Deborah Harkness - A Discovery of Witches

“That’s the Song of Songs,” Matthew observed. “‘You have wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse, you have wounded my heart with one of your eyes, and with one hair of your neck.’”

“The alchemists admired the same passage,” I murmured with a shake of my head. “It’s in the Aurora Consurgens, too.”

“Other accounts of Lilith are far less rapturous,” Miriam said in stern tones, drawing us back to the matter at hand. “In ancient stories she was a creature of the night, goddess of the wind and the moon, and the mate of Samael, the angel of death.”

“Did the goddess of the moon and the angel of death have children?” Sarah asked, looking at us sharply. Once more the similarities between old stories, alchemical texts, and my relationship with a vampire were uncanny.

“Yes.” Matthew plucked the reports from my hands and put them into a tidy pile.

“So that’s what the Congregation is worried about,” I said softly. “They fear the birth of children that are neither vampire nor witch nor daemon, but mixed. What would they do then?”

“How many other creatures have been in the same position as you and Matthew, over the years?” wondered Marcus.

“How many are there now?” Miriam added.

“The Congregation doesn’t know about these test results—and thank God for that.” Matthew slid the pile of papers back into the center of the table. “But there’s still no evidence that Diana can have my child.”

“So why did your mother’s housekeeper teach Diana how to make that tea?” Sarah asked. “She thinks it’s possible.”

Oh, dear, my grandmother said sympathetically. It’s going to hit the fan now.

Matthew stiffened, and his scent became overpoweringly spicy. “I don’t understand.”

“That tea that Diana and what’s-her-name—Marthe—made in France. It’s full of abortifacients and contraceptive herbs. I smelled them the moment the tin was open.”

“Did you know?” Matthew’s face was white with fury.

“No,” I whispered. “But no harm was done.”

Matthew stood. He pulled his phone from his pocket, avoiding my eyes. “Please excuse me,” he said to Em and Sarah before striding out of the room.

“Sarah, how could you?” I cried after the front door shut behind him.

“He has a right to know—and so do you. No one should take drugs without consenting to it.”

“It’s not your job to tell him.”

“No,” Miriam said with satisfaction. “It was yours.”

“Stay out of this, Miriam.” I was spitting mad, and my hands were twitching.

“I’m already in it, Diana. Your relationship with Matthew puts every creature in this room in danger. It’s going to change everything, whether you two have children or not. And now he’s brought the Knights of Lazarus into it.” Miriam was as furious as I was. “The more creatures who sanction your relationship, the likelier it is that there will be war.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. War?” The marks Satu burned into my back prickled ominously. “Wars break out between nations, not because a witch and a vampire love each other.”

“What Satu did to you was a challenge. Matthew responded just as they hoped he would: by calling on the brotherhood.” Miriam made a sound of disgust. “Since you walked into the Bodleian, he’s lost control of his senses. And the last time he lost his senses over a woman, my husband died.”

The room was quiet as a tomb. Even my grandmother looked startled.

Matthew wasn’t a killer, or so I told myself over and over again. But he killed to feed himself, and he killed in angry, possessive rages. I knew both of these truths and loved him anyway. What did it say about me, that I could love such a creature so completely?

“Calm down, Miriam,” Marcus warned.

“No,” she snarled. “This is my tale. Not yours, Marcus.”

“Then tell it,” I said tersely, gripping the edges of the table.

“Bertrand was Matthew’s best friend. When Eleanor St. Leger was killed, Jerusalem came to the brink of war. The English and the French were at each other’s throats. He called on the Knights of Lazarus to resolve the conflict. We were nearly exposed to the humans as a result.” Miriam’s brittle voice broke. “Someone had to pay for Eleanor’s death. The St. Legers demanded justice. Eleanor died at Matthew’s hands, but he was the grand master then, just as he is now. My husband took the blame—to protect Matthew as well as the order. A Saracen executioner beheaded him.”

“I’m sorry, Miriam—truly sorry—about your husband’s death. But I’m not Eleanor St. Leger, and this isn’t Jerusalem. It was a long time ago, and Matthew’s not the same creature.”

“It seems like yesterday to me,” Miriam said simply. “Once again Matthew de Clermont wants what he cannot have. He hasn’t changed at all.”

The room fell silent. Sarah looked aghast. Miriam’s story had confirmed her worst suspicions about vampires in general and Matthew in particular.

“Perhaps you’ll remain true to him, even after you know him better,” Miriam continued, her voice dead. “But how many more creatures will Matthew destroy on your behalf? Do you think Satu Järvinen will escape Gillian Chamberlain’s fate?”

“What happened to Gillian?” Em asked, her voice rising.

Miriam opened her mouth to respond, and the fingers on my right hand curled instinctively into a loose ball. The index and middle fingers released in her direction with a tiny snap. She grabbed her throat and made a gurgling sound.

That wasn’t very nice, Diana, my grandmother said with a shake of her finger. You need to watch your temper, my girl.

“Stay out of this, Grandma—and you too, Miriam.” I gave both of them withering glances and turned to Em. “Gillian’s dead. She and Peter Knox sent me the picture of Mom and Dad in Nigeria. It was a threat, and Matthew felt he had to protect me. It’s instinctive in him, like breathing. Please try to forgive him.”

Em turned white. “Matthew killed her for delivering a picture?”

“Not just for that,” said Marcus. “She’d been spying on Diana for years. Gillian and Knox broke in to her rooms at New College and ransacked them. They were looking for DNA evidence so they could learn more about her power. If they’d found out what we now know—”

My fate would be far worse than death if Gillian and Knox knew what was in my test results. It was devastating that Matthew hadn’t told me himself, though. I hid my thoughts, trying to close the shutters behind my eyes. My aunts didn’t need to know that my husband kept things from me.

But there was no keeping my grandmother out. Oh, Diana, she whispered. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?

“I want you all out of my house.” Sarah pushed her chair back. “You, too, Diana.”

A long, slow shudder started in the house’s old root cellar under the family room and spread throughout the floorboards. It climbed up the walls and shook the panes of glass in the windows. Sarah’s chair shot forward, pressing her against the table. The door between the dining room and the family room slammed shut.

The house never likes it when Sarah tries to take charge, my grandmother commented.

My own chair pulled back and dumped me unceremoniously onto the floor. I used the table to haul myself up, and when I was on my feet, invisible hands spun me around and pushed me through the door toward the front entrance. The dining-room door crashed behind me, locking two witches, two vampires, and a ghost inside. There were muffled sounds of outrage.

Another ghost—one I’d never seen before—walked out of the keeping room and beckoned me forward. She wore a bodice covered with intricate embroidery atop a dark, full skirt that touched the floor. Her face was creased with age, but the stubborn chin and long nose of the Bishops was unmistakable.