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  “And his possessions, too,” Sonia said. “Perhaps Phoebe could help him reclaim some of what he’s lost. Baldwin told Daniel she is quite good.”

  Normally the prospect of dealing in fine art would have had her complete attention, but Phoebe could think only of feeding.

  “I’ll give Christophe a call. It would give Phoebe something to do until her ninety days are up,” Miriam said, as though Phoebe were not there.

  “Poor thing. It’s a long time to wait. Daniel was shocked that you were being so traditional. It’s not like Marcus to take the old-fashioned route.” Sonia laughed.

  Phoebe’s skin prickled and her hackles rose. What right did Sonia have to second-guess their plans?

  “It was Phoebe’s decision,” Miriam said. “Ysabeau had a lot to do with it, of course.”

  “Still at Sept-Tours?” Sonia tried to sound casual, but there was no disguising the curiosity in her tone.

  “Yes, she is. Not that it’s any business of yours,” Phoebe said as she licked the blood from her lips, making sure to get the drop that was pooled in the corner. She bit her thumb and swiped it across Sonia’s arm to help the teeth marks heal.

  “I meant no offense,” Sonia said mildly.

  “Sonia’s a warmblood, Phoebe, not a vampire,” Miriam reminded her. “And your guest. The usual rules about personal information don’t apply.”

  “And Ysabeau is my mate’s grandmother.” Phoebe’s veins were thundering with fresh blood, and she felt a bit tipsy. She eyed the champagne bottle. It was nearly empty.

  “She’s loyal, I see, as well as polite.” Sonia rolled her sleeve down. “She said thank you before she took a bite. And she was able to stop herself from feeding. I’m impressed.”

  Phoebe stood and poured the last of the wine into the waiting glass. Once again, she had passed some kind of test. She felt that a drink was in order.

  After that, Phoebe sincerely hoped there would be an offer of dessert.

  * * *

  —

  TWO BOTTLES OF CHAMPAGNE LATER, Miriam put Sonia in a cab. There had been dessert, thanks to Sonia’s generosity and due in no small part to the excellence of Freyja’s wine cellar.

  Freyja returned home shortly after Sonia left. She cast an eye over her upholstery, saw Persephone was purring by the fire, and let out a sigh of relief.

  “It all went according to plan,” Miriam assured her, looking over the lid of her laptop.

  “Just as we thought.” Freyja smiled. “And the other matter?”

  “What other matter?” Phoebe said, still glowing from drinking blood laced with champagne.

  “Must there really be five names, Freyja?” Miriam wondered. “It seems a bit excessive.”

  “It is common among de Clermonts,” Freyja said, “not to mention useful. We are a long-lived family, and it saves trouble later. This way there is no last-minute legal scramble if property needs to change hands.”

  “I’ve already picked four,” Phoebe said, scrambling in her pocket for the slip of paper. She had anticipated that this all-important matter of names would be sprung on her without warning. “Phoebe Alice Catherine Taylor. What do you think?”

  “Alice?” Miriam frowned. “But that’s German! What about Yara?”

  “Taylor?” Freyja looked shocked. “I don’t think that’s appropriate, Phoebe dearest. People will think you are in trade. I’ve been wondering if Maren would suit you. I had a great friend named Maren, and you remind me of her.”

  “I like Taylor,” Phoebe said.

  Freyja and Miriam took no notice of her, and continued to argue for the relative merits of Illi and Gudrum and Agnete.

  “As a matter of fact, I like all of my names. So does Baldwin,” Phoebe said, raising her voice slightly.

  “Baldwin?” Miriam’s eyes narrowed.

  “I wrote him last week,” Phoebe said.

  “But it’s not up to Baldwin,” Miriam said, her voice purring in her throat. “You’re my daughter. Naming you is my job.”

  Wisely, Phoebe kept silent. A few moments passed. Miriam sighed.

  “The de Clermont family will be the death of me one day,” she said. “Keep your names, then. And add Najima.”

  “Phoebe Alice Najima Catherine Taylor de Clermont.” Freyja considered the string of names. “That’s settled, then.”

  Phoebe pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

  She had won her first battle against her maker.

  Now she just had to tell Baldwin, in case Miriam suspected she was lying and called to check up on her story. Phoebe felt sure Baldwin would cover for her.

  “And how was your twenty-first day as a vampire?” Freyja asked. It had become part of the household ritual—and part of her education—for Phoebe to share how she had gotten on that day.

  “Perfect,” Phoebe said, finally able to smile openly without showing her maker any sign of disrespect. “Absolutely perfect.”

  20

  As the Twig Is Bent

  5 JUNE

  It was ten days before Matthew’s rebirthday, and we were in the library reviewing the arrangements for this summer’s party. Although I’d promised him there would be no large event like last year, I couldn’t let the day go without some kind of celebration. We had finally settled on having a small family affair—just Sarah and Agatha, Marcus, Ysabeau, Marthe and Alain and Victoire, and Jack and Fernando, in addition to me and the children.

  “That’s nine other people,” Matthew said with a scowl, looking at the guest list. “You promised it was going to be small.”

  “Ten, if you include Baldwin.”

  Matthew groaned.

  “I couldn’t very well leave him out,” I said.

  “Fine,” Matthew said hastily, wanting to stem any additional invitations. “When are they all coming?”

  Just then a towheaded young man with long, gangly legs and wide shoulders walked in.

  “Hi, Mum,” he said. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Jack!” I said, surprised. “We didn’t expect you so soon!”

  Jack was, in many ways, our first child. Matthew and I had taken him into our household in Elizabethan London, hoping to give him a life that was not filled with terror, homelessness, and hunger. When we left in 1591, I had put him in the care of Andrew Hubbard, who ruled over London’s vampires—then and now. We had not expected to see Jack again, but he had chosen to become a vampire rather than succumb to the plague.

  “Something wrong, Jack?” Matthew’s expression registered unease as he picked up on unspoken signals of distress coming from Jack.

  “I’m in trouble,” Jack confessed.

  The last time Jack had been “in trouble,” he ended up in the newspapers as the mysterious “vampire murderer” who drained his victims of blood before abandoning their corpses.

  “Nobody’s dead,” Jack said hastily, guessing the direction of my thoughts. “I was feeding—on Suki, Dad, not some stranger. I took too much blood too quickly and she ended up in hospital. Father Hubbard told me to come straight here.”

  Suki was the young woman the family employed to watch over Jack in London and provide him with sustenance when he could no longer make do with animals and bagged human blood. Vampires needed to hunt, and there were humans who were happy to oblige them—for a fee. It was a dangerous business, and one that I thought the Congregation should be regulating. My proposals on the subject had been met with resistance, however.

  “Where is Suki now?” Matthew’s mouth was grim.

  “Home. Her sister is with her. Father Hubbard said he’ll check on her twice a day.” Jack looked and sounded miserable.

  “Oh, Jack.” I wanted to give him a hug and comfort him, but the tension in the air between Matthew and our son made me reconsider wading into something I didn’t fully understand.

  “S
uki is your responsibility,” Matthew said. “You shouldn’t have left her in that state.”

  “Father Hubbard said—”

  “I’m not really interested in what Andrew said,” Matthew interrupted. “You know the rules. If you can’t put Suki’s well-being before your own, your relationship will have to end.”

  “I know, Dad. But I wasn’t—I’m still not—I don’t even know what happened. One minute I was fine, and then . . .” Jack trailed off. “When I left her with Father Hubbard, I thought I was looking after her.”

  “There are no second chances, Jack. Not with blood rage.” Matthew looked regretful. “I’ll settle things with Suki. You won’t have to see her again.”

  “Suki didn’t do anything wrong and neither did I!” Jack’s eyes got darker and his tone more defensive in response to Matthew’s disapproval. “This isn’t fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” Matthew said quietly. “But it is our obligation as vampires to do what we can to take care of creatures who are weaker than we are.”

  “What will happen to her now?” Jack asked, miserable.

  “Suki will never want for anything. Marcus and the Knights of Lazarus will see to that,” Matthew assured him.

  This was the first time I’d heard that some of the brotherhood’s accounts covered payments to humans for services rendered. It was undeniably creepy, but it certainly explained why there weren’t even more sensational stories out there about vampires feeding off warmbloods.

  “Let’s get you something to eat,” Matthew said, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “And you’ll want to meet the newest addition to the family.”

  “You got Mum a dog?” Jack brightened. He loved his four-legged Komondor companion and was a firm believer that there was no such thing as too many dogs.

  “No. The goddess gave Philip a griffin,” Matthew said. “It seems he’s a weaver like his mother.”

  Jack didn’t bat an eye at this announcement, but gamely followed Matthew into the kitchen. After he’d had something to drink and we’d caught up on Jack’s less alarming news, we went in search of Agatha, Sarah, and the twins. They had been playing outside in a brightly colored tent that Agatha made by draping old sheets over some chairs. The four of them were huddled inside, playing with every knight, horse, and stuffed animal that could be found.

  Apollo was also there, keeping a beady eye on the rest of the menagerie and occasionally reproaching one of its members for an imaginary infraction with a sharp peck.

  Once everybody was free of the tent (which collapsed in the excitement of Jack’s arrival), the hellos were exchanged, and the children were cuddled and kissed to their satisfaction, Jack crouched down by the griffin.

  “Hello, Apollo.” Jack stuck out his hand in greeting. Apollo immediately placed his talon on top of it.

  Apollo’s long tongue came out, and he touched it to Jack’s hair, his ear, his nose, and his cheek as if he was getting to know the newest member of the pack. He began to cluck, bobbing his head up and down in approval.

  “Jack!” Becca held up her stuffed parrot. “See. Bird. Mine.”

  “Nice, Becca. I’ll come play with her in a minute.” Jack narrowly avoided getting a griffin tongue up one nostril. “Can he fly?”

  “Oh, yes,” Sarah said. “Ysabeau carried Apollo around like a hawk and trained him to catch mice in midair.”

  Jack laughed.

  Becca, who felt Apollo was getting her fair share of attention, flung her parrot at Jack. It hit him in the shoulder and he reared back in surprise. She snarled, her lip curling.

  “Rebecca Arielle,” Matthew said, voice firm. He swooped down and picked her up. “We’ve talked about this. No throwing.”

  Becca opened her tiny mouth. I thought she was about to yell. Instead, she lowered it toward her father’s hand with the quickness of a striking snake. She bit down. Hard.

  The silence that followed was absolute as we all stared at father and daughter in astonishment.

  Matthew was white as paper and his eyes were black.

  The bite had set Matthew’s blood rage alight.

  “And definitely no biting.” Matthew stared down at his daughter with an intensity that caused Becca to raise her blue eyes to his. As soon as she saw the expression on her father’s face, she opened her jaws and released him. “Diana, please take Philip and Apollo back to the house.”

  “But—” I began. One wild, desperate look from Matthew had me swinging Philip into my arms. I headed toward the house without a backward glance.

  After a moment, Matthew sent the rest of the family away.

  “What’s Matthew going to do?” Sarah asked, joining me and Philip in the kitchen.

  “Dad’s shunning her,” Jack said, sounding unhappy.

  “Do I smell blood?” Marcus asked, entering the kitchen with Marthe.

  “Becca bit Matthew,” I replied.

  Through the thick, wavy glass, I saw Matthew say something to Becca. He then deliberately turned his back on his daughter.

  “Wow,” Jack said. “That’s harsh.”

  “When an older, more powerful vampire turns his back on you, it’s both an insult and a rejection—a sign that you’ve done something wrong,” Marcus explained. “We don’t like to be at odds with the leader of the pack.”

  “That’s an awfully subtle message for a toddler to grasp,” Sarah said.

  The expression on Becca’s face suggested that she understood it perfectly, however. She looked devastated.

  “Milady Rebecca must apologize,” Marthe said. “Then sieur will forgive her and all will be well again.” She gave me a comforting pat.

  “Becca isn’t good with apologies,” I fretted. “This could take awhile.”

  “Sorry,” Philip said, his eyes filling with tears. Our son, on the other hand, apologized all the time—even for things he hadn’t done.

  “Thank God,” Marcus reported, sounding relieved. “She apologized.”

  Matthew picked Becca up and kissed her on the top of her head. Then he carried her into the kitchen.

  Becca’s expression was worried as she faced her family again for the first time. She knew she had done something terribly wrong, and wasn’t sure of her reception.

  “Hello, princess,” Jack said, giving her a wide smile.

  “’Lo, Jack,” Becca said, her anxiety evaporating.

  Feeling unsure of what to do in the midst of all these vampires and their unspoken rules, I stood with Philip and waited until the rest of the group had welcomed Becca back into the fold. Philip squirmed to be put down and ran off in the direction of the pantry with Apollo, no doubt in search of congratulatory Cheerios for his sister.

  Finally, Matthew put Becca in my arms. I kissed her and held her tight.

  “Brave girl,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment in silent thanks that this episode was over.

  When I opened them again, Matthew was gone.

  * * *

  —

  MATTHEW WAS RUNNING THROUGH THE forest beyond the moat as if the hounds of hell were pursuing him. I located him with the help of Rakasa, who was almost as fast as he was, and a magical tracking device I’d been working on to help watch the children. I called it a dragon-eye because the central, shining black orb reminded me of Corra, and the shimmering wings that shot out from each side resembled those of a dragonfly. It was a useful bit of magic, inspired by the drawings in a copy of Ulisse Aldrovandi’s Historia Monstrorum I’d found among Philippe’s books.

  I caught up with Matthew only when he stopped to draw breath under a wide oak on the other side of the wood that marked the point where four fields came together. Once it had provided shade for the plow horses and estate farmers when they took their midday break. Today, it was providing a different kind of protection.

  Matthew’s fingers gripped the rough bark, h
is lungs working harder than normal. I slid down from Rakasa and tied up her reins.

  “Are you and Rebecca all right?” Matthew’s voice rasped in his throat. Even in this state, his first concern was for the creatures he loved.

  “We’re fine,” I said.

  Matthew put his back to the tree and slid down it, eyes closed. He buried his head in his hands.

  “Even warmblooded children bite when they’re frustrated, Matthew,” I said, trying to comfort him. “She will grow out of it.”

  “A vampire won’t see it that way. A bite is an act of aggression. Our every instinct is to bite back—to fight back. If Rebecca bites the wrong vampire, and they react as their genetics tells them to do, they could kill her in an instant, crush her tiny bones to powder.” Matthew’s eyes were still dark with blood rage, even though physical exertion usually brought him temporary relief from its symptoms. “It took all of my self-control not to react. Would another vampire exercise the same restraint, if he were in my place? Would Gerbert?”

  “She’s just a child—” I protested.

  “This is why making children into vampires is forbidden,” Matthew replied. “Their behavior is unpredictable, and they don’t have sufficient self-control. Newly reborn vampires exhibit some of the same tendencies, but at least they have adult bodies that can survive punishment.”

  A horse and rider approached. It was Marcus. I had never seen him on horseback before, and he rode with the same practiced assurance as the rest of the family. In Marcus’s case, he hadn’t even bothered with a saddle and bridle. He’d simply thrown one leg over the animal’s back and left the rope attached to the horse’s halter.

  “Just checking to make sure you’re both okay,” Marcus called to us, trotting closer. “Jack was worried, so I told him I’d make sure you’d found each other.”

  I was worried, too. Matthew’s blood rage wasn’t abating as quickly as it normally did.

  “You handled that better than most vampires would have,” Marcus commented.