“This hardly seems like friendly behavior to me, Uncle Baldwin,” Marcus said calmly. “Let’s wait and discuss family business after the feast.”
“No, Marcus. We’ll discuss it now and get it over with,” Matthew said, countermanding his son.
In another time and place, Henry VIII’s courtiers had delivered the news of his fifth wife’s infidelity in church so that the king would think twice before killing the messenger. Matthew apparently believed it might keep Baldwin from killing him, too.
When Matthew suddenly appeared behind his brother, having only a moment before been in front, I realized that his decision to remain here was actually intended to protect Baldwin. Matthew, like Henry, would not shed blood on holy ground.
That did not mean, however, that Matthew was going to be entirely merciful. He had his brother in an unbreakable hold, with one long arm wrapped around Baldwin’s neck so that Matthew was grasping his own bicep. His right hand drove into Baldwin’s shoulder blade with enough force to snap it in two, his expression devoid of emotion and his eyes balanced evenly between gray and black.
“And that is why you never let Matthew Clairmont come up behind you,” one vampire murmured to another.
“Soon it will hurt like hell, too,” his friend replied. “Unless Baldwin blacks out first.”
Wordlessly I passed Rebecca to Miriam. My hands were itching with power, and I hid them in the pockets of my coat. The arrow’s silver shaft felt heavy against my spine, and Corra was on high alert, her wings ready to spring open. After New Haven my familiar didn’t trust Baldwin any more than I did.
Baldwin almost succeeded in overcoming Matthew—or at least I thought he had. Before I could cry out in warning, it became evident that Baldwin’s seeming advantage was only a clever trick by Matthew to lull him into changing his position. When he did, Matthew used Baldwin’s own weight and a quick, bone-cracking kick to his brother’s leg to drop him to his knees. Baldwin let out a strangled grunt.
It was a vivid reminder that though Baldwin might be the bigger man, Matthew was the killer.
“Now, sieur.” Matthew’s arm lifted slightly so that his brother hung by his chin, putting more pressure on his neck. “It would please me if you would reconsider my respectful request to establish a de Clermont scion.”
“Never,” Baldwin gurgled out. His lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.
“My wife tells me that the word ‘never’ is not to be used where the Bishop-Clairmonts are concerned.” Matthew’s arm tightened, and Baldwin’s eyes began to roll back into his head. “I’m not going to let you pass out, by the way, nor am I going to kill you. If you’re unconscious or dead, you can’t agree to my request. So if you’re determined to keep saying no, you can look forward to many hours of this.”
“Let. Me. Go.” Baldwin struggled to get each word out. Deliberately Matthew let him take a short, gasping breath. It was enough to keep the vampire going but not to permit him to recover.
“Let me go, Baldwin. After all these years, I want to be something more than the de Clermont family’s black sheep,” Matthew murmured.
“No,” Baldwin said thickly.
Matthew adjusted his arm so that his brother could get out more than a word or two at a time, though this still didn’t remove the bluish cast from his lips. Matthew took the wise precaution of driving the heel of his shoe into his brother’s ankle in case Baldwin planned on using the extra oxygen to fight back. Baldwin howled.
“Take Rebecca and Philip back to Sept-Tours,” I told Miriam, pushing up my sleeves. I didn’t want them to see their father like this. Nor did I want them to see their mother use magic against a member of their family. The wind picked up around my feet, swirling the dust in the church into miniature tornadoes. The flames in the candelabrum danced, ready to do my bidding, and the water in the baptismal font began to bubble.
“Release me and mine, Baldwin,” Matthew said. “You don’t want us anyway.”
“Might . . . need . . . you. My . . . killer . . . after . . . all,” Baldwin replied.
The church erupted into shocked exclamations and whispered exchanges as this de Clermont secret was openly mentioned, though I was sure that some present knew the role Matthew had played in the family.
“Do your own dirty work for a change,” Matthew said. “God knows you’re as capable of murder as I am.”
“You. Different. Twins. Have blood rage. Too?” Baldwin bit out.
The assembled guests fell silent.
“Blood rage?” A vampire’s voice cut through the quiet, his Irish accent slight but noticeable. “What is he talking about, Matthew?”
The vampires in the church traded worried glances as the murmur of conversation resumed. Blood rage was clearly more than they had bargained for when they’d accepted Marcus’s invitation. Fighting the Congregation and protecting vampire-witch children was one thing. A disease that might transform you into a bloodthirsty monster was quite another.
“Baldwin told you true, Giles. My blood is tainted,” Matthew said. His eyes locked with mine, the pupils slightly enlarged. Leave while you can, they silently urged.
But this time Matthew would not be alone. I pushed my way past Ysabeau and Fernando and headed for my husband’s side.
“That means Marcus . . .” Giles trailed off. His eyes narrowed. “We cannot allow the Knights of Lazarus to be led by someone with blood rage. It is impossible.”
“Don’t be such a bloody lobcock,” the vampire next to Giles said in a crisp British accent. “Matthew’s already been grand master, and we were none the wiser. In fact, if memory serves, Matthew was an uncommonly good commander of the brotherhood in more than one tricky situation. I believe that Marcus, though a rebel and a traitor, shows promise as well.” The vampire smiled, but his nod toward Marcus was respectful.
“Thank you, Russell,” Marcus said. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”
“Terribly sorry about the brotherhood slip, Miriam,” Russell said with a wink. “And I’m no physician, but I do believe that Matthew is about to render Baldwin unconscious.”
Matthew adjusted his arm slightly, and Baldwin’s eyeballs returned to their normal position.
“My father’s blood rage is under control. There’s no reason for us to act out of fear and superstition,” Marcus said, addressing everyone in the church. “The Knights of Lazarus were founded to protect the vulnerable. Every member of the order swore an oath to defend his or her fellow knights to the death. I needn’t remind anyone here that Matthew is a knight. From this moment, so, too, are his children.”