“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, his 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.