The Book of Life

by Deborah Harkness

  "Not the explosion. That!" Fernando pointed to Saint-Lucien's bell tower, which was being circled by a winged, two-legged, fire-breathing creature. Gallowglass rose for a better look.

  "That's Corra. She goes where Auntie goes," Gallowglass said matter-of-factly.

  "But that's a dragon." Fernando turned wild eyes on his stepson.

  "Bah! That's no dragon. Can't you see she's only got two legs? Corra is a firedrake." Gallowglass twisted his arm to show off a tattoo of a winged creature that strongly resembled the airborne beast. "Like this. I might have left out one or two details, but I did warn everybody that Auntie Diana wasn't going to be the same witch she was before."

  *

  "It's true, honey. Em is dead." The stress of telling Diana and Matthew was clearly too much for her. Sarah could have sworn that she saw a dragon. Fernando was right. She needed to cut back on the whiskey.

  "I don't believe you." Diana's voice was high and sharp with panic. She searched Ysabeau's grand salon as though she expected to find Emily hiding behind one of the ornate settees.

  "Emily's not here, Diana." Matthew's hushed voice was infused with regret and tenderness as he stepped before her. "She's gone."

  "No." Diana tried to push past him and continue her search, but Matthew drew her into his arms.

  "I'm so sorry, Sarah," Matthew said, holding Diana tight to his body.

  "Don't say you're sorry!" Diana cried, struggling to free herself from the vampire's unbreakable hold. She pounded on Matthew's shoulder with her fist. "Em isn't dead! This is a nightmare. Wake me up, Matthew--please! I want to wake up and find we're still in 1591."

  "This isn't a nightmare," Sarah said. The long weeks had convinced her that Em's death was horribly real.

  "Then I took a wrong turn--or tied a bad knot in the timewalking spell. This can't be where we were supposed to end up!" Diana was shaking from head to toe with grief and shock. "Em promised she would never leave without saying good-bye."

  "Em didn't have time to say good-bye--to anyone. But that doesn't mean she didn't love you." Sarah reminded herself of this a hundred times a day.

  "Diana should sit," Marcus said, pulling a chair closer to Sarah. In many ways Matthew's son looked like the same twenty-something surfer who had walked into the Bishop house last October. His leather cord, with its strange assortment of objects gathered over the centuries, was still tangled in the blond hair at the nape of his neck. The Converse sneakers he loved remained on his feet. The guarded, sad look in his eyes was new, however.

  Sarah was grateful for the presence of Marcus and Ysabeau, but the person she really wanted at her side at this moment was Fernando. He'd been her rock during this ordeal.

  "Thank you, Marcus," Matthew said, settling Diana in the seat. Phoebe tried to press a glass of water into Diana's hand. When Diana just stared at it blankly, Matthew took it and placed it on a nearby table.

  All eyes alighted on Sarah.

  Sarah was no good at this kind of thing. Diana was the historian in the family. She would know where to start and how to string the confusing events into a coherent story with a beginning, a middle, and an end, and perhaps even a plausible explanation of why Emily had died.

  "There's no easy way to tell you this," Diana's aunt began.

  "You don't have to tell us anything," Matthew said, his eyes filled with compassion and sympathy. "The explanations can wait."

  "No. You both need to know." Sarah reached for the glass of whiskey that usually sat at her side, but there was nothing there. She looked to Marcus in mute appeal.

  "Emily died up at the old temple," Marcus said, taking up the role of storyteller.

  "The temple dedicated to the goddess?" Diana whispered, her brow creasing with the effort to concentrate.

  "Yes," Sarah croaked, coughing to dislodge the lump in her throat. "Emily was spending more and more time up there."

  "Was she alone?" Matthew's expression was no longer warm and understanding, and his tone was frosty.

  Silence descended again, this one heavy and awkward.

  "Emily wouldn't let anyone go with her," Sarah said, steeling herself to be honest. Diana was a witch, too, and would know if she strayed from the truth. "Marcus tried to convince her to take someone with her, but Emily refused."

  "Why did she want to be alone?" Diana said, picking up on Sarah's own uneasiness. "What was going on, Sarah?"

  "Since January, Em had been turning to the higher magics for guidance." Sarah looked away from Diana's shocked face. "She was having terrible premonitions of death and disaster and thought they might help her figure out why."

  "But Em always said higher magics were too dark for witches to handle safely," Diana said, her voice rising again. "She said any witch who thought she was immune to their dangers would find out the hard way just how powerful they were."

  "She spoke from experience," Sarah said. "They can be addictive. Emily didn't want you to know she'd felt their lure, honey. She hadn't touched a scrying stone or tried to summon a spirit for decades."

  "Summon spirits?" Matthew's eyes narrowed into slits. With his dark beard, he looked truly terrifying.

  "I think she was trying to reach Rebecca. If I'd realized how far she'd gone in her attempts, I would have tried harder to stop her." Sarah's eyes brimmed with tears. "Peter Knox must have sensed the power Emily was working with, and the higher magics have always fascinated him. Once he found her--"

  "Knox?" Matthew spoke softly, but the hairs on the back of Sarah's neck rose in warning.

  "When we found Em, Knox and Gerbert were there, too," Marcus explained, looking miserable at the admission. "She'd suffered a heart attack. Emily must have been under enormous stress trying to resist whatever Knox was doing. She was barely conscious. I tried to revive her. So did Sarah. But there was nothing either of us could do."

  "Why were Gerbert and Knox here? And what in the world did Knox hope to gain from killing Em?" Diana cried.

  "I don't think Knox was trying to kill her, honey," Sarah replied. "Knox was reading Emily's thoughts, or trying his best to. Her last words were, 'I know the secret of Ashmole 782, and you will never possess it.'"

  "Ashmole 782?" Diana looked stunned. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive." Sarah wished her niece had never found that damned manuscript in the Bodleian Library. It was the cause of most of their present problems.

  "Knox insisted that the de Clermonts had missing pages from Diana's manuscript and knew its secrets," Ysabeau chimed in. "Verin and I told Knox he was mistaken, but the only thing that distracted him from the subject was the baby. Margaret."

  "Nathaniel and Sophie followed us to the temple. Margaret was with them," Marcus explained in answer to Matthew's astonished stare. "Before Emily fell unconscious, Knox saw Margaret and demanded to know how two daemons had given birth to a baby witch. Knox invoked the covenant. He threatened to take Margaret to the Congregation pending investigation into what he called 'serious breaches' of law. While we were trying to revive Emily and get the baby to safety, Gerbert and Knox slipped away."

  Until recently Sarah had always seen the Congregation and the covenant as necessary evils. It was not easy for the three otherworldly species--daemons, vampires, and witches--to live among humans. All had been targets of human fear and violence at some point in history, and creatures had long ago agreed to a covenant to minimize the risk of their world's coming to human attention. It limited fraternization between species as well as any participation in human religion or politics. The nine-member Congregation enforced the covenant and made sure that creatures abided by its terms. Now that Diana and Matthew were home, the Congregation could go to hell and take their covenant with them as far as Sarah was concerned.

  Diana's head swung around, and a look of disbelief passed over her face.

  "Gallowglass?" she breathed as the salon filled with the scent of the sea.

  "Welcome home, Auntie." Gallowglass stepped forward, his golden beard gleaming where the sunlight str
uck it. Diana stared at him in astonishment before a sob broke free.

  "There, there." Gallowglass lifted her into a bear hug. "It's been some time since the sight of me brought a woman to tears. Besides, it really should be me weeping at our reunion. As far as you're concerned, it's been only a few days since we spoke. By my reckoning it's been centuries."

  Something numinous flickered around the edges of Diana's body, like a candle slowly catching light. Sarah blinked. She really was going to have to lay off the booze.

  Matthew and his nephew exchanged glances. Matthew's expression grew even more concerned as Diana's tears increased and the glow surrounding her intensified.

  "Let Matthew take you upstairs." Gallowglass reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled yellow bandanna. He offered this to Diana, carefully shielding her from view.

  "Is she all right?" Sarah asked.

  "Just a wee bit tired," Gallowglass said as he and Matthew hustled Diana off toward Matthew's remote tower rooms.

  Once Diana and Matthew were gone, Sarah's fragile composure cracked, and she began to weep. Reliving the events of Em's death was a daily occurrence, but having to do so with Diana was even more painful. Fernando appeared, his expression concerned.

  "It's all right, Sarah. Let it out," Fernando murmured, drawing her close.

  "Where were you when I needed you?" Sarah demanded as her weeping turned to sobs.

  "I'm here now," Fernando said, rocking her gently. "And Diana and Matthew are safely home."

  *

  "I can't stop shaking." Diana's teeth were chattering, and her limbs were jerking as if pulled by invisible strings. Gallowglass pressed his lips together, standing back while Matthew wrapped a blanket tight around his wife.

  "That's the shock, mon coeur," Matthew murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. It wasn't just the death of Emily but the memories of the earlier, traumatic loss of her parents that were causing her distress. He rubbed her arms, the blanket moving against her flesh. "Can you get some wine, Gallowglass?"

  "I shouldn't. The babies . . ." Diana began. Her expression turned wild and her tears returned. "They'll never know Em. Our children will grow up not knowing Em."

  "Here." Gallowglass thrust a silver flask in Matthew's direction. His uncle looked at him gratefully.

  "Even better," Matthew said, pulling the stopper free. "Just a sip, Diana. It won't hurt the twins, and it will help calm you. I'll have Marthe bring up some black tea with plenty of sugar."

  "I'm going to kill Peter Knox," Diana said fiercely after she'd taken a sip of whiskey. The light around her grew brighter.

  "Not today you're not," Matthew said firmly, handing the flask back to Gallowglass.

  "Has Auntie's glaem been this bright since you returned?" Gallowglass hadn't seen Diana Bishop since 1591, but he didn't recall it being this noticeable.

  "Yes. She's been wearing a disguising spell. The shock must have knocked it out of place," Matthew said, lowering her onto the sofa. "Diana wanted Emily and Sarah to enjoy the fact that they were going to be grandmothers before they started asking questions about her increased power."

  Gallowglass bit back an oath.

  "Better?" Matthew asked, drawing Diana's fingers to his lips.

  Diana nodded. Her teeth were still chattering, Gallowglass noted. It made him ache to think about the effort it must be taking for her to control herself.

  "I am so sorry about Emily," Matthew said, cupping her face between his hands.

  "Is it our fault? Did we stay in the past too long, like Dad said?" Diana spoke so softly it was hard for even Gallowglass to hear.

  "Of course not," Gallowglass replied, his voice brusque. "Peter Knox did this. Nobody else is to blame."

  "Let's not worry about who's to blame," Matthew said, but his eyes were angry.

  Gallowglass gave him a nod of understanding. Matthew would have plenty to say about Knox and Gerbert--later. Right now he was concerned with his wife.

  "Emily would want you to focus on taking care of yourself and Sarah. That's enough for now." Matthew brushed back the coppery strands that were stuck to Diana's cheeks by the salt from her tears.

  "I should go back downstairs," Diana said, drawing Gallowglass's bright yellow bandanna to her eyes. "Sarah needs me."

  "Let's stay up here a bit longer. Wait for Marthe to bring the tea," Matthew said, sitting down next to her. Diana slumped against him, her breath hiccupping in and out as she tried to hold back the tears.

  "I'll leave you two," Gallowglass said gruffly.

  Matthew nodded in silent thanks.

  "Thank you, Gallowglass," Diana said, holding out the bandanna.

  "Keep it," he said, turning for the stairs.

  "We're alone. You don't have to be strong now," Matthew murmured to Diana as Gallowglass descended the twisting staircase.

  Gallowglass left Matthew and Diana twined together in an unbreakable knot, their faces twisted with pain and sorrow, each giving the other the comfort they could not find for themselves.

  *

  I should never have summoned you here. I should have found another way to get my answers. Emily turned to face her closest friend. You should be with Stephen.

  I'd rather be here with my daughter than anywhere else, Rebecca Bishop said. Stephen understands. She turned back to the sight of Diana and Matthew, still locked in their sorrowful embrace.

  Do not fear. Matthew will take care of her, Philippe said. He was still trying to figure out Rebecca Bishop--she was an unusually challenging creature, and as skilled at keeping secrets as any vampire.

  They'll take care of each other, Rebecca said, her hand over her heart, just as I knew they would.

  Matthew raced down the curving stone staircase that wound between his tower rooms at Sept-Tours and the main floor of the chateau. He avoided the slippery spot on the thirtieth tread and the rough patch on the seventeenth where Baldwin's sword had bashed the edge during one of their arguments.

  Matthew had built the tower addition as his private refuge, a place apart from the relentless busyness that always surrounded Philippe and Ysabeau. Vampire families were large and noisy, with two or more bloodlines coming uncomfortably together and trying to live as one happy pack. This seldom happened with predators, even those who walked on two legs and lived in fine houses. As a result, Matthew's tower was designed primarily for defense. It had no doors to muffle a vampire's stealthy approach and no way out except for the way you came in. His careful arrangements spoke volumes about his relationships with his brothers and sisters.

  Tonight his tower's isolation seemed confining, a far cry from the busy life he and Diana had created in Elizabethan London, surrounded by family and friends. Matthew's job as a spy for the queen had been challenging but rewarding. From his former seat on the Congregation, he had managed to save a few witches from hanging. Diana had begun the lifelong process of growing into her powers as a witch. They'd even taken in two orphaned children and given them a chance at a better future. Their life in the sixteenth century had not always been easy, but their days had been filled with love and the sense of hope that followed Diana wherever she went. Here at Sept-Tours, they seemed surrounded on all sides by death and de Clermonts.

  The combination made Matthew restless, and the anger he kept so carefully in check whenever Diana was near him was dangerously close to the surface. Blood rage--the sickness that Matthew had inherited from Ysabeau when she'd made him--could take over a vampire's mind and body quickly, leaving no room for reason or control. In an effort to keep the blood rage in check, Matthew had reluctantly agreed to leave Diana in Ysabeau's care while he walked around the castle grounds with his dogs, Fallon and Hector, trying to clear his head.

  Gallowglass was crooning a sea chantey in the chateau's great hall. For reasons Matthew couldn't fathom, every other verse was punctuated by expletives and ultimatums. After a moment of indecision, Matthew's curiosity won out.

  "Fucking firedrake." Gallowglass had one of the pikes d
own from the cache of weapons by the entrance and was waving it slowly in the air. "'Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain.' Get your arse down here, or Granny will poach you in white wine and feed you to the dogs. 'For we've received orders for to sail for old England.' What are you thinking, flying around the house like a demented parakeet? 'And we may never see you fair ladies again.'"

  "What the hell are you doing?" Matthew demanded.

  Gallowglass turned wide blue eyes on Matthew. The younger man was wearing a black T-shirt adorned with a skull and crossbones. Something had slashed the back, rending it from left shoulder to right hip. The holes in his nephew's jeans looked to be the result of wear, not war, and his hair was shaggy even by Gallowglassian standards. Ysabeau had taken to calling him "Sir Vagabond," but this had done little to improve his grooming.

  "Trying to catch your wife's wee beastie." Gallowglass made a sudden upward thrust with the pike. There was a shriek of surprise, followed by a hail of pale green scales that shattered like isinglass when they hit the floor. The blond hair on Gallowglass's forearms shimmered with their iridescent green dust. He sneezed.

  Corra, Diana's familiar, was clinging to the minstrels' gallery with her talons, chattering madly and clacking her tongue. She waved hello to Matthew with her barbed tail, piercing a priceless tapestry depicting a unicorn in a garden. Matthew winced.

  "I had her cornered in the chapel, up by the altar, but Corra is a cunning lass," Gallowglass said with a touch of pride. "She was hiding atop Granddad's tomb, her wings spread wide. I mistook her for an effigy. Now look at her. Up in the rafters, vainglorious as the devil and twice as much trouble. Why, she's put her tail through one of Ysabeau's favorite draperies. Granny is going to have a stroke."

  "If Corra is anything like her mistress, cornering her won't end well," Matthew said mildly. "Try reasoning with her instead."

  "Oh, aye. That works very well with Auntie Diana." Gallowglass sniffed. "Whatever possessed you to let Corra out of your sight?"

  "The more active the firedrake is, the calmer Diana seems," Matthew said.

  "Perhaps, but Corra is hell on the decor. She broke one of Granny's Sevres vases this afternoon."

  "So long as it wasn't one of the blue ones with the lion heads that Philippe gave her, I shouldn't worry." Matthew groaned when he saw Gallowglass's expression. "Merde."