The Book of Life Read online

  "Don't you look beautiful," I commented. Sarah was dressed to the nines in a deep green tailored suit and a luscious cream silk blouse that set off her red hair. She looked both glamorous and festive.

  "Agatha made it for me. She knows her stuff," Sarah said, turning around so we could admire her further. "Oh, before I forget: Ysabeau called. Matthew should ignore all the cars parked along the drive and come straight up to the door. They've saved a place for you in the courtyard."

  "Cars? Parked along the drive?" I looked at Matthew in shock.

  "Marcus thought it might be a good idea to have some of the knights present," he said smoothly.

  "Why?" My stomach somersaulted as my instincts warned me that all was not as it seemed.

  "In case the Congregation decides to take exception to the event," Matthew said. His eyes met mine, cool and tranquil as a summer sea.

  In spite of Ysabeau's warning, nothing could possibly have prepared me for the enthusiastic welcome we received. Marcus had transformed Sept-Tours into Camelot, with flags and banners twisting in the stiff December breeze, their bright colors standing out against both the snow and the dark local basalt. Atop the square keep, the de Clermont family's black-and-silver standard with the ouroboros on it had been topped by a large square flag bearing the great seal of the Knights of Lazarus. The two pieces of silk flapped on the same pole, extending the height of the already tall tower by nearly thirty feet.

  "Well, if the Congregation didn't know something was happening before, they do now," I said, looking at the spectacle.

  "There didn't seem much point in trying to be inconspicuous," Matthew said. "We shall start as we intend to go on. And that means we aren't going to hide the children from the truth--or the rest of the world."

  I nodded and took his hand in mine.

  When Matthew pulled in to the courtyard, it was filled with well-wishers. He carefully navigated the car among the throngs, occasionally stopping by an old friend who wanted to shake his hand and congratulate us on our good fortune. He slammed on the brakes hard, however, when he saw Chris Roberts standing with a large grin on his face and a silver tankard in his hand.

  "Hey!" Chris banged on the window with the tankard. "I want to see my goddaughter. Now."

  "Hello, Chris! I didn't realize you were coming," Sarah said, lowering the window and giving him a kiss.

  "I'm a knight. I have to be here." Chris's grin grew.

  "So I've been told," Sarah said. There had been other warmblooded members before Chris--Walter Raleigh and Henry Percy to name just two--but I had never thought to count my best friend among them.

  "Yep. I'm going to make my students call me Sir Christopher next semester," Chris said.

  "Better that than St. Christopher," said a piercing soprano voice. Miriam grinned, her hands on her hips. The pose showed off the T-shirt she was wearing under a demure navy blazer. It, too, was navy and had SCIENCE: RUINING EVERYTHING SINCE 1543 spelled out across the chest along with a unicorn, an Aristotelian depiction of the heavens, and the outline of God and Adam from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. A red bar sinister obliterated each image.

  "Hello, Miriam!" I waved.

  "Park the car so we can see the sprogs," she demanded.

  Matthew obliged, but when a crowd started to form, he said that the babies needed to be out of the cold and beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen, armed with a diaper bag and using Philip as a shield.

  "How many people are here?" I asked Fernando. We had passed dozens of parked cars.

  "At least a hundred," he replied. "I haven't stopped to count."

  Based on the feverish preparations in the kitchen, there were more than a few warmbloods in attendance. I saw a stuffed goose go into the oven and a pig come out of it, ready to be basted with wine and herbs. My mouth watered at the aromas.

  Shortly before eleven in the morning, the church bells in Saint-Lucien pealed. By that time Sarah and I had changed the twins into matching white gowns made of silk and lace and little caps sewn by Marthe and Victoire. They looked every inch sixteenth-century babies. We bundled them into blankets and made our way downstairs.

  It was then that the ceremonies took an unexpected turn. Sarah climbed into one of the family's ATVs with Ysabeau, and Marcus directed us to the Range Rover. Once we were strapped in, Marcus drove us not to the church but to the goddess's temple on the mountain.

  My eyes filled at the sight of the well-wishers gathered beneath the oak and cypress. Only some of the faces were familiar to me, but Matthew recognized far more. I spotted Sophie and Margaret, with Nathaniel by their side. Agatha Wilson was there, too, looking at me vaguely as though she recognized but wasn't able to place me. Amira and Hamish stood together, both looking slightly overwhelmed by all the ceremony. But it was the dozens of unfamiliar vampires present who surprised me most. Their stares were cold and curious, but not malicious.

  "What is this about?" I asked Matthew when he opened my door.

  "I thought we should divide the ceremony into two parts: a pagan naming ceremony here, and a Christian baptism at the church," he explained. "That way Emily could be a part of the babies' day."

  Matthew's thoughtfulness--and his efforts to remember Em--rendered me temporarily mute. I knew he was always hatching plans and conducting business while I slept. I hadn't imagined his nocturnal work included overseeing the arrangements for the christening.

  "Is it all right, mon coeur?" he asked, anxious at my silence. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

  "It's perfect," I said when I was able. "And it will mean so much to Sarah."

  The guests formed a circle around the ancient altar dedicated to the goddess. Sarah, Matthew, and I took our places within it. My aunt had anticipated that I wouldn't remember a single word of any baby-naming ritual that I had ever witnessed or taken part in, and she was prepared to officiate. The ceremony was a simple but important moment in a young witch's life, since it was a formal welcome into the community. But there was more to it than that, as Sarah knew.

  "Welcome, friends and family of Diana and Matthew," Sarah began, her cheeks pink with cold and excitement. "We are gathered here today to bestow upon their children the names that they will take with them as they go into the world. Among witches to call something by name is to recognize its power. By naming these children, we honor the goddess who entrusted them to our care and express gratitude for the gifts she has given them."

  Matthew and I had used a formula to come up with the babies' names--and I had vetoed the vampire tradition of five first names in favor of an elemental foursome. With a hyphenated last name, that seemed ample. Each of the babies' first names came from a grandparent. Their second name honored a de Clermont tradition of bestowing the names of archangels on Matthew and members of his family. We took their third name from yet another grandparent. For the fourth and final name, we selected someone who had been important to their conception and birth.

  No one knew the babies' full names until now--except for Matthew, Sarah, and me.

  Sarah directed Matthew to hold Rebecca up so that her face was turned to the sky.

  "Rebecca Arielle Emily Marthe," Sarah said, her voice ringing through the clearing, "we welcome you into the world and into our hearts. Go forth with the knowledge that all here will recognize you by this honorable name and hold your life sacred."

  Rebecca Arielle Emily Marthe, the trees and the wind whispered back. I was not the only one to hear it. Amira's eyes widened, and Margaret Wilson cooed and waved her arms in joy.

  Matthew lowered Rebecca, his expression full of love as he looked down on the daughter who resembled him so much. Rebecca reached up and touched his nose with her delicate finger in return, a gesture of connection that filled my heart to bursting.

  When it was my turn, I lifted Philip to the sky, offering him to the goddess and the elements of fire, air, earth, and water.

  "Philip Michael Addison Sorley," Sarah said, "we also welcome you into the world and into our hearts. Go fort
h knowing that all present will recognize you by this honorable name and hold your life sacred."

  The vampires exchanged glances when they heard Philip's last given name and searched the crowd for Gallowglass. We had chosen Addison because it was my father's middle name, but Sorley belonged to the absent Gael. I wished he had been able to hear it echo through the trees.

  "May Rebecca and Philip bear their names proudly, grow into their promise in the fullness of time, and trust that they will be cherished and protected by all those who have borne witness to the love their parents have for them. Blessed be," Sarah said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  It was impossible to find a dry eye in the clearing or to know who was the most moved by the ceremony. Even my normally vocal daughter was awed by the occasion and sucked pensively on her lower lip.

  From the clearing we decamped to the church. The vampires walked, beating everybody down the hill. The rest of us used a combination of ATVs and cars with four-wheel drive, which led to much self-congratulation on Matthew's part as to the wisdom of his automotive preferences.

  At the church the crowd of witnesses swelled to include people from the village, and, as on the day of our marriage, the priest was waiting for us at the door with the godparents.

  "Does every Catholic religious ceremony take place in the open air?" I asked, tucking Philip's blanket more firmly around him.

  "A fair few of them," Fernando replied. "It never made any sense to me, but I am an infidel, after all."

  "Shh," Marcus warned, eyeing the priest with concern. "Pere Antoine is admirably ecumenical and agreed to pass lightly over the usual exorcisms, but let's not push him. Now, does anyone know the words of the ceremony?"

  "I do," Jack said.

  "Me, too," Miriam said.

  "Good. Jack will take Philip, and Miriam will hold Rebecca. You two can do the talking. The rest of us will look attentive and nod when it seems appropriate," Marcus said, his bonhomie unwavering. He gave the priest a thumbs-up. "Nous sommes prets, Pere Antoine!"

  Matthew took my arm and steered me inside.

  "Are they going to be okay?" I whispered. The godparents included only one lonely Catholic, accompanied by a converso, a Baptist, two Presbyterians, one Anglican, three witches, a daemon, and three vampires of uncertain religious persuasion.

  "This is a house of prayer, and I beseeched God to watch over them," Matthew murmured as we took our places near the altar. "Hopefully, He is listening."

  But neither we--nor God--needed to worry. Jack and Miriam answered all the priest's questions about their faith and the state of the children's souls in perfect Latin. Philip chortled when the priest blew on his face to expel any evil spirits and objected strenuously when salt was put in his tiny mouth. Rebecca seemed more interested in Miriam's long curls, one of which was clenched in her fist.

  As for the rest of the godparents, they were a formidable group. Fernando, Marcus, Chris, Marthe, and Sarah (in place of Vivian Harrison, who could not be there) served with Miriam as godparents for Rebecca. Jack, along with Hamish, Phoebe, Sophie, Amira, and Ysabeau (who stood up for her absent grandson Gallowglass) promised to guide and care for Philip. Even for a nonbeliever such as myself, the ancient words spoken by the priest made me feel that these children were going to be looked after and cared for, no matter what might happen.

  The ceremony drew to a close, and Matthew visibly relaxed. Pere Antoine asked Matthew and me to come forward and take Rebecca and Philip from their godparents. When we faced the congregation for the first time, there was one spontaneous cheer, then another.

  "And there's an end to the covenant!" an unfamiliar vampire said in a loud voice. "About bloody time, too."

  "Hear, hear, Russell," several murmured in reply.

  The bells rang out overhead. My smile turned to laughter as we were caught up in the happiness of the moment.

  As usual, that was when everything started to go wrong.

  The south door opened, letting in a gust of cold air. A man stood silhouetted against the light. I squinted, trying to make out his features. Throughout the church, vampires seemed to vanish only to reappear in the nave, barring the new arrival from coming any farther inside.

  I drew closer to Matthew, holding Rebecca tight. The bells fell silent, though the air still reverberated with their final echoes.

  "Congratulations, sister." Baldwin's deep voice filled the space. "I've come to welcome your children into the de Clermont family."

  Matthew drew himself up to his full height. Without a backward look, he handed Philip to Jack and marched down the aisle to his brother.

  "Our children are not de Clermonts," Matthew said coldly. He reached into his jacket and thrust a folded document at Baldwin. "They belong to me."

  The creatures gathered for the christening let out a collective gasp. Ysabeau signaled to Pere Antoine, who quickly shepherded the villagers from the church. Then she and Fernando took up watchful positions on either side of Jack and me.

  "Surely you don't expect me to acknowledge a corrupt, diseased branch of this family and give it my blessing and respect?" Baldwin crumpled the document in his fist.

  Jack's eyes blackened at the insult.

  "Matthew entrusted Philip to you. You are responsible for your godson," Ysabeau reminded Jack. "Do not let Baldwin's words provoke you to ignore your sire's wishes."

  Jack drew a deep, shaky breath and nodded. Philip cooed for Jack's attention, and when he received it, he rewarded his godfather with a frown of concern. When Jack looked up again, his eyes were green and brown once again.

  "This hardly seems like friendly behavior to me, Uncle Baldwin," Marcus said calmly. "Let's wait and discuss family business after the feast."

  "No, Marcus. We'll discuss it now and get it over with," Matthew said, countermanding his son.

  In another time and place, Henry VIII's courtiers had delivered the news of his fifth wife's infidelity in church so that the king would think twice before killing the messenger. Matthew apparently believed it might keep Baldwin from killing him, too.

  When Matthew suddenly appeared behind his brother, having only a moment before been in front, I realized that his decision to remain here was actually intended to protect Baldwin. Matthew, like Henry, would not shed blood on holy ground.

  That did not mean, however, that Matthew was going to be entirely merciful. He had his brother in an unbreakable hold, with one long arm wrapped around Baldwin's neck so that Matthew was grasping his own bicep. His right hand drove into Baldwin's shoulder blade with enough force to snap it in two, his expression devoid of emotion and his eyes balanced evenly between gray and black.

  "And that is why you never let Matthew Clairmont come up behind you," one vampire murmured to another.

  "Soon it will hurt like hell, too," his friend replied. "Unless Baldwin blacks out first."

  Wordlessly I passed Rebecca to Miriam. My hands were itching with power, and I hid them in the pockets of my coat. The arrow's silver shaft felt heavy against my spine, and Corra was on high alert, her wings ready to spring open. After New Haven my familiar didn't trust Baldwin any more than I did.

  Baldwin almost succeeded in overcoming Matthew--or at least I thought he had. Before I could cry out in warning, it became evident that Baldwin's seeming advantage was only a clever trick by Matthew to lull him into changing his position. When he did, Matthew used Baldwin's own weight and a quick, bone-cracking kick to his brother's leg to drop him to his knees. Baldwin let out a strangled grunt.

  It was a vivid reminder that though Baldwin might be the bigger man, Matthew was the killer.

  "Now, sieur." Matthew's arm lifted slightly so that his brother hung by his chin, putting more pressure on his neck. "It would please me if you would reconsider my respectful request to establish a de Clermont scion."

  "Never," Baldwin gurgled out. His lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.

  "My wife tells me that the word 'never' is not to be used where the Bishop-C
lairmonts are concerned." Matthew's arm tightened, and Baldwin's eyes began to roll back into his head. "I'm not going to let you pass out, by the way, nor am I going to kill you. If you're unconscious or dead, you can't agree to my request. So if you're determined to keep saying no, you can look forward to many hours of this."

  "Let. Me. Go." Baldwin struggled to get each word out. Deliberately Matthew let him take a short, gasping breath. It was enough to keep the vampire going but not to permit him to recover.

  "Let me go, Baldwin. After all these years, I want to be something more than the de Clermont family's black sheep," Matthew murmured.

  "No," Baldwin said thickly.

  Matthew adjusted his arm so that his brother could get out more than a word or two at a time, though this still didn't remove the bluish cast from his lips. Matthew took the wise precaution of driving the heel of his shoe into his brother's ankle in case Baldwin planned on using the extra oxygen to fight back. Baldwin howled.

  "Take Rebecca and Philip back to Sept-Tours," I told Miriam, pushing up my sleeves. I didn't want them to see their father like this. Nor did I want them to see their mother use magic against a member of their family. The wind picked up around my feet, swirling the dust in the church into miniature tornadoes. The flames in the candelabrum danced, ready to do my bidding, and the water in the baptismal font began to bubble.

  "Release me and mine, Baldwin," Matthew said. "You don't want us anyway."

  "Might . . . need . . . you. My . . . killer . . . after . . . all," Baldwin replied.

  The church erupted into shocked exclamations and whispered exchanges as this de Clermont secret was openly mentioned, though I was sure that some present knew the role Matthew had played in the family.

  "Do your own dirty work for a change," Matthew said. "God knows you're as capable of murder as I am."

  "You. Different. Twins. Have blood rage. Too?" Baldwin bit out.

  The assembled guests fell silent.

  "Blood rage?" A vampire's voice cut through the quiet, his Irish accent slight but noticeable. "What is he talking about, Matthew?"

  The vampires in the church traded worried glances as the murmur of conversation resumed. Blood rage was clearly more than they had bargained for when they'd accepted Marcus's invitation. Fighting the Congregation and protecting vampire-witch children was one thing. A disease that might transform you into a bloodthirsty monster was quite another.