A Discovery of Witches(113)
As we walked out into the gardens, Matthew chatted animatedly about a problem at work that involved a missing strand of something that should have been present in a blood sample but wasn’t. He sketched out a chromosome in the air in an effort to explain, pointing to the offending area, and I nodded even though what was at stake remained mysterious. The words continued to roll out of his mouth, and he put an arm around my shoulder, drawing me close.
We rounded a line of hedges. A man in black stood outside the gate we’d passed through yesterday on our ride. The way he leaned against a chestnut tree, with the elegance of a leopard on the prowl, suggested he was a vampire.
Matthew scooped me behind him.
The man pulled himself gracefully away from the tree’s rough trunk and strolled toward us. The fact that he was a vampire was now confirmed by his unnaturally white skin and huge, dark eyes, emphasized by his black leather jacket, jeans, and boots. This vampire didn’t care who knew he was different. His wolfish expression was the only imperfection in an otherwise angelic face, with symmetrical features and dark hair worn curling low onto his collar. He was smaller and slighter than Matthew, but the power he exuded was undeniable. His eyes sent coldness deep under my skin, where it spread like a stain.
“Domenico,” Matthew said calmly, though his voice was louder than usual.
“Matthew.” The glance the vampire turned on Matthew was full of hate.
“It’s been years.” Matthew’s casual tone suggested that the vampire’s sudden appearance was an everyday occurrence.
Domenico looked thoughtful. “When was that? In Ferrara? We were both fighting the pope—though for different reasons, as I remember. I was trying to save Venice. You were trying to save the Templars.”
Matthew nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the other vampire. “I think you must be right.”
“After that, my friend, you seemed to disappear. We shared so many adventures in our youth: on the seas, in the Holy Land. Venice was always full of amusements for a vampire such as you, Matthew.” Domenico shook his head in apparent sorrow. The vampire inside the chateau gate did look Venetian—or like some unholy cross between an angel and a devil. “Why did you not come and visit me when you passed between France and one of your other haunts?”
“If I caused offense, Domenico, it was surely too long ago to be of any concern to us now.”
“Perhaps, but one thing hasn’t changed in all these years. Whenever there’s a crisis, there’s a de Clermont nearby.” He turned to me, and something avaricious bloomed on his face. “This must be the witch I’ve heard so much about.”
“Diana, go back to the house,” Matthew said sharply.
The sense of danger was palpable, and I hesitated, not wanting to leave him alone.
“Go,” he said again, his voice as keen edged as a sword.
Our vampire visitor spotted something over my shoulder and smiled. An icy breeze brushed past me and a cold, hard arm linked through mine.
“Domenico,” chimed Ysabeau’s musical voice. “What an unexpected visit.”
He bowed formally. “My lady, it is a pleasure to see you in such good health. How did you know I was here?”
“I smelled you,” Ysabeau said contemptuously. “You come here, to my house, uninvited. What would your mother say if she knew you behaved in such a fashion?”
“If my mother was still alive, we could ask her,” Domenico said with barely concealed savagery.
“Maman, take Diana back to the house.”
“Of course, Matthew. We will leave the two of you to talk.” Ysabeau turned, tugging me along with her.
“I’ll be gone more quickly if you let me deliver my message,” Domenico warned. “If I have to come back, I won’t be alone. Today’s visit was a courtesy to you, Ysabeau.”
“She doesn’t have the book,” Matthew said sharply.
“I’m not here about the witches’ damned book, Matthew. Let them keep it. I’ve come from the Congregation.”
Ysabeau exhaled, soft and long, as if she’d been holding her breath for days. A question burbled to my lips, but she silenced it with a warning look.
“Well done, Domenico. I’m surprised you have the time to call on old friends, with all your new responsibilities.” Matthew’s voice was scornful. “Why is the Congregation wasting time paying official visits on the de Clermont family when there are vampires leaving bloodless corpses all over Europe for humans to find?”
“It’s not forbidden for vampires to feed on humans—though the carelessness is regrettable. As you know, death follows vampires wherever we go.” Domenico shrugged off the brutality, and I shivered at his casual disregard for frail, warmblooded life. “But the covenant clearly forbids any liaison between a vampire and a witch.”
I turned and stared at Domenico. “What did you say?”
“She can speak!” Domenico clasped his hands in mock delight. “Why not let the witch take part in this conversation?”
Matthew reached around and drew me forward. Ysabeau remained entwined through my other arm. We stood in a short, tight line of vampire, witch, and vampire.
“Diana Bishop.” Domenico bowed low. “It’s an honor to meet a witch of such ancient, distinguished lineage. So few of the old families are still with us.” Every word he uttered—no matter how formally phrased—sounded like a threat.