“You can’t kill him, Master Roydon.” Jack stood at the top of the stairs, his fingers wrapped tightly around Lobero’s collar. “Father Hubbard is your grandson. He’s my maker, too.”
Jack turned away, and we heard the cabinet doors open, then water running from an open tap. The sounds were oddly homely considering that a conversational bomb had just gone off.
“My grandson?” Matthew looked at Hubbard in shock. “But that means . . .”
“Benjamin Fox is my sire.” Andrew Hubbard’s origins had always been shrouded in obscurity.
London legends said that he had been a priest when the Black Death first visited England in 1349. After Hubbard’s parishioners all succumbed to the illness, Hubbard had dug his own grave and climbed into it.
Some mysterious vampire had brought Hubbard back from the brink of death—but no one seemed to know who.
“As far as your son was concerned, I was only a tool—someone he made to further his aims in England. Benjamin hoped I would have blood rage,” Hubbard continued. “He also hoped I would help him organize an army to stand against the de Clermonts and their allies. But he was disappointed on both counts, and I’ve managed to keep him away from me and my flock. Until now.”
“What’s happened?” Matthew asked brusquely.
“Benjamin wants Jack. I can’t let him have the boy again,” was Hubbard’s equally abrupt reply.
“Again?” That madman had been with Jack. I turned blindly toward the stairs, but Matthew caught me by the wrists and trapped me against his chest.
“Wait,” he commanded.
Gallowglass came through the door with a large black briefcase and my book bag. He surveyed the scene and dropped what he was carrying.
“What’s happened now?” he asked, looking from Matthew to Hubbard.
“Father Hubbard made Jack a vampire,” I said as neutrally as I could. Jack was listening after all. Gallowglass slammed Hubbard against the wall. “You bastard. I could smell your scent all over him. I thought—”
It was Gallowglass’s turn to be tossed against something—in his case it was the floor. Hubbard pressed one polished black shoe against the big Gael’s sternum. I was astonished that someone who looked so skeletal could be so strong.
“Thought what, Gallowglass?” Hubbard’s tone was menacing. “That I’d violated a child?”
Upstairs, Jack’s rising agitation soured the air. He’d learned from an early age how quickly ordinary quarrels could turn violent. As a boy he’d found even a hint of disagreement between Matthew and me distressing.
“Corra!” I cried, instinctively wanting her support.
By the time my firedrake swooped down and landed on the newel post, Matthew had averted any potential bloodshed by picking up Gallowglass and Hubbard by the scruffs of their necks, prying them apart, and shaking them until their teeth rattled.
Corra gave an irritated bleat and fixed a malevolent stare on Father Hubbard, suspecting quite rightly that he was to blame for her interrupted nap.
“I’ll be damned.” Jack’s fair head peeked over the railing. “Didn’t I tell you Corra would survive the timewalking, Father H?” He gave a hoot of delight and pounded on the painted wood. Jack’s behavior reminded me so strongly of the joyous boy he had once been that I had to fight back the tears.
Corra let out an answering cry of welcome, followed by a stream of fire and song that filled the entrance with happiness. She took flight, zooming up and latching her wings around Jack. Then she tucked her head atop his and began to croon, her tail encircling his ribs so that the spade-shaped tip could gently pat his back. Lobero padded over to his master and gave Corra a suspicious sniff. She must have smelled like family, and therefore a creature to be included among his many responsibilities. He dropped down at Jack’s side, head on his paws but eyes still watchful.