The small room that Philippe used to conduct his business was filled with vampires and testosterone as Matthew, Fernando, and Gallowglass all jostled for the best position. Baldwin sat in a Windsor chair that was tipped back so he could cross his feet on the desk. Marcus leaned on the other side of the desk, his color high. Marcus’s mate—for the petite young woman standing nearby must be the one I’d heard so much about, Phoebe Taylor—was trying to referee the dispute between the head of the de Clermont family and the grand master of the Knights of Lazarus. “This strange household of witches and daemons you’ve gathered must disband immediately,”
Baldwin said, trying without success to rein in his temper. His chair dropped to the floor with a bang.
“Sept-Tours belongs to the Knights of Lazarus! I am the grand master, not you. I say what happens here!” Marcus shouted back.
“Leave it, Marcus.” Matthew had his son by the elbow.
“If you don’t do exactly what I say, there will be no Knights of Lazarus!” Baldwin stood, so that the two vampires were nose to nose.
“Stop threatening me, Baldwin,” Marcus said. “You aren’t my father, and you aren’t my master.”
“No, but I am the head of this family.” Baldwin’s fist met the wooden desk with a resounding crash.
“You will listen to me, Marcus, or accept the consequences for your disobedience.”
“Why can’t the two of you sit down and talk about this reasonably?” Phoebe said, making a rather courageous effort to separate the two vampires.
Baldwin snarled at her in warning, and Marcus lunged for his uncle’s throat.
Matthew grabbed Phoebe and pulled her out of the way. She was shaking, though more from anger than fear. Fernando spun Marcus around and pinned his arms to his sides. Gallowglass clamped his hand on Baldwin’s shoulder.
“Do not challenge him,” Fernando said sharply, when Marcus tried to worm his way free. “Not unless you are prepared to walk out of this house and never return.”
After a few long moments, Marcus nodded. Fernando released him but remained close.
“These threats are absurd,” Marcus said in a slightly more reasonable tone. “The Knights of Lazarus and the Congregation have been in bed with each other for years. We oversee their financial affairs, not to mention help them enforce order among the vampires. Surely—”
“Surely the Congregation wouldn’t risk de Clermont family retaliation? Wouldn’t violate the sanctuary that has always been afforded to Sept-Tours?” Baldwin shook his head. “They already have, Marcus. The Congregation is not playing games this time. They’ve been looking for a reason to disband the Knights of Lazarus for years.”
“They’re doing so now because I brought official charges against Knox for Emily’s death?” Marcus asked.
“Only in part. It was your insistence on having the covenant set aside that the Congregation couldn’t stomach.” Baldwin thrust a roll of parchment at Marcus. Three wax seals hung from the bottom, swaying slightly due to the rough treatment. “We considered your request—again. It’s been denied. Again.”
That one word—“we”—solved a long-standing mystery. Since the covenant had been signed and the Congregation had been formed in the twelfth century, there had always been a de Clermont among the three vampires at the meeting table. Until now I had not known that creature’s present identity:
Baldwin.
“It was bad enough that a vampire interfered in a dispute between two witches,” he continued.
“Demanding reparations for Emily Mather’s death was foolish, Marcus. But continuing to challenge the covenant was unforgivably na?ve.”
“What happened?” Matthew asked. He passed Phoebe into my care, though his look suggested he was none too happy to see me here.