“Emma! Emma!”
Sebastian’s voice came from a great distance. Like time sped up, it flew toward me, growing louder, clearer, suddenly bursting over me, bringing me back.
“Emma!”
I turned, and saw he had Henrietta in his arms. She had her face buried against his neck. She was not weeping any longer.
Dazed, I looked around me, and saw the three bloodied bodies in the grass. And in the tree, the dry, cackling cry of a lone crow scraped across the air.
There was no talking Sebastian out of what he had seen.
“You killed them,” he accused. “All three. They tore each other apart. They went mad—and you! You had a look on your face, Emma, such as I’ve never seen. You did it. Do not deny it!”
After we returned Henrietta to her tearful and grateful parents, I had not even had time to freshen up before Sebastian dragged me into the deserted conservatory.
“You must tell no one what you saw,” I said urgently.
“As if I would. I am astonishingly good at keeping secrets.” He leaned forward, a rabid look in his eye. “How long have you been able to do…that? And what exactly was that?”
“I do not wish to speak of it.” I attempted to leave but he blocked my way.
“Why not? I will tell you my secret.”
I smiled. “It is no secret. You are having an affair with Mr. Farrington.”
He was chagrined. “How the bloody…? I’ve taken such pains!”
“Perhaps it is only I who knows you so well, who sees it,” I admitted.
“This preternatural sense of yours is devilish. It must be related to what you did back there with those wolves.”
“I did not—”
He sighed and held up a hand to stop my lies. “This is not the time or place for me to explain, but let us dispense with the denials and the rational. I am not unfamiliar with the realm of unnatural myself.” He sighed. “As for Mr. Farrington, it is ill-fated. He is set to marry. He has no stomach for the disapprobation of our kind. It is jail for some, you know. Which is an improvement over earlier ages, when we were burned alive.” He peered at me and added more feelingly, “I did not ask to be made this way, you know. I was born to it.”
“Then perhaps you will understand my explanation that what happened with the wolves—well, I, too, was born to certain abilities. May we agree to leave it at that?”
He considered this, then shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Sebastian,” I warned quietly, “I cannot speak of this.”
He studied me. “I have heard tales of people capable of amazing things in protection of a loved one. Mothers lifting heavy bales to free a trapped child, a father fighting a fire against all odds to rescue his family, that sort of thing. Whatever you did, you did it to save Henrietta.” His brows shot down. “Wasn’t it strange how they did not go for her? As if they did not even see her.”
“Yes.” I was carefully neutral in my tone. I myself was only beginning to understand, but I had realized that Henrietta belonged to Marius in some way—he had power over her and some mysterious, dangerous purpose that turned my blood to ice to imagine.
“God help us if anything happened to her.” Sebastian blanched at the thought. “Henrietta—I swear, Emma, that child is my heart. Would that it happen to me, or any of us, but nothing must ever hurt her. She is the best of us.”
The best of us.
And just like that, I understood at last.
Chapter Twenty-one
Corruptio optimi pessima. The corruption of the best is worst.
It was Henrietta. She, the best of us just as Sebastian said—the most innocent, the most pure of heart and kind of nature—she was in the eye of this. And the power of her goodness was the fuel for Marius’s evil.
I stumbled to find Fox, then dragged him into the garden, into the shelter of that ridiculous Grecian folly, so that we would not be overheard.
But he was beside himself with anguish over the morning’s events, and spoke first. “I went to The Sanctuary first!” he protested as if I’d accused him. He grasped my shoulders. I guessed it was his own recriminations he answered. “She was not there.
I looked all over the area.”
“He must have hidden her until I arrived. It was me he wanted. He does not wish to harm her.” I told him of my conversation with Sebastian, and my new suspicion about how Henrietta figured prominently somehow into Marius’s plan.
He was pale as he absorbed this news. His fingers bit into my flesh. “Does he mean to make her a vampire on May Day, in this place where the power meridian furnishes great energy? Is that what this is about?”
I had thought of this as well. “She has to be willing, you said. If he wants her to live with him, she has to agree to it. And he might succeed. The poor child is confused and afraid.” I threw my hands out explosively. “Why does he want such a companion? Is he still human enough to wish for a child of his own?”
“Emma,” he said softly, collecting me to him to console me. I allowed myself one moment to lean into his strength.
“But why the attachment to The Sanctuary, the hawthorn tree?” he posed suddenly, his thoughts taking a turn. This logic brought me up short. I stared back at him, no answer at hand.
Speculation furrowed his brow. “What does this child have to do with Father Luke and the knights of his order? The Sanctuary, the hawthorn tree—none of that need figure into a plan to make a vampire child. And note the priest has shown no interest in Henrietta.”
This was true. But if Marius did not wish to make Henrietta as himself, then what purpose did he have for her?
Fox said, “There is one certain thing we do know. Marius wishes you dead, for you alone can stop him.”
Frustration rose within me. “How? How am I to stop him? How can it be this is left to me when I understand so little?”
But it had to be so. He had sent those vile wolves for me, the snakes before that. He had come for me himself, tried to master me with his mind. It could mean only one thing: a fight for Henrietta—the best of all of us. I did not know how, or even why, but I did know, as clearly as I ever had known anything in my life, that she was in mortal danger.
I had a summons from Father Luke asking me to come to tea. It had begun to rain again, and the roads were awash with mud, but that did not stop me. I set out for Saint Michael in the Fields by myself, and stood in an icy, lashing rain and pounded on the door of the rectory. My summons went unanswered. Overhead, the dull murmur of faraway thunder crept across the downs like footsteps, and I thought—only for a moment—that perhaps this was another of Marius’s traps.
I lunged through the deluge to the church. It was open, as I had hoped. As I shook off the water beading on my woolen cloak, I noted the naked nail where my crucifix once hung. I regretted what I had done, but I did not think it was wrong. I would do worse if called upon. I wondered if there was an end to what I was capable of in defense of Henrietta.
I entered the nave. The growling skies shook the magnificent stained-glass windows. I wondered if Marius had whipped fury into the heavens, and then I thought—I am glad. The more he was thwarted, did that not bode all the better for me?
To my left, a flickering rack of candles illuminated a mournful Madonna painted in oils. I stared at her, thinking of my own mother. The sadness, as always, cut sharply, fresh as if I’d only moments ago learned of her demise. It might be blasphemous not to revile her, but she was my mother, and despite what she’d become, I loved her.
“You were caught in the storm?”
Father Luke emerged out of the shadows, as solid as the thick oak colonnade behind him. His dark hair caught the moving light, and for a moment he looked like the painting of Saint Michael himself, the warrior with the ability to raise a mighty sword and strike the deadly blow to the enemies of Heaven.
He held out his hand to me in a conciliatory gesture. “Come. Let us go to my office.”
We dashed through the pelting rain t
o the back door to the rectory, and stepped into a cozy kitchen. Mrs. Tigwalt came in from what I supposed was the pantry, her brow furrowing in disapproval when she saw me.
“Tea, please,” the priest requested. “And a blanket. That first, I think. Mrs. Andrews is drenched.”
In the sitting room where he had fed me wine nearly a fortnight ago, he drew up a thickly cushioned chair by the fire. “Take off your shoes and come and sit.”
It took several minutes to arrange my comfort to his satisfaction. Only after Mrs. Tigwalt had come and gone with the tea tray did I meet Father Luke’s eye. “You wished to see me. And I am anxious to speak with you. I am hopeful we can come to some understanding to help one another.”
I had the sense he was struggling with something as he settled in a well-worn leather armchair. “Mrs. Andrews, humor me if this seems unrelated to what is clearly on your mind, but how well do you know Mr. Fox?”
I was stunned by the question, and immediately wary. “We’ve only met a few weeks ago, but we have grown close with the extraordinary circumstances we’ve shared.”
“Do you recall when we were at Mr. Hess’s house, you gave me a switch from the hawthorn tree to use as a weapon? It was good thinking, by the way, bringing a branch from the tree. I understand you have certain instincts which make you rather adept at these things. For instance, you knew where Marius was before he materialized.” He smiled at me. “That saved my life.”
“A favor in turn, for your arrival there that night saved mine, and Mr. Fox’s.” I tilted my head. “But you did not come for us. You never knew we’d be there. You intended to sanctify George Hess’s corpse.”
He inclined his head.
“I read the Book of Tobit,” I said suddenly. “Is it a demon in the tree up on The Sanctuary?”
He inhaled thoughtfully. “You take my lesson too literally. I had merely wished to illustrate to you the proven concept of using live trees to harness and hold wickedness. Corrupt and corrupting energy, if you will. What manner of evil, what dark energy or being—this I was never told. It was not deemed necessary. That I know what to do should it be required, that is what matters. My instructions are very clear.
“The day I saw the seal was broken, I knew I would be the one, out of the hundreds of men who served in this church through the years, to uphold the sanctity of the tree. It is part of my solemn vow to prevent the release onto the earth of that which the tree holds—this task I maintain in the utmost reverence. It is required that I alone see to it, for I have been trained. I cannot help you, Mrs. Andrews. I wish for you to understand why and to know that were it within my power, I would tell you everything.”
“It could perhaps be a vampire,” I pressed, uninterested in his explanation. “Perhaps one of Marius’s ancestors whose loyalty he commands.”
He shrugged, showing agreement. “It matters not what this Marius plans with the evil imprisoned in my tree. It shall not be released. I have assured you I would see to that, and you must trust me.”
“It is a rather large request to make of me, Father Luke. How can I trust anyone to see to my chief concern? I care about Henrietta’s safety, first and foremost. I must protect her—that is my duty, to be undertaken at any cost.”
His face darkened. “The danger to your beloved Henrietta is an unspeakable thing. But there is more at stake here, Mrs. Andrews, than this one life, as precious as it might be.”
One life? I reacted silently, considering the implications that he might consider this “one life” not important enough to notice. I was resolved, however, that it was the only thing that mattered and in this—I realized—Father Luke and I were at odds.
He had asked that I trust him. I knew I dared not.
Father Luke cocked his elbow on the armrest and frowned as his large hand scrubbed thoughtfully against his chin. “But let us talk more of the hawthorn switch. You do not have it?”
This was no idle musing, I realized. “You think it is important?” I asked pointedly.
“I do not like loose ends. I returned to Mr. Hess’s house for it the following day. His housekeeper admitted me, and I was told no one had been yet that day to visit the body. I searched the room. When I could not find it, I hoped you had it.”
“No,” I said, meeting his gaze in alarm. “But why do you want it?”
He forced a smile. His features, which were so overpowering, achieved mildness when he relaxed them. He could have been handsome, or at least far less forbidding than he was, had humor or peace ever lightened his features. “I am probably worried for nothing.”
I knew he did not believe this, but allowed the comment to pass. I had more urgent matters on my mind, namely Henrietta. “Father, is there anything else you can teach me to help me guard the child? I do what I can to protect her as strongly as possible, but somehow Marius is still influencing her.”
“There is no speaking to the parents? It would be best if she could be removed from Avebury altogether.”
“No, I am sorry to say. I am viewed with suspicion for reasons too complex to go into at the moment. I would have no sway with any tales of danger to Henrietta. They would ship me to Bedlam before they would listen to such a radical suggestion.”
“Of course.” He frowned deeply as he thought for a few moments. “I am going to do something quite unorthodox, Mrs. Andrews. Pardon me for a moment while I fetch something that will help you.”
He returned quickly with a gold filial the size and approximate shape of a candlestick, fitted with a sunburst at the top. “Do you know what this is?” he asked as he held it for me to see. “It is called a monstrance. It is the most powerful force against evil that exists, for it holds the body and blood of Christ. By church law, no one can touch the consecrated host but an ordained priest.”
A glass receptacle in the center of the golden sun showed a slim wafer of bread. I looked at the priest in shock.
“I give this to you for the child, even at the peril of breaking with the rules of the Church, perhaps even at the peril of mortal sin. I want you to understand how deeply I am moved by your lonely burden to protect this precious one.”
He handed the monstrance to me, adding, “But you must still see to the other things you have been doing. Most important, seal the doors and windows of her rooms. A thick line of salt will do. Make very certain no one you do not know is allowed in. The old belief that any agent of evil cannot enter a dwelling uninvited is true.”
“But there are so many people in the house.” I frowned. “You are right. It is imperative to shield her completely from Marius. I shall sit by her side at night. Mr. Fox and I shall take turns.”
At the mention of Valerian Fox, his brows forked into a deep “V.” “Have a care there, Mrs. Andrews.”
I looked at him sharply. “You do not like Fox.”
Father Luke hesitated, then said, “We all have our reasons for being here, one way or another. Mine, I have stated clearly. Yours, I understand the most of all. It is the purest of motives: love. But ask yourself, what does Mr. Fox have to gain?”
“He has hunted the vampire Marius for many years,” I replied.
“But why? When I asked him, he said simply that this Marius had taken something from him. What? A child, a wife, a sister, a brother? Why is he so reluctant to explain himself further?”
He had hit a sore spot, for although I knew Mr. Fox’s tale of witnessing the awful sight of the vampire feeding on the streets of Montmartre, I only now realized I did not completely understand why this had been so compelling as to change his entire life. Or what the vampire lord taken from him. Father Luke was correct. If I had suspected before that Fox had a secret, I knew now it was true. But I trusted him nonetheless. He had more than proven his loyalty to me on several occasions.
“We all have our secrets, do we not?” I said.
Father Luke peered at me with a mysterious smile. “Even you?”
“I should think all my secrets have been revealed.”
“Th
en you must have been referring to my secrets. I do not deny them, and I realize it must frustrate you but I assure you, what I choose to keep hidden from you will not help you protect your precious child, Mrs. Andrews. My path in this is set. To involve you and Mr. Fox would complicate things, perhaps fatally.”
“You cannot think we would ever betray you.”
He struggled for a moment. “Not intentionally. But if it came to a choice, and if my goals and yours ever came into conflict, I would have made a grave error in showing my hand, as it were.”
“But our ends are the same. How would we be in disagreement?”
He seemed to wince, and I saw this idea was a matter of great dread. “We might. Remember, my orders are quite clear. My loyalties equally so. I am a man of compassion and conscience, but duty must take priority over everything. You must understand this.”
I was quiet for a moment. I had accepted that Father Luke would not help us, as he stubbornly maintained his own solitary path. But how could he and I—both fighting on the side of good against an almost overwhelming evil—ever find ourselves in opposition?
He did not trust Fox—he’d said as much. And me? With what he knew of me, did he think…?
Marius’s words echoed in my mind. There is something of the vampire in you.
Was it me, more than recalcitrant Mr. Fox, he did not trust?
“Please,” Father Luke said softly, reaching for my hand and patting it. “We must agree to go separately about our own means and ends. But I will help you, indeed I will, Mrs. Andrews. In any and all ways I can.”
I saw this was true. He was not a selfish or cruel man. Indeed, the sincerity I saw in his face was genuine. But he was a man bound by his own beliefs, and his allegiance to his church. And the distance that yawned between his world and mine would not be breached.
As he was walking me out, there was something else I wanted to know, a question he, as a priest, was in a unique position to answer. “Father, you understand that I…what I am, and what it means. My mother was afflicted…” Emotion stopped me from continuing. Perhaps, if he had donned his vestments and I were able to slip into the solace of the peculiar rite of penance, I could have spoken further. But I did not need to.
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