“Watch out, Agatha. Sometimes she gets excited and pulls,” I warned. “And she’s stronger than she looks.”
“Oh, I’m used to it,” Agatha said. “Margaret is always trying to braid it, and it just ends up in knots. Where’s Marcus?”
“Behind you!” Marcus said, giving out hugs of welcome. “Don’t tell me you two are here to check up on me?”
“Not this time,” Sarah said with a laugh. “Why? Do you need checking up on?”
“Probably,” Marcus said cheerfully, though his smile was a touch anxious.
“What’s the news from Paris?” Agatha asked. “How is Phoebe?”
“All good, so far,” Marcus replied. “But it’s a big day.”
“Miriam will begin weaning Phoebe today,” Matthew explained, wanting to illuminate vampire culture to his witch and daemon guests. If all went according to plan, today Phoebe would get her first taste of blood that didn’t come from her maker.
“You make it sound as though Phoebe’s a baby,” Sarah said with a frown.
“She is,” Matthew replied.
“Phoebe’s a grown woman, Matthew. Maybe we could say, ‘Today Phoebe is experimenting with new foods,’ or, ‘Today Phoebe is starting her new diet,’” Sarah suggested.
Matthew’s face bore an expression of bewildered exhaustion—and Sarah and Agatha had only just arrived.
“Why don’t we go into the solarium,” I said, steering Sarah and Agatha toward the kitchen door. “Marthe made some lovely shortbread, and we can catch up on all the news while Matthew feeds the twins.”
As I suspected, the prospect of sugary treats was irresistible, and Agatha and Sarah settled into the comfortable chairs with coffee, tea, and cookies.
“So what’s the crisis?” Sarah said around a bite of shortbread.
“I think Philip wove his first spell,” I said. “I didn’t catch the words, so I’m not sure. He was playing with time, at the very least.”
“I don’t know what you think I can do about it, Diana.” No matter the situation, Sarah could be relied upon to be perfectly candid. “I didn’t have any babies to worry about, witchy or otherwise. You and Matthew are going to have to figure it out yourselves.”
“I thought you might remember what rules Mom and Dad set out for me when I was a baby,” I prompted her.
Sarah thought for a moment. “Nope.”
“Don’t you remember anything about my childhood?” Irritation and worry made my tone especially sharp.
“Not much. I was in Madison with your grandmother. You were in Cambridge. You weren’t in ‘how about you drop by for a visit’ range.” Sarah gave a disapproving sniff. “Besides, Rebecca wasn’t exactly welcoming.”
“Mom was trying to keep Dad’s secret—and mine. She wouldn’t have been able to lie to you,” I said, bristling at the criticism. Witches could smell another witch’s falsehoods with the same ease that Matthew’s dogs could track deer. “What did Grandma do with you and Mom, when you were growing up?”
“Oh, she was a fan of Dr. Spock. Mom didn’t worry too much about what we did, provided we didn’t burn the house down,” Sarah said.
This was not what I wanted to hear.
“There’s no need to be concerned that your children might develop magical talent, Diana,” Sarah said soothingly. “Bishops have been doing just that for centuries. You should be thrilled they’re showing signs of aptitude at such an early age.”
“But Philip and Becca aren’t ordinary witches,” I said. “They’re Bright Borns. They’re part vampire.”
“Magic will out, vampire blood or no vampire blood.” Sarah took another bite of shortbread. “I still don’t see why you interrupted our vacation because Philip engaged in a little bit of time-bending. I’m sure it was harmless.”
“Because Diana’s anxious, Sarah, and she wanted you to make her feel better,” Agatha said, her tone suggesting this was perfectly obvious.
“Goddess save us, not again,” Sarah said, flinging her hands in the air in frustration. “I thought you were over being afraid of magic.”
“Maybe for myself, but not for the children,” I said.
“They’re babies!” Sarah said, as though this were sufficient reason to cast worry aside. “Besides, you have lots of space and too much furniture. They may break things. So what?”