“You would know better than me,” I replied agreeably, determined not to fight with my mother-in-law. “My vampire etiquette is pretty sketchy. Witches—we just barge right in and head for the kitchen.”
Her worst fears confirmed, Ysabeau sailed between us lesser beings and into the house that had formerly been her home.
Once she was ensconced in a comfortable chair in the parlor, Ysabeau insisted everyone have a drink, and then she held the twins on her lap and embarked on a long conversation with each of them. A ringing phone interrupted it.
“Oui?” Ysabeau said, after drawing her bright red mobile phone out of a slender vintage clutch with a distinctive Bakelite handle shaped like a running greyhound.
Marcus crept closer to listen to the conversation on the other end, during what I, and the other warmbloods in the room, perceived as a very long silence.
“Ah. That is excellent news.” Ysabeau smiled. “I expected no less of Phoebe.”
Matthew’s face relaxed a fraction, and Marcus let out a shout of joy.
“Bee Bee!” Becca sang out her pet name for Phoebe.
“And she is feeding well?” Ysabeau paused while Freyja responded. “Persephone? Hein, I was never fond of that girl and her endless complaints.”
My eyes narrowed. In the not-too-distant future, Ysabeau and I were going to have a talk about things mythological. Maybe she would know the average height and weight of a fully grown griffin.
“Has Phoebe asked for me?” Marcus demanded of his grandmother.
Ysabeau’s long fingernail pressed into her grandson’s chest in a gesture of warning. I’d seen that same fingernail push its way into a vampire’s heart. Marcus grew still.
“You may tell Phoebe that Marcus is in excellent health, and we are finding ways to keep him occupied until she is returned to us.” Ysabeau made it sound as if Phoebe were a borrowed book. “Until Sunday, then.” She disconnected the line.
“Two whole days!” Marcus groaned. “I can’t believe I have to wait two whole days for more news.”
“You are fortunate to be doing this in the age of telephones, Marcus. It took more than two days for news to reach Jerusalem from Antioch when Louisa was made, I assure you,” Ysabeau replied, giving him a stern look. “You might attend to the Knights of Lazarus, instead of wallowing in self-pity. There are so many of them now, all quite young and inexperienced. Go and play.”
“What are you proposing, Grand-mère? That I lead them on a quest to the Holy Land? Have an archery tournament? Put on a joust?” Marcus asked, lightly mocking.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ysabeau said. “I hate jousts. There’s nothing for the women to do but gaze at the men adoringly and look decorative. Surely there’s a country to conquer, or a government to infiltrate, or an evil family to bring to justice.” Her eyes sparkled at the prospect.
“This is precisely how we ended up with the Congregation,” Marcus said, pointing an admonishing finger. “Think how much trouble that caused. We don’t behave like that anymore, Grand-mère.”
“Then it must be very dull to be a knight,” Ysabeau said. “And I shouldn’t worry about causing trouble. It seems to find this family no matter what we do. Something will happen any day now. It always does.”
Matthew and I exchanged glances. Sarah snorted.
“Has Diana told you about the griffin?” my aunt asked.
* * *
—
WITHIN THE HOUR, Apollo was perched on Ysabeau’s arm like one of Emperor Rudolf’s eagles. Though the griffin was about the same height, I suspected that his leonine hindquarters added considerable weight. Only a vampire could have held him aloft with such elegance. In spite of her modern clothing, Ysabeau handled the creature with the grace of a medieval lady going hawking.
Becca had elected to have Sarah and Agatha read her a story rather than play with the griffin. The rest of us were with Ysabeau to witness the rare sight of a griffin taking to the open air.
Ysabeau had a dead mouse in one hand, and the griffin’s complete attention. When Ysabeau lifted her arm, the griffin left his perch and soared above her. Quickly, Ysabeau tossed the mouse into the air.
Apollo swooped down and caught it in his beak, his tail streaming behind him. He returned to Ysabeau, and laid the trophy at her feet.
“Good boy!” Philip cried, clapping for added emphasis.
Apollo chortled something in response.
“Okay.” Philip seemed to understand what his griffin had said and picked up the mouse. He threw it with all his might. It landed about two feet behind him.