Marthe cast her eyes heavenward as if seeking deliverance from vampires in love. Ysabeau held up a warning finger, which silenced any further comment from Matthew. As the only person present who was not fully inculcated into the de Clermont pack rules, however, I ignored my mother-in-law’s command.
“Actually, Marcus, I don’t think that’s true,” I called into the next room, pouring myself some more tea.
“What?” Marcus reappeared in a flash, holding a silver julep cup that I knew held neither bourbon, sugar, water, nor mint. His expression was indignant. “Of course I’m the best person to look after her. I love her. Phoebe’s my mate. I know what she needs better than anyone.”
“Better than Phoebe?” I asked.
“Sometimes.” Marcus’s chin was now jutting at a belligerent angle.
“Bullshit.” I sounded like Sarah—blunt and impatient—and attributed it to the early hour rather than to any genetic predisposition to forthrightness among Bishop women. “You vampires are all the same—thinking you know what we poor warmbloods really want—especially the females. In fact, this is what Phoebe wanted: to be made a vampire the old-fashioned way. It’s your job to make sure her decision is honored and that the plan works.”
“Phoebe didn’t understand what she was agreeing to. Not entirely,” Marcus said, unwilling to concede the point. “She could get bloodsick. She could have trouble making her first kill. I would be able to help her, support her.”
Bloodsick? I nearly choked on my tea. What on earth was that?
“I’ve never seen anyone so well prepared to become a manjasang as Phoebe,” Ysabeau reassured Marcus.
“But there are no guarantees.” Marcus couldn’t let his worries go.
“Not in this life, my child.” Ysabeau’s expression was pained as she remembered when life still held the promise of a happy ending.
“It’s late. We’ll talk more after sunrise. You won’t sleep, Marcus, but try to rest.” Matthew touched his son’s shoulder as he passed by.
“I might take a run instead. Try to wear myself out that way. Nobody but the farmers will be awake at this hour.” Marcus looked at the brightening light beckoning through the windows.
“You shouldn’t attract any notice,” Matthew confirmed. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No need,” Marcus replied. “I’ll get changed and head out. Maybe take the route toward Saint-Priest-sous-Aixe. There are some good climbs along the way.”
“Should we expect you for breakfast?” Matthew’s tone was a touch too casual. “The children are early risers. They’ll want a chance to order their older brother around.”
“Don’t worry, Matthew.” A ghost of a smile touched Marcus’s lips. “Your legs are longer than mine. I’m not going to run away again. I just need to clear my head.”
* * *
—
WE LEFT THE DOOR of our room ajar in case Philip or Becca woke, and got back into bed. I crawled between the sheets, grateful on this warm May morning that my husband was a vampire, and tucked myself into his coolness. I knew when Marcus set out for his run because Matthew’s shoulders settled fully into the mattress. Until then, he had been slightly braced, ready to get up and go to his son’s aid.
“Do you want to go after him?” I asked. Matthew’s legs really were longer than Marcus’s, and he was fast. There was plenty of time for him to catch up to his son.
“Alain is following along, just in case,” Matthew said.
“Ysabeau said that she was more worried about Marcus than Phoebe.” I drew back to look at Matthew’s face in the dawn light. “Why?”
“Marcus is still so young.” Matthew sighed.
“Are you serious?” Marcus had been reborn a vampire in 1781. Two-hundred-plus years seemed plenty grown up to me.
“I know what you’re thinking, Diana, but when a human is made a vampire, they have to mature all over again. It can take a very long time before we are ready to strike out on our own,” Matthew said. “Our judgment can be faulty when we’re in the first flush of vampire blood.”
“But Marcus has already sown his wild oats.” The family was quick to tell tales of Marcus’s early years in America, the scandals and scrapes in which he became entangled, the difficulties from which he’d had to be extracted by senior members of the de Clermont family.
“Which is precisely why he can’t be allowed to supervise Phoebe’s transformation. Marcus is about to take a newly reborn vampire as a mate. It would be a major step under any circumstances, but given his youth . . .” Matthew paused. “I hope I’m doing the right thing, letting him take this step.”