“For God’s sake, leave it alone.” Marcus threw his hands in the air. “You’re always meddling. Just like Philippe.”
“Enough, both of you.” Ysabeau was in the unenviable position of sitting between the two feuding vampires. I had warned her in advance that she had drawn the short straw and would be placed between Marcus and Baldwin, but neither protocol nor prudence would permit any other arrangement.
“Nunkle!” Philip cried out at the top of his lungs, feeling left out.
“You don’t have to shout to get my attention, Philip,” Baldwin said with a frown. He clearly held his nephew to a different standard than his niece, who had spent most of the afternoon making noise. “You shall have pigeon tomorrow, too. Or is hunting forbidden as well as wine, sister?”
The room held their breath at Baldwin’s challenge to me. Jack shifted in his chair, unable to bear the weight of the tension in the room. His eyes were inky and huge.
“Agatha. Tell them about your plans in Provence,” Sarah suggested, still holding Jack’s hand. She shot me a look across the table as if to say, I’m doing my best to save this party, but no guarantees.
“Jack!” Philip now tried to get Jack’s attention by blaring out his name like a klaxon.
“I’m okay, flittermouse,” Jack said, trying to soothe Philip’s agitation by using his pet name for him. “May I be excused, Mum?”
“Of course, Jack.” I wanted him as far away from this brewing storm as possible.
“You need to keep him better regulated, Matthew.” Baldwin cast a critical eye over at Jack as he stood to go.
“I will not have my grandson declawed,” Ysabeau hissed. For a moment, I thought she might strangle Baldwin—which was not a bad idea.
“Thirsty.” Philip’s voice was high, piercing, and very, very loud. “Help!”
“For God’s sake, can someone give him a drink!” Jack snarled. “I can’t bear to hear him beg for food.”
Marcus was not the only one struggling with his past. Jack was, too, his memories of starvation on the streets of London returning with Philip’s cries.
“Calm down, Jack.” Matthew had Jack by the collar in a blink.
But Jack was not the only creature to be distressed by Philip’s call for help. A tawny animal bounded in our direction wearing the frame from the potting shed window around its throat like a necklace.
“Oh, no.” Agatha tugged on Sarah’s sleeve. “Look.”
Apollo felt the tension that surrounded his small charge. He shrieked before launching himself at Philip so that he could protect him from harm.
Sarah flung a handful of seeds into the air, which rained down on the griffin, stopping him in his tracks. She then removed a long chain from around her neck. Hanging from it was a golden stone that nearly matched the color of Apollo’s fur and feathers.
Apollo shook his head in confusion, scenting the air with caraway. Sarah slipped the chain around his neck. The stone rested on the griffin’s breast. He quieted down straightaway.
“Amber,” Sarah explained. “It’s supposed to tame tigers. Caraway seeds keep my chickens from straying. I thought it was worth a try—and I thought Peace Water might leave spots on the table.”
“Good thinking, Sarah.” I was impressed by her creativity.
Baldwin, alas, was not.
“When did my nephew acquire a griffin?” Baldwin asked Matthew.
“Apollo came when my son uttered his first spell,” Matthew said, emphasizing his greater claim to Philip.
“So he takes after his mother.” Baldwin sighed. “I had hoped he would be more vampire than witch, like Rebecca. We can still hope, I suppose, that time will change him.”
Becca, who knew a good opportunity to make mischief when she saw it, took advantage of the distracted adults by reaching for Baldwin’s cup of blood.
“No,” Baldwin said, moving it out of her reach.
Becca pouted, her lower lip quivering. But tears would not dissuade her uncle.
“I said no, and I meant no,” Baldwin said, shaking his finger. “And you can blame your mother if you’re still hungry.”
Even at the best of times—which this was decidedly not—Becca was not interested in complicated assignments of responsibility and blame. As far as she was concerned, Baldwin had betrayed her trust and he deserved to be punished for it.
Becca’s eyes narrowed.
“Rebecca,” I warned, expecting a tantrum.
Instead, Becca lunged, embedding her sharp teeth in Baldwin’s finger.
The finger of her uncle. The man who was the head of her vampire clan. The creature who expected her complete obedience and respect.
Baldwin looked down at his niece, astonished. She responded with a growl.
“Still sorry Philip takes after his mother’s side of the family?” Sarah asked Baldwin sweetly.
* * *
—
“BECCA DIDN’T MEAN to do it,” I assured Baldwin.
“Oh, she most certainly did,” Ysabeau murmured, sounding impressed and a trifle envious.
We had withdrawn to the parlor. The children were asleep, both of them exhausted from the day’s excitement and the copious tears that had been shed in the wake of Rebecca’s behavior. The adults were drinking whatever they required in order to stabilize their nerves, be it blood, wine, bourbon, or coffee.
“There.” Sarah finished placing a superhero bandage over Baldwin’s already-healed wound. “I know you don’t need it, but it will help Becca connect actions with consequences when she sees it on you.”
“This is what I feared might happen when the two of you announced your wish to strike out on your own, Matthew,” Baldwin said. “Thank God I’m the first creature Rebecca bit.”
I looked away. And, just like that, Baldwin knew.
“I’m not the first.” Baldwin looked at Matthew. “Did the tests I ordered show blood rage?”
“Tests?” I stared at my husband. Surely he wouldn’t have tested the children’s blood for genetic anomalies—not without telling me.
“I don’t take orders from anyone when it comes to my children.” Matthew’s voice was cold, his face impassive. “They’re too young to be poked and prodded and labeled.”
“We need to know if she inherited your mother’s disease, Matthew, as you did,” Baldwin replied. “If she has, the consequences could be deadly. In the meantime, I want her kept away from Jack in case his symptoms make hers worse.”
I glanced at Ysabeau, who looked dangerously calm, and at Jack, who looked devastated.
“Is it my fault she’s behaving badly?” Jack asked.
“I’m not talking to you, Jack.” Baldwin turned to me. “Need I remind you of your promise, sister?”
“No. Brother.” I was trapped in a web of my own weaving. I had promised him that I would spellbind any member of our family whose blood rage threatened the well-being and reputation of the de Clermont clan. It had never occurred to me that I might be forced to do so to my own daughter.
“I want both Jack and Rebecca spellbound,” Baldwin announced, “until their behavior stabilizes.”
“She’s only a baby,” I said, numb with the implications this might have for her. “And Jack—”
“I forbid it.” Matthew’s voice was low, but there was no mistaking the warning in it.
“Not on my watch, Baldwin.” Marcus crossed his arms. “The Knights of Lazarus won’t allow it.”
“Here we go again.” Baldwin jumped to his feet. “The Knights of Lazarus are nothing—nothing—without the support of the de Clermont family.”
“Do you want to test that theory?” Marcus’s question was quietly challenging.
Doubt flickered in Baldwin’s eyes.
“You could, of course, say the same about the de Clermonts: They would be nothing without the brotherhood,” Marcus continued.
“You cannot raise a vampire without discipline and structure,” Baldwin said.
“The way we were raised won’t work for Rebecca or Philip.” Matthew, in the unlikely role of peacemaker, stood between his son and his brother. “It’s a different world now, Baldwin.”