“What? No clerical robes yet?” she asked, still teasing.
“I think I can follow my calling wearing my usual getup,” he replied.
“What about your crossbow and sword?” Ingrid asked. “They’re hardly reverend-like.”
Vander patted the side of his long tweed coat. “They are blessed, remember.”
Ingrid resisted the urge to laugh and flirt. Vander had always made it so easy for her. But that was over now, and Vander, seeming to sense her unease, took a step away.
“How are things going with Constantine?” she asked.
Her teacher had started taking in Dusters at Clos du Vie—both the original seedlings and the Dusters they had created when under Axia’s spell. People like Chelle.
“We’ve got a regular laboratory going on over there,” he answered.
He and Constantine, through correspondence with Hugh, were learning how to proliferate Vander’s mersian blood. The draining machinery Nolan and Vander had been working on had been moved from H?tel Bastian to Clos du Vie, and with Hugh’s aid, it wouldn’t be much longer until it was in full working order. For now, those who could safely take injections were receiving them, and those whose blood would clot when matched with Vander’s, like Chelle, were learning to adapt to their new powers.
“So you’re an ordained scientist,” Ingrid said.
“I wouldn’t want to be too conventional,” he replied, and then, before she could respond, turned to face her. “Can we talk? Outside?”
Ingrid took a last glance into the crowd. She couldn’t find her mother, but she did see Marco staring at her from beside a marble sculpture of a well-endowed Greek god. How fitting, she thought, as she turned and led Vander outside through the transept door.
The late April night was cool, a rain having just fallen. She smelled the spring-rich air as they walked toward the courtyard fountain, burbling for the first time since Ingrid had come to Paris.
The silence between them had started to grow awkward, when Vander finally spoke. And so like him, he swiftly cut to the heart of things.
“If a life with him is what you want, if it will make you happy, then I’ll never say another word about it.”
He wasn’t roiling mad, as he’d been in her room the time he’d found her with Luc. He didn’t corner her or rail at her the way he had then, teetering on the verge of losing control. He was just determined now.
“You know …” Vander gathered a breath. “You know that I love you.”
Ingrid had been crying for weeks, and not just over losing Grayson. She was exhausted, though, and she didn’t want to cry any more.
“And I love you,” she whispered. “But I can’t have you both.”
Vander stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “And right now you choose him.”
Right now. Right now and forever. “So long as he exists.”
He nodded again, though to himself, as if conducting his own conversation in his mind. “Luc saved my life. I don’t think he would have done that if you didn’t love me.” Vander met her eyes, which were rebelling against her will and filling with tears again. “That says something about him.”
Vander leaned forward and kissed Ingrid on her forehead, his hands still in his pockets, unable to touch her. He then turned and walked away, toward the hedgerow. He didn’t look back.
Ingrid stared after him. Being hurt was one thing. Doing the hurting was another. She didn’t know which one felt worse.
The grass squeaked under someone’s approaching feet.
“Griddy?” her sister called, using the awful nickname that she had graciously abandoned lately.
She must have seen Vander disappear through the hedgerow gap. She touched Ingrid’s arm. “He understands. He’s hurt, but he understands. He’s a reverend, for goodness’ sake.”
Ingrid smiled and quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. The black lace glove scratched at the tender skin. She turned toward Gabby and was pleased once more to notice that her sister had not pinned on one of her veiled hats. She was still reluctant about holding her head high and meeting a stranger’s gaze, but she was determined, and Ingrid was proud of her.
“Do you think the pain will ever go away?” Ingrid asked after a moment.
She trusted her sister would know that she was speaking not of Vander, but of Grayson. Gabby did.
“No,” she answered. “But if we feel the pain together, we can share it. We have each other, Ingrid. And we have people who love us.”
When had her little sister become so wise? Ingrid held out her hand. Gabby took it.
“Would you understand if I said I had somewhere to go right now?” Ingrid asked.
Gabby squeezed her fingers. “I’ve covered for you before. I believe I could do it again.” She smiled and Ingrid tugged her into an embrace.
“You’ll crease my dress!” Gabby complained, laughing and swatting her away. “I’ll fetch Marco.”
They had a proper driver now, and Marco had been relegated to strict butler duties once more. But for this particular outing, only a gargoyle would suit.