“You’re elapsing in the documents room today,” announced Mr. George, going ahead of us for once. We hadn’t set eyes on Falk and the other Guardians yet. Presumably they were sitting in the Dragon Hall, renewing the oaths they had sworn when they joined the Lodge, or drinking toasts to the Golden Rules, or doing whatever it was that Guardians did when they got together.

Only Mrs. Jenkins hurried past with a thick folder—working on a Sunday for once!—and waved to us.

“Mr. George, what are today’s instructions?” asked Gideon. “Any details that we should bear in mind?”

“Well, for Count Saint-Germain, exactly the same amount of time has passed since the ball as for you—that’s two days,” said Mr. George at once. “However, we ourselves are a little puzzled by the instructions in his letter. According to what it says, Gwyneth will spend three and a half hours with him, while your visit is to last only fifteen minutes, Gideon. But we are assuming that there’s some other task he wants you to perform, because he expressly said that you were neither of you to elapse earlier today.” He stopped for a moment and looked out of the tall window at Temple Church. There was a good view of it from here. “We didn’t know quite what to make of certain hints in the letter, but … obviously the count feels sure that the Circle of Blood is about to be closed. He wrote that we were all to hold ourselves in readiness.”

“Uh-oh,” said Xemerius.

Uh-oh, I thought, glancing quickly at Gideon. It sounded very much as if, although Operation Sapphire and Black Tourmaline had been really intended for yesterday, the count had expected it to fail. And as if he’d had another plan up his sleeve all along.

Possibly a more brilliant plan than ours.

My nail-biting uneasiness turned into outright fear. The idea of being alone with the count brought my arms out in goose bumps. As if Gideon could read my thoughts, he stopped and held me tight, paying no attention to Mr. George.

“It will be all right,” he whispered into my ear. “Don’t forget, he can’t do anything to hurt you. And so long as he doesn’t know that, you’re safe.”

I clung to him like one of those capuchin monkeys on his coat.

Mr. George cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to see that you two have made up your differences,” he said. A mischievous smile flitted over his face. “All the same, we must get moving.”

* * *

I JUST HAD TIME to hear Xemerius shouting, “Mind you look after her, bonehead!” and then I was in the year 1782. The first thing I saw when I landed was Rakoczy’s face only twelve inches or so away from me. I let out a small shriek and swerved aside. Rakoczy himself jumped in alarm.

I heard a laugh, and although it sounded pleasant and melodious, all the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “I told you to step aside, Miro.”

While Gideon landed beside me, I slowly turned around. There was Count Saint-Germain in a plain, dark gray velvet coat and, as always, in a white wig. He was leaning on his cane, and for a moment, he looked frail and old—in fact, ancient.

But then he straightened up, and in the candlelight, I saw his lips twist into a mocking smile. “Welcome, my dears. I’m glad to see that you’re in good health—and that Alastair’s gloating account of Gwyneth’s death must, I suppose, have been only the fantasy of a dying man.” He came a step closer, looking expectantly at me, and it was a second before it struck me that he was probably waiting for a curtsey. So I sank into one. By the time I straightened up again, the count had turned his attention to Gideon.

“We have no time to waste on formalities today. Have you a message for me from your Grand Master?” he asked, and Gideon handed him the sealed letter Mr. George had given us.

As the count broke the seal and read it, I looked briefly around the room. There were a desk, and several chairs, some of them upholstered. The open shelves around the room were full of books, scrolls, and stacks of paper, and a painting hung over the mantelpiece, just as it did in the documents room in our time. But this one wasn’t the portrait of Count Saint-Germain. It was an attractive still life showing books, parchments, a quill pen, and an inkwell. Rakoczy, unasked, had dropped into a chair, and now he put his boots up on the desk. He held his drawn sword loosely in his hand, like a toy that he couldn’t bear to part with. His weird, lifeless eyes passed over me, and he curled his lips contemptuously. If he remembered our last meeting at all, he obviously had no intention of apologizing for his behavior.

The count had finished reading the letter. He looked penetratingly at me, and then nodded. “Ruby red, with G major, the magic of the raven, brings the Circle of Twelve home into safe haven. How did you escape Lord Alastair’s ruthless sword? Did he just imagine it all?”

“He did wound Gwyneth,” said Gideon, and I was surprised to hear how calm and friendly his voice sounded. “But it was only a harmless scratch—she was really lucky.”

“I am sorry that you both found yourselves in such a situation,” said the count. “I had promised you that no one would harm you, and as a rule I keep my promises. But my friend Rakoczy here was also a little forgetful of his duties that evening, weren’t you, Miro? Causing me to note, yet again, that one can sometimes rely too much on other people. If the enchanting Lady Lavinia had not come to me, my First Secretary might have recovered from his faint and run for it … and Lord Alastair would have bled to death all by himself.”

“It was the enchanting Lady Lavinia who gave us away in the first place,” I said tartly. “She—”

The count raised one hand. “I know all that, child. Alcott had plenty of opportunity to confess his sins.”

Rakoczy let out a hoarse laugh.

“And Alastair had a great deal to tell us, too, even if he became a little indistinct toward the end, am I not right, Miro?” The count smiled unpleasantly. “But we can discuss all that later. We are short of time today.” He picked up the letter. “Now that Gwyneth’s true origin is explained, it ought not to be difficult to persuade her parents to donate a little of their blood to us. I hope you have followed all my instructions to the letter?”

Gideon nodded. His face was pale and tense, and he avoided looking at me. But so far everything was going as we’d foreseen. Roughly speaking, anyway. “Operation Black Tourmaline and Sapphire takes place today,” he said. “If the clock on the wall there is telling the right time, then in a few minutes, I’ll be traveling back to the year 2011. And everything is prepared there for me to go and visit Lucy and Paul.”

“Exactly,” said the count, pleased. He took an envelope from his coat pocket and gave it to Gideon. “My outline of my plan is in here. I don’t want any of my Guardians in the future even to think of interfering with your movements.”

He went over to the mantelpiece and looked thoughtfully into the fire on the hearth for a moment. His eyes were bright and sparkling above his aquiline nose, and suddenly the whole room seemed to be full of his commanding presence. He raised his arms. “This very day all the prophesies will be fulfilled. This very day a remedy for all sickness and disease, a miracle such as has never been known before, will be granted to mankind,” he cried. He paused briefly, looking at us as if expecting applause. I thought for a split second of forcing out an admiring “Wow, that’s great!” but I didn’t think too highly of my acting abilities right now. Gideon, too, just looked at him in silence. And Rakoczy actually had the nerve to let out a small belch at this solemn moment.

The count clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Well,” he added slowly, “I assume that tells you everything.” He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was all I could do not to shake it off the way I’d shaken off Tarantula. “Meanwhile, my lovely child, you and I will pass the time agreeably together, will we not?” he said unctuously. “I am sure you will understand that you must keep me company here for a little longer than young Gideon.” I nodded and wondered whether the count wasn’t beginning to revise his idea of women. If he supposed I understood all that, then I couldn’t be as dim as he normally assumed, could I? However, he was already going on in his high-handed way. “After all, our young friend Gideon must make Black Tourmaline and his Sapphire believe that their daughter will die if they don’t give him some of their blood there and then.” He laughed quietly and turned to Gideon. “You can dress it up a little if you like, tell them about Rakoczy’s taste for the blood of virgins and the old Transylvanian custom of tearing hearts out of living bodies. But I’m sure that won’t be necessary. If I know that foolish young couple, they’ll give you their blood at once.”

Rakoczy let out a bark of laughter, and the count joined in. “People are so easily manipulated, don’t you agree?”

“But about Gwyneth—surely you’re not really going to…,” Gideon began, and his gaze flickered slightly. He still wasn’t looking at me.

The count smiled. “Come now, what on earth are you thinking of, my dear boy? No one will hurt a hair of her head. She is only my hostage for a while. I mean until you have traveled back from the year 1912 with the blood, taking it straight to the year 2011.” He raised his voice. “And these sacred halls will tremble when the brotherhood gathers and the time comes when the Circle of Blood in the chronograph can be closed.” He sighed. “Ah, how I wish I could be present at that magical moment. You must tell me all about it in detail.”

Oh, yes, I bet. Blah blah blah. I realized that I was instinctively gritting my teeth. My jaws hurt already. Meanwhile the count had gone over to Gideon and was standing so close to him that the ends of their noses almost touched. Gideon didn’t bat an eyelash. The count raised his forefinger. “Then the elixir will be found under the sign of the twelvefold star, and it will be your task to bring it to me without delay.” He took hold of both Gideon’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Without delay.”

Gideon nodded. “I’m only wondering why you want the elixir brought back to this year,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be even more use to mankind in the twenty-first century, our own time?”

“A clever and philosophical question,” replied the count, smiling, and he let go of Gideon. “I am glad that you ask it. But this is not the time for such conversations. I will be happy to tell you all about my complex plans when your task is finished. Until then, you must simply trust me!”

I almost laughed out loud. Only almost. I tried to catch Gideon’s eye, but although I was sure he noticed, he kept looking past me. At the clock, with its hands moving inexorably on.

“There’s one other thing: Lucy and Paul have a chronograph of their own at their disposal,” said Gideon. “They could try to visit you here, today or maybe earlier … and prevent all of this, including the handing over of the elixir.”

“Ah, now, surely by this time you understand enough of the laws of continuity to know that, so far, they have not succeeded in sabotaging my plans, or we would not be here together, would we?” The count smiled. “And I have, of course, taken special precautions for the next few hours, until the elixir is in my hands. Rakoczy and his men will kill any unauthorized person who ventures near us.”