“Juice,” Philip said, tiny fingers flexing. “Pleeeease.”
“Here. Have some of this instead.” I quickly cut some nearly raw steak into small pieces and put them on the mat in front of my son, hoping to distract him.
“Want juice.” Philip scowled and pushed the meat away.
“Juicy juice.” Becca, who was sitting next to Baldwin, drummed her feet against her chair. As far as she knew, there were two marvelous elixirs in the world: juice （milk mixed with blood）， and juicy juice （blood mixed with water）。 Becca preferred the latter.
“Aren’t they feeding you enough, cara?” Baldwin asked Becca.
Becca scowled at him, as if the idea that there was enough food in the world to satisfy her appetite was completely preposterous.
Baldwin laughed. It was a rich, warm—and entirely unfamiliar—sound. In nearly three years of knowing him, I had never heard him so much as chuckle, never mind laugh out loud.
“I’ll trap a pigeon for you tomorrow,” Baldwin promised his niece. “We’ll share it. I’ll even let you play with it first. Would you like that?”
Matthew looked a bit faint at the prospect of Baldwin and Becca going hunting together.
“Here, cara. Drink this,” Baldwin said, holding his blood and wine to her lips.
“There’s too much wine in it,” I protested. “It’s not good—”
“Nonsense,” Baldwin said with a snort. “I grew up drinking wine at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And that was before Philippe sired me. It won’t harm her.”
“Baldwin.” Matthew’s voice sliced through the rising tension in the air. “Diana doesn’t want Rebecca to drink it.”
Baldwin shrugged and put his cup down.
“I’ll mix her some blood and milk. She can have it before she goes to bed,” I said.
“That sounds revolting.” Baldwin shuddered.
“For God’s sake, leave it alone.” Marcus threw his hands in the air. “You’re always meddling. Just like Philippe.”
“Enough, both of you.” Ysabeau was in the unenviable position of sitting between the two feuding vampires. I had warned her in advance that she had drawn the short straw and would be placed between Marcus and Baldwin, but neither protocol nor prudence would permit any other arrangement.
“Nunkle!” Philip cried out at the top of his lungs, feeling left out.
“You don’t have to shout to get my attention, Philip,” Baldwin said with a frown. He clearly held his nephew to a different standard than his niece, who had spent most of the afternoon making noise. “You shall have pigeon tomorrow, too. Or is hunting forbidden as well as wine, sister?”
The room held their breath at Baldwin’s challenge to me. Jack shifted in his chair, unable to bear the weight of the tension in the room. His eyes were inky and huge.
“Agatha. Tell them about your plans in Provence,” Sarah suggested, still holding Jack’s hand. She shot me a look across the table as if to say, I’m doing my best to save this party, but no guarantees.
“Jack!” Philip now tried to get Jack’s attention by blaring out his name like a klaxon.
“I’m okay, flittermouse,” Jack said, trying to soothe Philip’s agitation by using his pet name for him. “May I be excused, Mum?”
“Of course, Jack.” I wanted him as far away from this brewing storm as possible.
“You need to keep him better regulated, Matthew.” Baldwin cast a critical eye over at Jack as he stood to go.
“I will not have my grandson declawed,” Ysabeau hissed. For a moment, I thought she might strangle Baldwin—which was not a bad idea.
“Thirsty.” Philip’s voice was high, piercing, and very, very loud. “Help!”
“For God’s sake, can someone give him a drink!” Jack snarled. “I can’t bear to hear him beg for food.”
Marcus was not the only one struggling with his past. Jack was, too, his memories of starvation on the streets of London returning with Philip’s cries.
“Calm down, Jack.” Matthew had Jack by the collar in a blink.
But Jack was not the only creature to be distressed by Philip’s call for help. A tawny animal bounded in our direction wearing the frame from the potting shed window around its throat like a necklace.
“Oh, no.” Agatha tugged on Sarah’s sleeve. “Look.”
Apollo felt the tension that surrounded his small charge. He shrieked before launching himself at Philip so that he could protect him from harm.