“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.
“This is why making children into vampires is forbidden,” Matthew replied. “Their behavior is unpredictable, and they don’t have sufficient self-control. Newly reborn vampires exhibit some of the same tendencies, but at least they have adult bodies that can survive punishment.”
A horse and rider approached. It was Marcus. I had never seen him on horseback before, and he rode with the same practiced assurance as the rest of the family. In Marcus’s case, he hadn’t even bothered with a saddle and bridle. He’d simply thrown one leg over the animal’s back and left the rope attached to the horse’s halter.
“Just checking to make sure you’re both okay,” Marcus called to us, trotting closer. “Jack was worried, so I told him I’d make sure you’d found each other.”
I was worried, too. Matthew’s blood rage wasn’t abating as quickly as it normally did.
“You handled that better than most vampires would have,” Marcus commented.
“She’s my daughter. I love her,” Matthew replied, looking up at his son. “But I came close—so close—to lashing out. Like I did with Eleanor.”
And Eleanor had died. It had been a long time ago, in a different world and under very different circumstances, but Matthew had discovered in one horrible instant that loving someone was not always enough to protect them from harm.
“Like I did with Cecilia,” Matthew whispered, burying his head in his hands again.
Marcus wasn’t the only one in the house who was struggling with his memories.
“You aren’t the same man you were back then,” I said firmly.
“Yes, he is.” Marcus’s voice was rough.
“Marcus!” I was shocked. “How can you—”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“John Russell always said you were too sincere to be a de Clermont.” Matthew gave a humorless laugh. “He said I was mad to make you a vampire.”
“Why did you do it, then?” Marcus asked his father.
“You fascinated me,” Matthew replied. “I knew you had secrets, but you were honest and true in so many other ways. I couldn’t figure out how you managed it.”
“So it wasn’t my gift for healing,” Marcus said sardonically.
“That was part of it.” Matthew’s blood rage was being carried away on a tide of recollection. He settled more easily against the tree. “But the question really shouldn’t be why I changed you from a human to a vampire, but rather why you accepted my offer.”
Marcus took his time before he answered.
“Because I had nothing left to lose that mattered,” Marcus replied. “And I thought you might be the father that I had been searching for.”
Words of Two Syllables
THE NEW ENGLAND PRIMER, 1762
Absent
abhor
apron
author
Babel
became
beguile
boldly
Capon
cellar
constant
cupboard
Daily
depend
divers
duty
Eagle
eager
enclose
even
Father
famous
female
future
Gather