“This is for you. Well, for all of us, really. Grand-mère said that all families of worth have them.” Jack handed Matthew a piece of paper. “If you like it, Fernando and I will have it made into a standard for the tower here at Les Revenants.”
Matthew stared down at the paper.
“If you don’t like it—” Jack reached to reclaim his gift.
Matthew’s arm shot out and he caught Jack by the wrist.
“I think it’s perfect.” Matthew looked up at the boy who would always be like our firstborn child, though I had nothing to do with his warmblooded birth and Matthew was not responsible for his rebirth. “Show it to your mother. See what she thinks.”
Expecting a monogram or a heraldic shield, I was stunned to see the image Jack had devised to symbolize our family. It was an entirely new orobouros, made not of a single snake with a tail in its mouth but two creatures locked forever in a circle with no beginning and no ending. One was the de Clermont serpent. The other was a firedrake, her two legs tucked against her body and her wings extended. A crown rested on the firedrake’s head.
“Grand-mère said the firedrake should wear a crown because you’re a true de Clermont and outrank the rest of us,” Jack explained matter-of-factly. He picked nervously at the pocket of his jeans. “I can take the crown off. And make the wings smaller.”
“Matthew’s right. It’s already perfect.” I reached for his hand and pulled him down so I could give him a kiss. “Thank you, Jack.”
Everyone admired the official emblem of the Bishop-Clairmont family, and Ysabeau explained that new silver and china would have to be ordered, as well as a flag.
“What a lovely day,” I said, one arm around Matthew and the other waving farewell to our family as they departed, my left thumb prickling in sudden warning.
* * *
“I don’t care how reasonable your plan is. Diana’s not going to let you go to Hungary and Poland without her,” Fernando said. “Have you forgotten what happened to you when you left her to go to New Orleans?”
Fernando, Marcus, and Matthew had spent most of the hours between midnight and dawn arguing over what to do about Godfrey’s letter.
“Diana must go to Oxford. Only she can find the Book of Life,” Matthew said. “If something goes wrong and I can’t find Benjamin, I’ll need that manuscript to lure him into the open.”
“And when you do find him?” Marcus said sharply.
“Your job is to take care of Diana and my children,” Matthew said, equally sharp. “Leave Benjamin to me.”
* * *
I watched the heavens for auguries and plucked at every thread that seemed out of place to try to foresee and rectify whatever evil my thumb warned me was abroad.
But the trouble did not gallop over the hill like an apocalyptic horseman, or cruise into the driveway, or even call on the phone.
The trouble was already in the house—and had been for some time.
I found Matthew in the library late one afternoon a few days after Christmas, several folded sheets of paper before him. My hands turned every color in the rainbow, and my heart sank.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A letter from Godfrey.” He slid it in my direction. I glanced at it, but it was written in Old French.
“Read it to me,” I said, sitting down next to him.
The truth was far worse than I had allowed myself to imagine. Based on the letter Benjamin’s killing spree had lasted centuries. He’d preyed on witches, and very probably weavers in particular. Gerbert was almost certainly involved. And that one phrase—“They search within us for the Book of Life”—turned my blood to fire and ice.
“We have to stop him, Matthew. If he finds out we’ve had a daughter . . .” I trailed off. Benjamin’s final words to me in the Bodleian haunted me. When I thought of what he might try to do to Rebecca, the power snapped through my veins like the lash of a whip.
“He already knows.” Matthew met my eyes, and I gasped at the rage I saw there.
“Since when?”
“Sometime before the christening,” Matthew said. “I’m going to look for him, Diana.”
“How will you find him?” I asked.
“Not by using computers or by trying to find his IP address. He’s too clever for that. I’ll find him the way I know best: tracking him, scenting him, cornering him,” Matthew said. “Once I do that, I’ll tear him limb from limb. If I fail—”
“You can’t,” I said flatly.
“I may.” Matthew’s eyes met mine. He needed me to hear him, not reassure him.
“Okay,” I said with a calmness I didn’t feel, “what happens if you fail?”
“You’ll need the Book of Life. It’s the only thing that may lure Benjamin out of hiding so he can be destroyed—once and for all.”
“The only thing besides me,” I said.
Matthew’s darkening eyes said that using me as bait to catch Benjamin was not an option.
“I’ll leave for Oxford tomorrow. The library is closed for the Christmas vacation. There won’t be any staff around except for security,” I said.
To my surprise, Matthew nodded. He was going to let me help.
“Will you be all right on your own?” I didn’t want to fuss over him, but I needed to know. Matthew had already suffered through one separation. He nodded.
“What shall we do about the children?” Matthew asked.
“They need to stay here, with Sarah and Ysabeau and with enough of my milk and blood to feed them until I return. I’ll take Fernando with me—no one else. If someone is watching us and reporting back to Benjamin, then we need to do what we can to make it look as though we’re still here and everything is normal.”
“Someone is watching us. There’s no doubt about it.” Matthew pushed his fingers through his hair. “The only question is whether that someone belongs to Benjamin or to Gerbert. That wily bastard’s role in this may have been bigger than we thought.”
“If he and your son have been in league all this time, there’s no telling how much they know,” I said.
“Then our only hope is to possess information they don’t yet have. Get the book. Bring it back here and see if you can fix it by reinserting the pages Kelley removed,” Matthew said. “Meanwhile I’ll find Benjamin and do what I should have done long ago.”
“When will you leave?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. After you go, so I can make sure that you aren’t being followed,” he said, rising to his feet.