Time's Convert

“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.”

“Have you forgotten how modern methods of child rearing failed Marcus?” Baldwin said, striking back. “I cannot believe you would want them to suffer as Marcus did in New Orleans. When young vampires determine the course of their own lives, they leave death and chaos in their wake.”

“I was wondering when you’d bring up New Orleans,” Marcus said.

“Philippe would not have allowed you to compromise Rebecca’s future—nor will I,” Baldwin continued, his attention focused on Matthew.

“You’re no Philippe, Baldwin,” Marcus said softly. “Not by a long shot.”

Every creature in the room held their breath. Baldwin’s only reaction was to twist his lips into a smile that promised retribution. Philippe’s son had not survived the Roman army, the Crusades, two world wars, and the ups and downs on Wall Street by being hasty when it came to revenge.

“I’m going back to Berlin. You have two weeks to run the tests, Matthew. If you don’t, I’m going to hold Diana to her promise,” Baldwin said. “Sort your family out—or I will.”

* * *

—

“WHY ON EARTH DID PHILIPPE choose him for a son?” Sarah asked when Baldwin was gone.

“I’ve never understood the attraction,” Ysabeau admitted. Marthe gave her a sympathetic smile.

“What will you do, Matthew?” Fernando asked quietly. Tabitha sat in his lap, purring like a motorboat while he scratched her ears.

“I’m not sure,” Matthew said. “I wish Philippe were here. He would know how to manage Baldwin—and Rebecca.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Marcus exclaimed. “When is this family going to stop holding Philippe up as the perfect father?”