Discovery of Witches; a novel

Book one of The ALL SOULS trilogy, by Deborah Harkness (a summary by Pat Evert)

Chapter 1

My aunt Sarah had always warned me it wasn’t possible for one witch to lie to another, but that hadn’t stopped me from trying. This manuscript was challenging me—threatening the walls I’d erected to separate my career as a scholar from my birthright as the last of the Bishop witches. I was in Oxford to complete a research project. Upon its conclusion, my findings would be published, substantiated with extensive analysis and footnotes, and presented to human colleagues, leaving no room for mysteries and no place in my work for what could be known only through a witch’s sixth sense. Most members of the Bishop family were talented witches, but my mother, Rebecca, was special. Everyone said so. Her supernatural abilities had manifested early, and by the time she was in grade school, she could outmagic most of the senior witches in the local coven with her intuitive understanding of spells, startling foresight, and uncanny knack for seeing beneath the surface of people and events. In time the family set down roots in the community deep enough to withstand the inevitable outbreaks of superstition and human fear. That night my parents told me we had to be careful about how we spoke about magic and with whom we discussed it. Humans outnumbered us and found our power frightening, my mother explained, and fear was the strongest force on earth. I hadn’t confessed at the time that magic—my mother’s especially—frightened me, too. Any remaining sense of security evaporated after I turned seven, when my mother and father went to Africa and didn’t come back alive. My efforts to keep magic at arm’s length were futile. But I’d been doing so ever since my parents’ funeral. “Alchemy tells us about the growth of experimentation, not the search for a magical elixir that turns lead into gold and makes people immortal.” If magic was a gift, it had strings attached that bound me to all the Bishop witches who had come before me. By opening Ashmole 782, I’d breached the wall that divided my magic from my scholarship.

Chapter 2

When one witch studies another, the touch of their eyes tingles. Witches aren’t the only creatures sharing the world with humans. Sarah said, voice rising. “Witches, vampires, and daemons aren’t supposed to mix. You know that. Humans are more likely to notice us when we do. No daemon or vampire is worth the risk.” The only creatures in the world that Sarah took seriously were other witches. Humans struck her as unfortunate little beings blind to the world around them. Daemons were perpetual teenagers who couldn’t be trusted. Vampires were well below cats and at least one step below mutts within her hierarchy of creatures. “I’m sure I won’t see him again. He’s running three labs from the look of his business card, and he holds two faculty positions.” She’d switched on her witch’s radar full blast and was now seeing as well as hearing me. The fact that vampires were reputed to be fabulously wealthy was a sore spot with Sarah. “He’s a biochemist and a physician of some sort, interested in the brain.” Sarah snorted, “He wanted something. Vampires and witches don’t go on dates. Unless he was planning to dine on you, of course. They love nothing more than the taste of a witch’s blood.” “Then don’t call us looking for answers when you don’t want to hear them,” Sarah said. “Sarah does worry about you, you know,” Em said apologetically. “And she doesn’t understand why you won’t use your gifts, not even to protect yourself.” If I start using magic, nothing would belong entirely to me. I don’t want to be the next Bishop witch. He knew my name. I’ve never seen him before, but he knew who I was.” Be careful. English vampires may not be as well behaved around witches as the American ones are.”

Chapter 3

Matthew Clairmont, a vampire, snuck into her apartment while she slept. Light was seeping from Diana Bishop’s body—all around the edges, escaping from her pores. The light was a blue so pale it was almost white. For a moment she seemed to shimmer. Matthew shook his head in disbelief. It was impossible. It had been centuries since he’d seen such a luminous outpouring from a witch. He was in search of the document Ashmore 782, that she had been researching.

Chapter 4

Vampires had preternatural senses and abilities—but no supernatural ones, like mind reading or precognition. Those belonged to witches and, on rare occasions, could sometimes crop up in daemons, too. “Are you and your friends stalking me?” Clairmont frowned. “They aren’t my friends, Dr. Bishop.” “No? I haven’t seen so many vampires, witches, and daemons in one place since my aunts dragged me to a pagan summer festival when I was thirteen. If they’re not your friends, why are they always hanging around you?” “Do you really not know why every daemon, witch, and vampire south of the Midlands is following you?” He fixed his odd, gray-rimmed black eyes on me once more. “They’re following you because they believe you’ve found something lost many years ago,” he said reluctantly. “They want it back, and they think you can get it for them.” “What do you know about Ashmole 782?” I asked quietly. “I don’t care what you believe, Dr. Bishop. But you should be on your guard. These creatures are serious. And when they come to understand what an unusual witch you are?” Clairmont shook his head. “It’s uncommon these days for a witch to have so much . . . potential. Not everyone can see it—yet—but I can. You shimmer with it when you concentrate. When you’re angry, too. Surely the daemons in the library will sense it soon, if they haven’t already.”

Chapter 5

Why would a scientist of Clairmont’s caliber want to see an alchemical manuscript—even one under a spell—so much that he’d sit at the Bodleian all day, across from a witch. So I checked the internet. No scientist could produce this much work in so many different subdisciplines. Acquiring the skills alone would take more than a lifetime—a human lifetime, that is. Just how old was Matthew Clairmont behind that thirty-something face? Why would someone working on a breakthrough in evolution be interested in seventeenth-century alchemy, in particular Ashmole 782?

Chapter 6

Clairmont’s tracking my every move. And today he had backup. A diminutive girl was stacking up papers and file folders in the second alcove. Wednesday, it would appear, was daemon day. Even though they’d followed me around college, I knew even less about daemons than I did about vampires. Few seemed to understand the creatures, and Sarah had never been able to answer my questions about them. Based on her accounts, daemons constituted a criminal underclass. Their superabundance of cleverness and creativity led them to lie, steal, cheat, and even kill, because they felt they could get away with it. “The witches were in Oxford for Mabon, and chattering as if the world weren’t full of vampires who hear everything.” Agatha Wilson fell silent. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see the book again.”

And now there’s this,” she said sadly, picking up the abandoned newspaper and handing it to me. The sensational headline immediately caught my attention: VAMPIRE ON THE LOOSE IN LONDON. The bodies of Daniel Bennett, 22, and Jason Enright, 26, were found in an alley behind the White Hart pub on St Alban’s Street early Sunday morning by the pub’s owner, Reg Scott. Both men had severed carotid arteries and multiple lacerations on the neck, arms, and torso. Forensic tests revealed that massive loss of blood was the cause of death, although no blood evidence was found at the scene. Authorities investigating the “vampire murders.”

“The book explains why we’re here,” she said, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. “It tells our story—beginning, middle, even the end. We daemons need to understand our place in the world. Our need is greater than that of the witches or vampires.” “You know your place in the world,” I began. “There are four kinds of creatures—humans, daemons, vampires, and witches.” “Daemons are brilliant, but we’re not vicious—not like the vampires. We would never make someone insane. Even more than witches, we’re victims of human fear and envy.” Ashmole 782 didn’t seem related to what Agatha Wilson had said the book was about. And if Matthew Clairmont and the daemon were so interested in the manuscript, why didn’t they request it?

Chapter 7

“Why the history of science, then?” Clairmont asked. “I wanted to know how humans came up with a view of the world that had so little magic in it. I needed to understand how they convinced themselves that magic wasn’t important. I saw the logic that they used, and the death of a thousand cuts as experimental scientists slowly chipped away at the belief that the world was an inexplicably powerful, magical place. Ultimately they failed, though. The magic never really went away. It waited, quietly, for people to return to it when they found the science wanting.”

Chapter 8

Matthew took me to an evening of yoga. The room was full of daemons, witches, and vampires. “Matthew,” I said, shocked, “is this your house?” By that time we were standing in the doorway, looking out into the courtyard. I saw the keystone over the house’s gate: 1536. “I built it,” he said, watching me closely. Matthew Clairmont was at least five hundred years old. “I’m not used to seeing witches, vampires, and daemons sharing anything—never mind a yoga class,” I confessed. The taboos against mixing with other creatures were strong. “If you’d told me it was possible, I wouldn’t have believed you.” “Amira is an optimist, and she loves a challenge. It wasn’t easy at first. The vampires refused to be in the same room with the daemons during the early days, and of course no one trusted the witches when they started showing up.” His voice betrayed his own ingrained prejudices. “Now most in the room accept we’re more similar than different and treat one another with courtesy. Diana, I don’t care if you use magic or not. But I’m surprised at how much you care. It is who you are. It’s in your blood. It’s in your bones. What’s wrong with it? You were glad of Amira’s power of empathy tonight. That’s a large part of her magic. It’s no better or worse to have the talents of a witch than it is to have the talent to make music or to write poetry—it’s just different. Diana, there’s no such thing as ‘normal.’ Normal’ is a bedtime story—a fable—that humans tell themselves to feel better when faced with overwhelming evidence that most of what’s happening around them is not ‘normal’ at all. You’re trying to push your magic aside, just as you believe your scientists did hundreds of years ago. The problem is,” he continued quietly, “it didn’t work. Not even the humans among them could push the magic out of their world entirely. You said so yourself. It kept returning.” Resist the lure of magic? You’re a witch. If you do the same, it will destroy you.” “This is a human world, Matthew, not a fairy tale. Humans outnumber and fear us. And there’s nothing more powerful than human fear—not magic, not vampire strength. Nothing.” “Fear and denial are what humans do best, Diana, but it’s not a way that’s open to a witch.” Humans had it all wrong when it came to vampires, I reflected. To make them frightening, humans imagined vampires as bloodthirsty. But it was Matthew’s remoteness, combined with his flashes of anger and abrupt mood swings, that scared me.

Chapter 9

Hamish Osborne was a daemon. Like most creatures, they’d been taught to fear each other and were uncertain how to behave. Matthew had been drawn to Hamish Osborne in part because of his directness and in part because, unlike most daemons, he was levelheaded and difficult to unsettle. Over the years a number of the vampire’s friends had been daemons, gifted and cursed in equal measure. The daemon’s uncommon predilection for the economy fascinated Matthew, as did his ease among humans. Hamish loved being around them and found their faults stimulating rather than aggravating. Why did you pick up the phone and call me?” “I needed to get away from a witch. She is far from ordinary. She’s the last of the Bishop witches. Her father is a Proctor.” Matthew Clairmont was falling in love. today he wanted to be on his own while he got his craving for Diana Bishop under control. “An alchemical book that belonged to Elias Ashmole. Diana Bishop is a highly respected historian of alchemy.” “Leave the witch and the manuscript alone.” The vampire placed his wineglass carefully on the mantel and turned away. “I don’t think I can, Hamish. I’m . . . craving her.” “You do realize you’re hunting her?” “She is living a lie,” Matthew growled, “Diana’s pretending she’s human.” Matthew was convinced that creatures were slowly becoming extinct. “There are three things I do know,” Matthew said, “I will not give in to this craving for her blood. I do not want to control her power. And I certainly have no wish to make her a vampire.” He shuddered at the thought. “That leaves love.” “Is she worth the cost, Matt?” he asked softly. “Yes,” Matthew said without a moment of hesitation. “But is she lucky, Hamish? Is she fortunate to have a creature like me in pursuit?”

Chapter 10

“Do you really think you’re going to fool us? You cannot lie to a fellow witch!” Sarah exclaimed. “Why are you doing yoga with those creatures? You know it’s dangerous to mix with daemons and vampires.” “That’s the energy that drew them to Oxford,” I said, suddenly understanding. “It wasn’t my opening the manuscript. It was the resetting of the spell. By Tuesday the library was crawling with vampires, daemons and witches.” “You’ve got a mess on your hands, and it’s all because you thought you could ignore your heritage. It doesn’t work that way.” “There was nothing the Cambridge coven could do to prevent my parents’ murder. They were killed on another continent by fearful humans.” “A witch shouldn’t keep secrets from other witches. Bad things happen when she does.” If Gillian was right, it was the jealousy of fellow witches that I needed to be wary of, not human fear. You are betraying your ancestral lineage with your unorthodox relationship with this creature.” “What is in the manuscript?” I said, temper flaring at last. “The first spells ever constructed. Descriptions of the enchantments that bind the world together.” Knox’s face grew dreamy. “The secret of immortality. How witches made the first daemon. How vampires can be destroyed, once and for all. It’s the source of all our power, past and present. It’s our history, Diana. Surely you want to protect it from prying eyes.” With shaking hands I lowered the shades and locked the door, wishing I’d never heard of Ashmole 782.

Chapter 11

The notion that witches might have murdered my parents was beyond my comprehension. “I went to Scotland because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” “But there is one thing I know for sure. I’d rather share the library with you than with Knox [Diana].” “Vampires are never completely trustworthy—not when they’re around warmbloods. Humans, witches, daemons—everyone who’s not a vampire. [William]” “I’ll risk your bite before I let Knox slither into my brain to fish for information. Friends tell each other the truth, even when it’s difficult.” “Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?” I asked him, my voice low. “We could talk about what happened then.” “I’d like that,” he said slowly.

Chapter 12

“Somewhere in each of these stories, there’s a nugget of truth, something that frightened humans and helped them deny we were real. The strongest distinguishing characteristic of humans is their power of denial. We’re too much for humans—too tall, too strong, too confident, too creative, too powerful, too different. “You don’t breathe much,” I said. “No,” Matthew said. “Our hearts don’t beat very often. We don’t need to eat very often. We run cold, which slows down most bodily processes and helps explain why we live so long.” He’d drunk chocolate in Paris in 1615 and received a building permit from Henry VIII in 1536—of course he was buying wine in 1811. “I was reborn a vampire in 537.” Matthew Clairmont was more than fifteen hundred years old. “The only manuscript I haven’t seen is Ashmole 782. By simple process of elimination, it must be the manuscript that contains our story—if it still survives. What all the manuscripts I’ve seen have in common, though, is an absolute confidence that the alchemist can help one substance change into another, creating new forms of life.” “Agatha told me the daemons believe that Ashmole 782 is the story of all origins—even human origins. Peter Knox told me a different story. He said it was the first grimoire, the source of all witches’ power, the secret of immortality, and how to destroy vampires.” “Vampires believe the lost manuscript explains our longevity and our strength. Some fear that magic was involved in our making and that the witches might find a way to reverse the magic and destroy us. It seems that that part of the legend might be true. Becoming a vampire makes us nearly immortal, it makes most of us rich, and it gives us the chance to accrue unimaginable knowledge and learning.”

Chapter 13

There were dozens more murders. Some of the deaths involved beheadings. Some involved corpses drained of blood, without a speck of blood evidence found at the scene. “These deaths,” he began, drawing the folder gently away from me, “result from botched attempts to transform humans into vampires. What was once second nature to us has become difficult. Our blood is increasingly incapable of making new life out of death. Vampire blood isn’t powerful enough. Modern witches aren’t as powerful as their ancestors were.” Miriam’s voice was matter-of-fact. “And you don’t produce as many children as in times past. Beatrice’s ancestors pushed their magic aside, and that will eventually destroy the family? It seems that witches, like vampires, have also felt the pressures of surviving in a world that is increasingly human. Daemons, too. They exhibit less genius—which was how we used to distinguish them from the human population—and more madness. Once the world was divided more evenly between humans and creatures. Now humans are in the majority and creatures make up only ten percent of the world’s population.” “When a human is reborn a vampire, the maker first removes all the human’s blood, which causes organ failure. Before death can occur, the maker gives his or her blood to the one being reborn,” replied Matthew. “As far as we can tell, the influx of a vampire’s blood forces spontaneous genetic mutations in every cell of the body. That’s what prompts the development of an extra chromosome pair. We have no way of predicting what the tests will reveal. It’s your whole life, and your family’s history, all laid out in black and white. Are you absolutely sure you want that scrutinized?” They took Diana’s blood sample.

Chapter 14

Matthew looked down with a shy smile. “Welcome to All Souls.” All Souls College was a masterpiece of late Gothic architecture, resembling the love child of a wedding cake and a cathedral, with its airy spires and delicate stonework. “Yes, it’s mine. A few of the fellows have private cellars.” Oxford’s finest wine emporium now seemed barren and oddly sterile in comparison. We went up to his rooms. Not a stick of furniture or a single ornament in this room belonged to the college. It was all quintessentially Matthew. “I won an All Souls Prize Fellowship, I switched over here for a few years. When my degree was completed, the university offered me a place and the members elected me a fellow.” “I’ve seen courage like yours before—from women, mostly.” Matthew continued, “Men don’t have it. Promise me that you will never joke with a vampire—not even me—about blood or how you might taste.” Vampires with a conscience spend most of their time trying not to imagine how people would taste. If you were to meet one without a conscience—and there are plenty who fit that category—then God help you. As far as I can tell, there are only two emotions that keep the world spinning, year after year. One is fear. The other is desire.” Love hadn’t factored into his response, I noticed. It was a brutal picture, a tug-of-war between two equal but opposing impulses. “Then you spend most of your time trying not to want things, just like me. For some of the same reasons, too.” “I’ve made a decision, Matthew. On Monday I’ll be recalling Ashmole 782.” “If you didn’t break the enchantment, then you met its conditions. Right now the creatures are waiting to observe whatever counterspell you used, copy it if they can, and get Ashmole 782 themselves. When your fellow witches discover that the spell opened for you of its own accord, they won’t be so patient and well behaved.”

Chapter 15

I picked up a blank request slip from the shallow rectangular tray on the desk. On it I wrote “Ashmole MS 782,” my name, and my reader number. Knox had only suspected that Matthew and I were too close for the comfort of witches. Now he was sure. Knox smiled unpleasantly. “You’ve caught the attention of more than humans this morning, Dr. Bishop. Before nightfall every witch in Oxford will know you’re a traitor.” Mr. Johnson consulted a book on his desk, “Ah, yes. Ashmole 782. That’s been missing since 1859.“ “But I saw it a few weeks ago.” “That’s not possible, Dr. Bishop. No one has seen this manuscript for one hundred and fifty years.” “Someone’s tried to break in to your rooms [Matthew].” “What?” I was aghast. “You’ll stay at Woodstock until Peter Knox leaves Oxford. But this conversation about the connection between Ashmole 782 and your blue fingers is not over,” he continued, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It’s just beginning.” A piece of ordinary paper was clipped to something smooth and shiny. Typed on the paper was a single line of text. “Remember?” Hands shaking, I pulled off the slip. The paper fluttered to the floor, revealing a familiar glossy photograph. I’d only seen it reproduced in black and white, though, in the newspapers. This was in color, and as bright and vivid as the day it had been taken, in 1983. My mother’s body lay facedown in a chalk circle, her left leg at an impossible angle. Her right arm reached toward my father, who was lying faceup, his head caved in on one side and a gash splitting his torso from throat to groin. Some of his entrails had been pulled out and were lying next to him on the ground. “My parents. Gillian told me witches killed my parents. My parents were killed when I was seven.” “No matter what she said, I will not let Knox or any other witch harm you. I’ve got you now.” Matthew’s voice was fierce. Somewhere in the center of my soul, a rusty chain began to unwind. Despite the manuscript, despite the fact that my hands contained enough voltage to run a microwave, and despite the photograph, as long as I was connected to him, I was safe. I could still feel the chain that anchored me to Matthew, witch to vampire. With the links of that chain tight and shining, I slept.

Chapter 16

She’s a witch, he reminded himself as he watched her sleep. She’s not for you. “Matthew.” The familiar voice held none of its usual playful charm. “I have Diana’s DNA test results. They’re . . . surprising. Call me.” Decades earlier the vampire explained that Marcus could survive the fever, but there would be a price. First he would have to be reborn. Then he would have to hunt, and kill, and drink blood—even human blood. Matthew had slashed his own wrist with his teeth and let Marcus drink. The vampire’s powerful blood brought him back to startling life. “Diana possesses nearly every genetic marker we’ve ever seen in a witch.” His mouth tightened into a grim line as he flipped to the final pages. “But these sequences have us concerned.” Matthew dragged his eyes from the picture of Rebecca Bishop and Stephen Proctor. “I’m going to find Gillian Chamberlain.” “No, I’m questioning your judgment,” Marcus said hotly, facing his father without fear. His father’s scent was all over her. He’d done it deliberately, to mark Diana so that every vampire would know to whom she belonged. That meant the situation had gone further than Marcus had believed possible. It was going to be difficult for his father to detach himself from this witch. Marcus swore, “Your damned secrets are going to be the family’s undoing.” Neither his family nor his next taste of blood mattered as much to Matthew as knowing that she was safe and within arm’s reach. If that was what it meant to be bewitched, he was a lost man. It was only a matter of time before Diana knew everything there was to know about him. She would know his secrets, the dark and terrible things he wasn’t brave enough to face.

Chapter 17

“Knox thinks you’ve broken the spell on Ashmole 782,” Matthew said when we were settled. “He figured I was just in the right place at the right time.” “There is a pattern, you know,” he said. “You use your magic when you’re not thinking. I want to take you to my home—to France.” On the phone I told Sarah and Emma about what happened. [Emma] “Honey, a lot of us have problems with Peter Knox. More important, your father didn’t trust him—not at all. Diana, you will come home immediately.” “I will not, Sarah! I’m going to France with Matthew.” Sarah’s far less attractive option had just convinced me. To get first crack at an unknown, fourteenth-century illustrated copy of Aurora Consurgens represented the opportunity of a lifetime for a historian of alchemy. “I have two mothers. The woman who gave birth to me and Ysabeau—the woman who made me a vampire.”

Chapter 18

We were hiding in plain sight. “Thank you for bringing me to Sept-Tours,” I said. “It does feel safer than Oxford.” In spite of Ysabeau.

Chapter 19

I’d never heard of a witch with more than one or two powers. In reading my DNA rest results Matthew had already reached a dozen. “I think the findings are right, Diana. These powers may never manifest, but you’ve inherited the genetic predisposition for them.” Earth is present in almost all witches, and some have either earth and air or earth and water. You’ve got all three, which we’ve never seen before. And you’ve also got fire. Fire is very, very rare. Indications that you have the genetic predisposition to control one or more of the elements. They explain why you could raise a witchwind. Based on this, you could command witchfire and what’s called witchwater as well. Combined with spell casting, cursing, and charms—or any one of them, really—it means you have not only powerful magical abilities but an innate talent for witchcraft.” The prospect of seeing the future as my mother could had been scary enough. Control of the elements? Talking with the dead? “Your magic is behaving as if it’s waking after a long sleep. All that inactivity has made it restless, and now it wants to have its way.” We rode the horses for another hour, exploring the woods and fields around Sept-Tours.

Chapter 20

“Incipit tractatus Aurora Consurgens intitulatus.” The words were familiar—“Here begins the treatise called the Rising of the Dawn.” We continued to dance together. Matthew gently released me, spinning me out to the end of his fingers, then rolled me back along his arm until I came to rest, my back tight against his chest. The music stopped. “Open your eyes,” he said softly. My eyelids slowly lifted. The feeling of floating remained. Dancing was better than I had expected it to be—at least it was with a partner who’d been dancing for more than a millennium and never stepped on your toes. I tilted my face up to thank him, but his was much closer than expected. “Look down,” Matthew said. Turning my head in the other direction revealed that my toes were dangling several inches above the floor. Matthew released me. He wasn’t holding me up. I was holding me up. The air was holding me up. “Come to bed with me.” His eyes widened with surprise at the invitation, and the blood coursed to my face. Matthew brought my hand to his heart. It beat once, powerfully. “I will come up,” he said, “but not to stay. We have time, Diana. You’ve known me for only a few weeks. There’s no need to rush.” The alchemical manuscript was calling to me, and I was eager to get a closer look at it.

Chapter 21

My cheeks reddening at the memory of the invitation I’d extended to him last night. We had slipped past the limits of friendship and were moving in a new direction. After my breakfast we headed downstairs to study. Aurora Consurgens was one of the most beautiful texts in the alchemical tradition, a meditation on the female figure of Wisdom. Bourgot’s Wisdom was full of strength, but there was a softness to her as well. She was a beautiful, terrifying creature with silvery snakes instead of hair, her face shadowed like a moon eclipsed by the sun.

“I’m not here about the witches’ damned book, Matthew. Let them keep it. I’ve come from the Congregation. The covenant clearly forbids any liaison between a vampire and a witch.” “Who are you?” I asked. “And why are you concerned with whom I spend time?” “My name is Domenico Michele. I have known Matthew since I was reborn, and Ysabeau nearly as long. I have come to serve you with a warning, Diana Bishop. Relationships between witches and vampires are forbidden. You must leave this house and no longer associate with Matthew de Clermont or any of his family. If you don’t, the Congregation will take whatever steps are necessary to preserve the covenant.” “The world is full of vampires who cannot be trusted, Diana. Domenico Michele is one of them. He’s one of Matthew’s oldest friends,” Ysabeau murmured, “which makes him a very dangerous enemy.” “What is this Congregation that Domenico mentioned?” I asked. “A council of nine—three from each order of daemons, witches, and vampires. It was established during the Crusades to keep us from being exposed to the humans. It also covers politics and religion. Too many princes and popes were otherworldly creatures. It became more difficult to pass from one life to the next once humans started writing their chronicles.” Ysabeau shuddered. “Vampires found it difficult to feign a good death and move on to a new life with humans nosing around. Yes. If any creature breaks the covenant, it is the responsibility of the Congregation to see that the misconduct is stopped and the oath is upheld.”

Chapter 22

My exposure to this strange new world had left me raw, with a new fragility linked to a vampire and the invisible, undeniable movement of a witch’s blood in my veins. “We aren’t going to break the covenant. We’re going to abide by the Congregation’s rules.” “Why are you giving in?” I whispered. “To avoid exposing us all to the humans—and to keep you alive.” “It’s too late for that. I’ve fallen in love with you. The Congregation will try to stop me, but they won’t tell me who to love.” “Find out who else besides Peter Knox and Domenico Michele are members of the Congregation. Where is the danger? The manuscript and the witches? Peter Knox and the Congregation? Or Domenico Michele and the vampires?” “Were you listening? I am the danger.” Matthew’s voice was sharp. “Oh, I heard you. But you’re keeping something from me. It’s a historian’s job to uncover secrets,” I promised him softly. I’ld had numerous visions lately. It was as if someone had pulled the stopper on a bottle and my magic—released at last—was rushing to get out. “Domenico wants to destroy your family and everything else you care about. Domenico might decide this isn’t the right time to pursue his vendetta. But Peter Knox? He wants Ashmole 782, and he thinks I can get it for him.

Chapter 23

Before I met Matthew, there didn’t seem to be room in my life for a single additional element—especially not something as significant as a fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire. But he’d slipped into unexplored, empty places when I wasn’t looking. The winds began to die down. The de Clermont standard, which had been whipping around, resumed its gentle swaying. The cascade of water from my fingertips slowed to a river, then to a trickle, and stopped entirely. The waves flowing from my hair subsided into swells, and then they, too, disappeared. At last nothing came out of my mouth but a gasp of surprise. The balls of water falling from my eyes were the last vestige of the witchwater to disappear, just as they had been the first sign of its power moving through me. “Thank God,” Ysabeau murmured. “We almost lost her.” My hands were bluish again, but not from electricity. Now they were blue with cold and wrinkled from witchwater. “Was that witchwater?” I shivered at the memory of all that water coming out of me. I had become the water. Knowing that this was no longer common made me feel vulnerable—and even more alone. “It’s no good trying to tell a story you don’t understand. Why is the power coming out now? First it was the wind, then the visions, and now the water, too.” I shuddered. “Daemons have their visionaries, too. It’s not only creatures who are blessed and cursed in this way. Matthew and Blanca watched their son grow and thrive. Matthew had learned to work in stone rather than wood, and he was in high demand among the lords from here to Paris. Then fever came to the village. Everyone fell ill. Matthew survived. Blanca and Lucas did not. That was in 536. A few months later, he was found on the floor beneath its vaulted ceiling, his legs and back broken. He was a dying man. Others said he was standing on the scaffolding one moment and jumped. I could not let him die. I was fond of him, and I knew that the gods were giving me a chance to make him my child. It would be my responsibility to teach him how a vampire must be in the world.” I opened my wrist with my own teeth and told him my blood would heal him. He drank his salvation without fear. Matthew feels deeply. It is a blessing as well as a burden to love so much that you can hurt so badly when love is gone. If you must be with Matthew, then become one of us and put him—and yourself—out of danger. The witches may want to keep you as their own, but they cannot object to your relationship if you are a vampire, too.” All I had to do was become something else.

Chapter 24

I went for a horse ride with Ysabeau. She was going to chase down a rabbit, kill it, and drink its blood in front of me? Staying far away seemed an excellent suggestion. It was horrifying. Then, a marmot, the fox, and the wild goat—or so I thought, and a deer. After each kill, her eyes revealed that she wasn’t completely in command of her emotions—or her actions. “Do you think vampires are beautiful now? Do you still think it would be easy to live with my son, knowing that he must kill to survive?” And absolute obedience to him as a requirement. He is the strongest vampire in the château. He is the head of the house.” I stared at her in astonishment. “Are you saying I have to listen to him because he’s the alpha dog?” “It is for your safety—and his, and everyone else’s—that you must obey. This is not a game.” I called and told Sarah and Emma that I loved Matthew.

Chapter 25

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Lazarus, like a vampire, had made the journey from life to death and back again. Moreover, the cross, combined with a legendary figure from the Holy Land and the mention of knights. The enormity of what it meant to love a vampire struck home as I slid the account book back onto the shelf. It was not just his age that posed the difficulties, or his dining habits, or the fact that he had killed humans and would do so again. It was the secrets. For us to be together, we needed to decide which secrets to share and then let the others go. “You’ll be in danger, and your family, too. Are you willing to risk that, for my sake?” “I made my choice.”

Chapter 26

“With that kiss you have broken every rule that holds our world together and keeps us safe. Matthew, you have marked that witch as your own. And, Diana, you have offered your witch’s blood—your power—to a vampire. You have turned your back on your own kind and pledged yourself to a creature who is your enemy.” “It was a kiss,” I said, shaken. “It was an oath. And having made this promise to each other, you are outlaws. May the gods help you both.” You are going to be hounded to the ends of the earth because of this love you share. We fight as a family.” The Congregation isn’t really bothered by our decision to break the covenant. The Congregation has become interested in Ashmole 782 and the mystery of how Diana acquired it. But the Congregation has been watching you, too—for reasons that go well beyond the book and have to do with your power.” “They’ve been watching me since my parents died.” “If they have you, they’ll have the book, too, or so they think. You’re connected to Ashmole 782 in some powerful way I don’t yet understand. I don’t believe they do either.” “Are you going to sleep with me?” I squeaked. “I thought I might,” he said. “I won’t actually sleep, though.” “Will this ever stop?” I asked quietly. “This feeling when I’m with you—as if I’m fully alive for the first time.”

Chapter 27

“I’ll never possess you completely. I’ll always want more than you can give.” “You’re not the only dangerous creature in this room. But we have to learn how to be with each other in spite of who we are. Since I’ve met you,” I said quietly, “You’ve woken me to a world of sensory possibilities I never dreamed existed.” I wanted him as badly here in the forest when he was about to kill something as I had this morning, and I began to understand what worried Matthew about hunting with me. Survival and sexuality were linked in ways I’d never appreciated until now. The stag sprang into action, leaping down the hillside. But Matthew was faster, and he cut the animal off before it could get too close to where I was hiding. I know that you’re afraid, I said silently, hoping the stag could hear me. He needs to do this. He doesn’t do this for sport, or to harm you. He does it to stay alive. The stag gave a final kick of frustration and fear and then quieted. Matthew stared deep into the eyes of his prey, as if waiting for permission to finish the job, then moved so swiftly that there was nothing more than a blur of black and white as he battened onto the stag’s neck. “You know there won’t be any children between us,” he said while he held me close, our faces nearly touching. Vampires can’t father children the traditional way. Do you mind that? You need to add one more to that number. Marcus, I made him, more than two hundred years ago. And I’m proud of him and what he’s done with his life.” “Stop being all heroic, I don’t want to be with Sir Lancelot. Be yourself—Matthew Clairmont. Complete with your sharp vampire teeth and your scary mother, your test tubes full of blood and your DNA, your infuriating bossiness and your maddening sense of smell.” “And you are going to give me gray hairs—long thought impossible among vampires, by the way—with your courage, your firecracker hands, and the impossible things you say.”

Chapter 28

“Call me old-fashioned if you’d like, but I want to enjoy every moment of our courtship.” Matthew was making it clear that those days and nights were over. With him there would be no more straightforward sex—and I’d had no other kind. Across his back there were dozens, if not hundreds, of marks. “I’ve been a warrior. I’m hard to kill. Here’s the proof.” He gestured at his long white body. As evidence of his indestructibility, the scars were strangely comforting. “If it is magic, then I’m even more delighted to be sharing the rest of my life with a witch,” he said, sounding as content as I felt. In the morning I smiled at my beautiful vampire, sleeping like the dead, and felt like the luckiest creature on the planet as I crept from under the covers. Outside an arm swept me off the ground. Ears popping, I was rocketed straight up into the sky. The gentle tingle against my skin told me what I already knew. When my eyes opened, I would be looking at a witch.

Chapter 29

We descended toward something that looked like a crater set apart from the surrounding countryside. A medieval castle that extended deep into the earth. Just moments ago, I had been lying in bed with Matthew. Now I was standing in a dank castle with a strange witch, Domenico Michele, and Gerbert of Aurillac, the vampire-pope. “My name is Satu Järvinen,” she said. It had been evident she was powerful from the way she flew. But she was adept at spells, too. Even now she was restraining me inside gossamer filaments of magic that stretched across the courtyard without her uttering a single word. “This relationship has been nothing more than an elaborate deception, Diana. Matthew Clairmont has wanted only one thing: the lost manuscript. Everything the vampire has done and every lie he’s told along the way have been a means to that end. Clairmont killed Gillian.” My mind whirled. “This has gone too far, and you are in terrible danger. You must give up Matthew Clairmont and show us what you did to call the manuscript.” “I will never give up my husband, nor will I help any of you claim Ashmole 782.” I’m going to open you up, Diana, and locate every secret you possess,” Satu promised. “We’ll see how stubborn you are then.” Ghosts—dozens of ghosts—were filing behind us in a spectral funeral procession, their faces sad and afraid. “Oubliettes are places of forgetting. Humans who are dropped into oubliettes go mad and then starve to death—if they survive the impact. It’s a very long way down. They can’t get out without help from above, and help never comes.” She soared up and became a blur of white and blue before disappearing. Far above me the wooden door closed. My mother’s ghost appeared and her mouth was so close to my ear that it tickled. “You. You are my greatest secret.”

Chapter 30

His older brother, Baldwin, was better at this than Matthew. He can track anything. “Once he knows that Diana belongs to you, he will not harm her. Baldwin is the head of this family. So long as this is a family matter, he has to know.” Baldwin had been made a vampire in Roman times and had been Philippe’s favorite. They were cut from the same cloth—fond of war, women, and wine, in that order. “If the witches don’t kill this Bishop woman, I will.” Now whenever Matthew held a weapon in his hand, something in him went cold and he fought his way through obstacles with a tenacity that made him unbeatable. “The child is spellbound,” Ysabeau agreed with reluctance. “We are certain of it.” “Yes. It is not that she refuses her magic. She has been kept from it—deliberately.” Ysabeau scowled at the idea. “Rebecca said she would make sure Diana was safe until her daughter was with her shadowed man.” “As soon as Diana told me she was spending time with a vampire, I wondered if you were the one Rebecca had foreseen.” Baldwin tore after Matthew, hoping it was not already too late to stop him from giving the witches not one but two hostages.

Chapter 31

Diana, it’s time to wake up. My mother’s voice was low but insistent. Above me, heavy wood met ancient stone with a deafening crash. “Diana?” It was Matthew. He sounded frantic. His anxiety sent a simultaneous rush of relief and adrenaline through my body. “You need to fly. Can you do that?” Matthew, my mother said, he’s the one we’ve been waiting for. They lifted me out of the oubliette. Matthew swept me up like a sack of flour and started to run. My ankle. It had a ring around it as though it had been closed in a manacle that had burned through the skin. “Satu hung me upside down. She wanted to see if I could fly.” “Your ankle is sprained, but it’s not serious. He was already planning on killing another witch. “My back was someone else’s—someone who had been flayed and burned until her skin was red, and blue, and black. There were strange marks on it, too—circles and symbols. The memory of fire erupted along the lesions. “Satu said she was going to open me up,” I whispered. “But I kept my secrets inside. “The cut on your arm is deep, Diana. It won’t heal properly unless it’s sutured.” Had my mother’s ghost really been in the oubliette. He held me while I spoke, and when I couldn’t speak, and when I cried. “Not even Satu could change my mind. And she tried. “My mother sounded so certain when she told me that you were the one we had been waiting for. That was when I flew.” “We should go to your family. Vampires can’t help you learn about your magic, and the witches will keep pursuing you.” “He loves you. You know this?” “I know, Marthe. I love him, too.”

Chapter 32

“What happened at La Pierre feels like a gambit to me,” Baldwin continued, his eyes never wavering. “The Congregation let you go for some reason of their own. Make your next move before they make theirs. Don’t wait your turn like a good girl, and don’t be duped into thinking your current freedom means you’re safe. Decide what to do to survive, and do it.” We went to stay with Sarah and Emma. “Let Sarah fix it, honey,” Em said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. “The sooner she does, the sooner you’ll be fully healed.” turning to my collarbone. The electrical twinge required to mend it was more powerful, no doubt because the bones were thicker. Sarah muttered a few words and gestured at my ankle. The gauze began to unwind itself. When she had finished, the black and white marks were gone, and though there was still an angry ring around my ankle, the joint itself was noticeably smaller in size. She muttered some more and beckoned to a fresh roll of gauze, which started to wind around my foot and ankle. “The arm muscle was slightly damaged. Can you mend that, as well as the skin?” “Probably,” Sarah said with just a hint of smugness. Fifteen minutes and a few muffled curses later, there was nothing but a thin red line running down my arm. “This is an opening spell,” Sarah said angrily, staring at my back. “You don’t use this on living beings. She could have killed you.” “She was trying to get my magic out—like I was a piñata.” “There are two marks I can’t do much with – A star hanging above a crescent moon. “When I refused to give you up, Satu marked me—with your seal.” “Any vampire would know you were mine—with or without this brand on your back. Satu wanted to make sure that every other creature knew who you belonged to, as well.

Chapter 33

“What might help us understand how Diana is spellbound, Emily?” The word echoed in my mind as I slowly drew myself upright. Spellbinding was reserved for extreme circumstances—life-threatening danger, madness, pure and uncontrollable evil. “Rebecca and Stephen went to Africa to protect you. They spellbound you for the same reason. All they wanted was for you to be safe.” “You learn how to pick your battles and let go of those you can’t win, to fight another day.” “‘Desire urges me on, as fear bridles me.’ Doesn’t that explain everything that happens in the world?” “You have your battle scars,” I said, hoping to soothe him. “Now I have mine.”

Chapter 34

“The spells that Rebecca and Stephen cast ensure that nobody can force the magic from Diana. Her magic is bound up in necessity. Very clever.” Sitting in my lap was one of the missing pages from Ashmole 782. “Christ,” he breathed. “Is that what I think it is? How did your mother get it?” “She explains in the letter,”

“‘My darling Diana,’” he read aloud. “‘Today you are seven—a magical age for a witch, when your powers should begin to stir and take shape. But your powers have been stirring since you were born. You have always been different. That you are reading this means that your father and I succeeded. We were able to convince the Congregation that it was your father—and not you—whose power they sought. You mustn’t blame yourself. It was the only decision we could possibly make. We trust that you are old enough now to understand. You’re old enough now, too, to take up the hunt that we began when you were born—the hunt for information about you and your magic. We received the enclosed note and drawing when you were three. It came to us in an envelope with an Israeli stamp. The department secretary told us there was no return address or signature—just the note and the picture. We’ve spent much of the past four years trying to make sense of it. We couldn’t ask too many questions. But we think the picture shows a wedding.’”

“It is a wedding—the chemical marriage of mercury and sulfur. It’s a crucial step in making the philosopher’s stone.” It was one of the most beautiful depictions of the chemical wedding I’d ever seen. A golden-haired woman in a pristine white gown held a white rose in one hand. It was an offering to her pale, dark-haired husband, a message that she was pure and worthy of him. He wore black-and-red robes and clasped her other hand. He, too, held a rose—but his was as red as fresh-spilled blood, a token of love and death. Behind the couple, chemicals and metals were personified as wedding guests, milling around in a landscape of trees and rocky hills. A whole menagerie of animals gathered to witness the ceremony: ravens, eagles, toads, green lions, peacocks, pelicans. A unicorn and a wolf stood side by side in the center background, behind the bride and groom. The whole scene was gathered within the outspread wings of a phoenix, its feathers flaming at the edges and its head curved down to watch the scene unfold. Someone has been waiting for Matthew and me to find each other for a long time.”

“‘We think the woman in white is meant to be you, Diana. We are less certain about the identity of the dark man. I’ve seen him in your dreams, but he’s hard to place. He walks through your future, but he’s in the past as well. He’s always in shadows, never in the light. And though he’s dangerous, the shadowed man doesn’t pose a threat to you. Is he with you now? I hope so. I wish I could have known him. There is so much I would have liked to tell him about you.’”

Matthew’s voice stumbled over the last words. This is one page of three that are missing from Ashmole 782.

“‘Your father says that you will have to travel far to unlock its secrets. I won’t say more, for fear this note will fall into the wrong hands. But you will figure it out, I know. The house wouldn’t have shared this letter if you weren’t ready. That means you also know that your father and I spellbound you. Sarah will be furious, but it was the only way to protect you from the Congregation before the shadowed man was with you. He will help you with your magic. Sarah will say it’s not his business because he’s not a Bishop. Ignore her. Because you will love him as you love no one else, I tied your magic to your feelings for him. Even so, only you will have the ability to draw it into the open. The past seven years have been the happiest of my life. I wouldn’t give up a moment of our precious time with you—not for an ocean of power or a long, safe life without you. We don’t know why the goddess entrusted you to us, but not a day has passed that we didn’t thank her for it. I cannot shield you from the challenges you will face. You will know great loss and danger, but also great joy. You may doubt your instincts in the years to come, but your feet have been walking this path since the moment you were born. We knew it when you came into the world a caulbearer. You’ve remained between worlds ever since. It’s who you are, and your destiny. Don’t let anyone keep you from it. Try not to be too hard on yourself as you journey into the future. Keep your wits about you, and trust your instincts. It’s not much in the way of advice, but it’s all that a mother can give. We can scarcely bear leaving you, but the only alternative is to risk losing you forever. Forgive us. If we have wronged you, it was because we loved you so much. Mom.’”

“Marcus and Miriam are on their way to New York. They have something to discuss with you.” “No son of ours is checking in to a hotel. He belongs in the Bishop house, with his family, and Miriam shouldn’t be alone. They’re both staying here.

Chapter 35

“The note mentions the subject of your All Souls essay—fear and desire. Don’t you think that’s strange?” “No stranger than the fact that the white queen in this picture is wearing my crest.” Matthew brought the illustration over to me. “The Australian outback. Wyoming. Mali. Those were his favorite places to timewalk.” I knew that some witches could move between past, present, and future, but I’d never thought to ask whether anyone in my own family had the ability. “Remember, Diana: ‘The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed,’” a quote from Albert Einstein. “Stephen Proctor was bewitching Ashmole 782 so that no one but his daughter could call it from the stacks.” Matthew sounded sure. “So that’s why the spell recognized me. “Of course you can timewalk. You’ve been doing it since you were a child. The first time you were three. Your parents were scared to death, the police were called out—it was quite a scene. Four hours later they found you sitting in the kitchen high chair eating a slice of birthday cake. You must have been hungry and gone back to your own birthday party. After that, whenever you disappeared, we figured you were sometime else and you’d turn up. And you disappeared a lot.”

Chapter 36

Does Diana’s hair indicate she might possess powers that didn’t show up in her other DNA results?” “A few—timewalking, shape-shifting, divination,” his son replied. “Diana fully absorbed most of them. In other words, Matthew,” Miriam interjected tartly, “Ashmole 782 is not just about origins, nor is it just about evolution and extinction. It’s about reproduction. You may think it’s nonsense, Diana, but it’s clear to me. Vampires and witches may be able to have children together after all. Witches are having fewer children and possess diminishing powers. Vampires are finding it harder to take a warmblood through the process of rebirth. And the daemons are more unstable than ever. Genetic supercombinations—like those that would occur if a witch and a vampire were to have children—lead to accelerated evolutionary developments.” “So that’s what the Congregation is worried about,” I said softly. “They fear the birth of children that are neither vampire nor witch nor daemon, but mixed. The more creatures who sanction your relationship, the likelier it is that there will be war. But how many more creatures will Matthew destroy on your behalf?” Our families were locked in the dining room, and Sarah was threatening to throw us all out. We had enough problems without severing ties with Ysabeau and Marthe. Part of me wanted to return to the safety of independence and leave these new burdens behind. “At first I was sure this was about the manuscript. Then I supposed it was all about you. Now I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it’s about. Some old, powerful secret is unraveling, and we’re caught up in it. Miriam says that by accepting your relationship we invite war. If we are at war, we’re not fighting for a bewitched alchemical manuscript, or for my safety, or for our right to marry and have children. This is about the future of all of us.” Now three witches and three vampires have pledged loyalty to one another. There were nods all around the table as Matthew’s motley army fell into line behind him, ready to face an enemy we didn’t know and couldn’t name.

Chapter 37

Over the next several days, Matthew’s tiny army learned the first requirement of war: allies must not kill each other. Juliette moved quickly—too quickly for my eyes to see—then pulled slowly away from Matthew with a look of triumph. There was a ripping sound, and blood welled darkly at his throat. Even my imperfect warmblood nose could smell the metallic tang of his blood. It was soaking into his sweater, spreading in a dark stain across his chest. Her leg swung high, and there was a crack as her foot connected with Matthew’s abdomen. He bent over like a felled tree. Her fingers punched through Matthew’s chest, nails tearing through fabric and flesh as if both were paper. A ball of fire arced from the extended tips of my left fingers. Juliette heard the explosion of flame and smelled the sulfur in the air. Her hair caught fire first, and she reeled in panic. At a flick of my wrist and a word to the wind, she was picked up and carried several feet from where Matthew was collapsing into the earth. She fell onto her back, her body alight. She lumbered to her feet once, and I released another bolt. It hit her in the middle of the chest, went through her rib cage, and came out the other side, shattering the tough skin as it passed and turning her ribs and lungs to coal. “Holy God,” Marcus said, taking in Juliette’s charred body and Matthew’s bloody form. “The jugular is nearly severed, and the aorta has been damaged. Not even Matthew’s blood can work fast enough to heal him in both places.” I reached across and slashed the inside of my left elbow, the sharp blade cutting easily through fabric and flesh. My blood flowed, a trickle at first, then faster. I dropped the knife and tightened my left arm until it was in front of his mouth. “Drink,” I said, steadying his head. With the goddess’s help, my blood would heal him. This was my gift. I am inside you, giving you life. Matthew shook his head as if to dislodge an annoying insect and kept drinking. There was a slow pulsing, the sound of my heart starting to die.

Chapter 38

Miriam said calmly. “I know it hurts, but it’s all we have. Vampire blood heals on contact. It will close your artery better than the sutures a surgeon would use. “You taste of honey,” he murmured. “Honey—and hope.” “Giving him your blood like that was unspeakably dangerous. He might not have been able to stop drinking.” “No one—not even I—will transform you into something you’re not.” “You’ll have to promise me something in return.” His eyes narrowed with displeasure. “What’s that?” “Don’t ever ask me to leave you when you’re in danger,” I said fiercely. “I won’t do it.” “What did you promise the goddess in exchange for his life, Diana?” “Anything she wanted.” “Oh, honey.” Em’s face crumpled. “You shouldn’t have done that. There’s no telling when she’ll act—or what she’ll take.” “I didn’t call her at all. They appeared when I decided to give Matthew my blood. They gave me their help willingly.” “What we need is time,” Matthew said thoughtfully. “The Congregation isn’t likely to give us that.” “We’ll take it, then.” His voice was almost inaudible. “We’ll timewalk.”

Chapter 39

“Where? When?” I’d whispered in the dark. “Nothing too distant—though the more recent past has its own risks—but back far enough that we’ll find a witch to train you. “Diana will need three items from a particular time and place in order to move safely. Einstein said that all physicists were aware that the distinctions between past, present, and future were only what he called ‘a stubbornly persistent illusion.’ “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to reassure them. “The house told us you were coming, no matter what it sounds like.” “Four witches, three vampires, and two daemons,” Sophie said dreamily, her hands still on her belly. “But we’re short a daemon. Without one we can’t be a conventicle. That’s what they called a gathering of dissenters in the old days. It’s not even about Matthew and Diana and whether they can be together. It’s about Sophie and Nathaniel, too. It’s about the future.

Chapter 40

“Start out wherever you want to end up,” she advised. “That way all you have to worry about is thinking yourself back to a particular time. The place will take care of itself.” “Now,” I whispered. Our feet rose together. The past, present, and future shimmered around us in a spiderweb of light and color. Each strand in the web moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, sometimes touching another filament before moving gently away again. Though we happily lingered in the past, we were back in the present before Emily finished making the salad. “We’re a proper conventicle now, all nine—three witches, three daemons, and three vampires—present and accounted for.” I was headed to a time before 1976 and a place where Matthew had played chess.

Chapter 41

“Essentially, it’s our marriage agreement. It irrevocably settles a third of my personal assets on you. Even if you were to leave me, these assets would be yours.” Staggering sums of money, a town house on an exclusive square in London, a flat in Paris, a villa outside Rome, the Old Lodge, a house in Jerusalem, still more houses in cities like Venice and Seville, jets, cars—my mind whirled. “My estate should be divided equally among our children,” I said finally. “And that includes all of Matthew’s children. “Finally we have the brotherhood to sort out.” Matthew’s father founded the Knights of Lazarus. Matthew will officially give up his position in the order and appoint his son grand master. “War, It’s about Diana and the appalling lengths the Congregation will go to in an effort to understand the power she’s inherited. And it’s about our common belief that no one has the right to tell two creatures that they cannot love each other—no matter what their species.”

Chapter 42

Since arriving at the Bishop house, Matthew had gradually taken on the responsibility for eight other lives. He’d watched over all of them, regardless of who they were or how they were related to him, with the same ferocious intensity. Now he had only one creature to manage. Em had told me even the most experienced timewalkers respected the unpredictability of moving between past and future and recognized how easy it would be to wander indefinitely within the spiderweb of time. “So we’re going to England,” I said slowly. “When, exactly?” “To 1590.” The historian in me had started to process the opportunities of life in Elizabethan England. “There are witches—powerful witches, who can guide your magic. With this ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor.” Matthew’s voice was quiet. “So now we’re married.” Matthew picked up Doctor Faustus, the earring, and the chess piece. “I’ve always felt . . . ordinary at the Old Lodge,” Matthew said softly. “It’s a place where I can be myself.” A whiff of lavender swirled through the air, out of time and place in a Madison hop barn in October. I marveled at the scent and thought of my father’s note. My eyes were fully open to the possibilities of magic now. “I can smell the quinces.” Our new life in the Old Lodge was already calling to me. “Remember, don’t let go—no matter what.” With the past everywhere around me, the possibility of losing him was all that was frightening. “Never,” he said firmly. “And lift up your foot and then put it down again when I tell you. It’s time.” Together we lifted our feet and stepped into the unknown.

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