“Philip gets cross when Becca gets all the attention.” Jack’s voice was roughened with suppressed rage, and he made his next words deliberately playful and light. “Granny Sarah has all kinds of advice on how to treat younger brothers and sisters. Most of it involves ice cream and trips to the zoo.” Jack’s banter didn’t fool Matthew.
“Look at me.” Matthew’s voice was weak and raspy, but there was no mistaking that this was an order.
Jack met his eyes.
“Benjamin is dead,” Matthew said.
“I know.” Jack looked away, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other.
“Benjamin can’t hurt you. Not anymore.”
“He hurt you. And he would have hurt my mother.” Jack looked at me, and his eyes filled with darkness.
Fearing that the blood rage would engulf him, I took a step in Jack’s direction. I stopped before taking another, forcing myself to let Matthew handle it.
“Eyes on me, Jack.”
Matthew’s skin was gray with effort. He had uttered more words since Jack’s arrival than he had in a full week, and they were sapping his strength. Jack’s wandering attention returned to the head of his clan.
“Take Rebecca. Give her to Diana. Then come back.”
Jack did as asked, while the rest of us watched warily in case either he or Matthew lost control. With Becca safely in my arms, I kissed her and told her in a whisper what a good girl she was not to fuss at being taken from her father.
Becca frowned, indicating she was playing this game under protest.
Back at Matthew’s side, Jack reached for Philip.
“No. I’ll keep him.” Matthew’s eyes were getting ominously dark, too. “Take Ysabeau home, Jack.
Everybody else go, too.”
“But, Matthieu,” Ysabeau protested. Fernando whispered something in her ear. Reluctantly she nodded. “Come, Jack. On the way to Sept-Tours, I will tell you a story about the time Baldwin attempted to banish me from Jerusalem. Many men died.”
After delivering that thinly veiled warning, Ysabeau swept Jack from the room.
“Thank you, Maman,” Matthew murmured. He was still supporting Philip’s weight, and his arms shook alarmingly.
“Call if you need me,” Marcus whispered as he headed out the door.
As soon as it was just the four of us in the house, I took Philip from Matthew’s lap and plunked both babies in the cradle by the fireplace.
“Too heavy,” Matthew said wearily as I tried to lift him from the chair. “Stay here.”
“You will not stay here.” I studied the situation and decided on a solution. I marshaled the air to support my hastily woven levitation spell. “Stand back, I’m going to try magic.” Matthew made a faint sound that might have been an attempt at laughter.
“Don’t. The floor’s okay,” he said, his words slurring with exhaustion.
“The bed’s better,” I replied firmly as we skimmed over the floor to the elevator.
During our first week at Les Revenants, Matthew permitted Ysabeau to come and feed him. He regained some of his strength and a bit more mobility. He still couldn’t walk, but he could stand provided he had assistance, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
“You’re making such quick progress,” I said brightly, as though everything in the world were rosy. Inside my head it was very dark indeed. And I was screaming in anger, fear, and frustration as the man I loved struggled to find his way through the shadows of the past that had overtaken him in Chelm.