A large hand jerked Phoebe back. It twisted her head to the side.
“He bit you.” Gallowglass’s face whitened. He grabbed me and inspected every inch of my face and neck. “Christ. Why didn’t you call for help?”
Thanks to Leonard’s complete disregard for traffic restrictions or speed limits, we were nearly to the A40.
“He had Phoebe.” I shrank into the seat, trying to stabilize my roiling stomach by clamping both arms over the twins.
“Where was Granny?” Gallowglass asked.
“Granny was listening to a horrible woman in a magenta blouse tell me about the library’s building works while sixty children screamed in the quadrangle.” Ysabeau glared at Gallowglass. “Where were you?”
“Both of you stop it. We were all exactly where we planned to be.” As usual, Phoebe’s voice was the only reasonable one. “And we all got out alive. Let’s not lose sight of the big picture.”
Leonard sped onto the M40, headed for Heathrow.
I held a cold hand to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe.” I pressed my lips together as the car swayed. “I couldn’t think.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Phoebe said briskly. “May I please speak to Miriam?”
“Miriam?” Fernando asked.
“Yes. I know that I am not infected with blood rage, because I didn’t ingest any of Benjamin’s blood. But he did bite me, and she may wish to have a sample of my blood to see if his saliva has affected me.”
We all stared at her, openmouthed.
“Later,” Gallowglass said curtly. “We’ll worry about science and that godforsaken manuscript later.”
The countryside rushed by in a blur. I rested my forehead against the glass and wished with all my heart that Matthew was with me, that the day had ended differently, that Benjamin didn’t know I was pregnant with twins.
His final words—and the prospect of the future they painted—taunted me as we drew closer to the airport.
I hope your children are both girls.
“Diana!” Ysabeau’s voice interrupted my troubled sleep. “Matthew or Baldwin. Choose.” Her tone was fierce. “One of them has to be told.”
“Not Matthew.” I winced and sat straighter. That damned arrow was still jabbing my shoulder.
“He’ll come running, and there’s no reason for it. Phoebe is right. We’re all alive.”
Ysabeau swore like a sailor and pulled out her red phone. Before anyone could stop her, she was speaking to Baldwin in rapid French. I caught only half of it, but based on her awed response, Phoebe obviously understood more.
“Oh, Christ.” Gallowglass shook his shaggy head.
“Baldwin wishes to speak with you.” Ysabeau extended the phone in my direction.
“I understand you’ve seen Benjamin.” Baldwin was as cool and composed as Phoebe. “I did.”
“He threatened the twins?”
“He did.”
“I’m your brother, Diana, not your enemy,” Baldwin said. “Ysabeau was right to call me.”
“If you say so,” I said. “Sieur.”
“Do you know where Matthew is?” he demanded.
“No.” I didn’t know—not exactly. “Do you?”
“I presume he is off somewhere burying Jack Blackfriars.”
The silence that followed Baldwin’s words was lengthy.