Jack was, in many ways, our first child. Matthew and I had taken him into our household in Elizabethan London, hoping to give him a life that was not filled with terror, homelessness, and hunger. When we left in 1591, I had put him in the care of Andrew Hubbard, who ruled over London’s vampires—then and now. We had not expected to see Jack again, but he had chosen to become a vampire rather than succumb to the plague.

“Something wrong, Jack?” Matthew’s expression registered unease as he picked up on unspoken signals of distress coming from Jack.

“I’m in trouble,” Jack confessed.

The last time Jack had been “in trouble,” he ended up in the newspapers as the mysterious “vampire murderer” who drained his victims of blood before abandoning their corpses.

“Nobody’s dead,” Jack said hastily, guessing the direction of my thoughts. “I was feeding—on Suki, Dad, not some stranger. I took too much blood too quickly and she ended up in hospital. Father Hubbard told me to come straight here.”

Suki was the young woman the family employed to watch over Jack in London and provide him with sustenance when he could no longer make do with animals and bagged human blood. Vampires needed to hunt, and there were humans who were happy to oblige them—for a fee. It was a dangerous business, and one that I thought the Congregation should be regulating. My proposals on the subject had been met with resistance, however.

“Where is Suki now?” Matthew’s mouth was grim.

“Home. Her sister is with her. Father Hubbard said he’ll check on her twice a day.” Jack looked and sounded miserable.

“Oh, Jack.” I wanted to give him a hug and comfort him, but the tension in the air between Matthew and our son made me reconsider wading into something I didn’t fully understand.

“Suki is your responsibility,” Matthew said. “You shouldn’t have left her in that state.”

“Father Hubbard said—”

“I’m not really interested in what Andrew said,” Matthew interrupted. “You know the rules. If you can’t put Suki’s well-being before your own, your relationship will have to end.”

“I know, Dad. But I wasn’t—I’m still not—I don’t even know what happened. One minute I was fine, and then . . .” Jack trailed off. “When I left her with Father Hubbard, I thought I was looking after her.”

“There are no second chances, Jack. Not with blood rage.” Matthew looked regretful. “I’ll settle things with Suki. You won’t have to see her again.”

“Suki didn’t do anything wrong and neither did I!” Jack’s eyes got darker and his tone more defensive in response to Matthew’s disapproval. “This isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Matthew said quietly. “But it is our obligation as vampires to do what we can to take care of creatures who are weaker than we are.”

“What will happen to her now?” Jack asked, miserable.

“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.