“After I recover it, you might be able to figure out which creatures are bound into it, perhaps even date it, by analyzing its genetic information in your lab,” I continued. Matthew’s scientific work focused on issues of species origins and extinction. “When I locate the two missing pages—”
Matthew turned, his face a calm mask. “You mean when we recover Ashmole 782 and when we
locate the other pages.”
“Matthew, be reasonable. Nothing would anger the Congregation more than the news that we were seen together at the Bodleian.”
His voice got even softer, his face calmer. “You are more than three months pregnant, Diana.
Members of the Congregation have already invaded my home and killed your aunt. Peter Knox is desperate to get his hands on Ashmole 782 and knows that you have the power to do it. Somehow he knows about the Book of Life’s missing pages, too. You will not be going to the Bodleian Library or anywhere else without me.”
“I have to put the Book of Life back together again,” I said, my voice rising.
“Then we will, Diana. Right now Ashmole 782 is safely in the library. Leave it there and let this business with the Congregation settle down.” Matthew was relying—perhaps too much—on the idea that I was the only witch who could release the spell my father had placed on the book.
“How long will that take?”
“A few months. Perhaps until after the babies are born,” Matthew said.
“That may be six more months,” I said, reining in my anger. “So I’m supposed to wait and gestate.
And your plan is to twiddle your thumbs and watch the calendar with me?”
“I will do whatever Baldwin commands,” Matthew said, drinking the last of his wine.
“You cannot be serious!” I exclaimed. “Why do you put up with his autocratic nonsense?”
“Because a strong head of the family prevents chaos, unnecessary bloodshed, and worse,” Matthew explained. “You forget that I was reborn in a very different time, Diana, when most creatures were expected to obey someone else without question—your lord, your priest, your father, your husband.
Carrying out Baldwin’s orders is not as difficult for me as it will be for you.”
“For me? I’m not a vampire,” I retorted. “I don’t have to listen to him.”
“You do if you’re a de Clermont.” Matthew gripped my elbows. “The Congregation and vampire tradition have left us with precious few options. By the middle of December, you will be a fully fledged member of Baldwin’s family. I know Verin, and she would never renege on a promise made to Philippe.”
“I don’t need Baldwin’s help,” I said. “I’m a weaver and have power of my own.”
“Baldwin mustn’t know about that,” Matthew said, holding me tighter. “Not yet. And no one can offer you or our children the security that Baldwin and the rest of the de Clermonts can.”
“You are a de Clermont,” I said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Philippe made that perfectly clear.”
“Not in the eyes of other vampires.” Matthew took my hand in his. “I may be Philippe de Clermont’s kin, but I am not his blood. You are. For that reason alone, I will do whatever Baldwin asks me to do.”
“Even kill Knox?”
Matthew looked surprised.
“You’re Baldwin’s assassin. Knox trespassed on de Clermont land, which is a direct challenge to the family’s honor. I assume that makes Knox your problem.” I kept my tone matter-of-fact, but it took effort. I knew that Matthew had killed men before, but somehow the word “assassin” made those deaths seem more sordid and disturbing.