance and her strange kiss, my terror when Matthew began to feed, about what it was like to begin to die only to return abruptly to life. Matthew’s mother understood, as I’d known she would. The only time Ysabeau interrupted was during the part of my story that involved the maiden and the crone.
“So the goddess saved my son,” she murmured. “She has a sense of justice, as well as humor. But that is too long a tale for today. When you are next at Sept-Tours, I will tell you.”
Her mention of the château caused another sharp pang of homesickness. “I wish I were there. I’m not sure anyone in Madison can teach me all that I need to know.”
“Then we must find a different teacher. Somewhere there is a creature who can help.”
Ysabeau issued a series of firm instructions about obeying Matthew, taking care of him, taking care of myself, and returning to the château as soon as possible. I agreed to all of them with uncharacteristic alacrity and got off the phone.
A few tactful moments later, Matthew opened the door and stepped inside.
“Thank you,” I said, sniffing and holding up his phone.
He shook his head. “Keep it. Call Marcus or Ysabeau at any time. They’re numbers two and three on speed dial. You need a new phone, as well as a watch. Yours doesn’t even hold a charge.” Matthew settled me gently against the cushions and kissed my forehead. “Miriam’s working in the dining room, but she’ll hear the slightest sound.”