Deborah Harkness - A Discovery of Witches

Hamish put a document in front of me. “This is a power of attorney, Diana. It authorizes me—or whoever occupies the position of seneschal—to act legally on your behalf.”

The power of attorney gave the abstract idea of timewalking a new sense of finality. Matthew fished a pen from his pocket.

“Here,” he said, placing the pen before me.

The pen’s nib wasn’t used to the angle and pressure of my hand, and it scratched while I put my signature on the line. When I was finished, Matthew took it and dropped a warm black blob on the bottom, then reached for his personal seal and pressed it into the wax.

Hamish picked up the next stack. “These letters are for you to sign, too. One informs your conference organizers that you cannot speak in November. The other requests a medical leave for next year. Your physician—one Dr. Marcus Whitmore—has written in support. In the event you haven’t returned by April, I’ll send your request to Yale.”

I read the letters carefully and signed with a shaking hand, relinquishing my life in the twenty-first century.

Hamish braced his hands against the edge of the table. Clearly he was building up to something. “There is no telling when Matthew and Diana will be back with us.” He didn’t use the word “if,” but it hovered in the room nonetheless. “Whenever any member of the firm or of the de Clermont family is preparing to take a long journey or drop out of sight for a while, it’s my job to make sure their affairs are in order. Diana, you have no will.”

“No.” My mind was entirely blank. “But I don’t have any assets—not even a car.”

Hamish straightened. “That’s not entirely true, is it, Matthew?”

“Give it to me,” Matthew said reluctantly. Hamish handed him a thick document. “This was drawn up when I was last in Oxford.”

“Before La Pierre,” I said, not touching the pages.

Matthew nodded. “Essentially, it’s our marriage agreement. It irrevocably settles a third of my personal assets on you. Even if you were to leave me, these assets would be yours.”

It was dated before he’d come home—before we were mated for life by vampire custom.

“I’ll never leave you, and I don’t want this.”

“You don’t even know what this is,” Matthew said, putting the pages in front of me.

There was too much to absorb. Staggering sums of money, a town house on an exclusive square in London, a flat in Paris, a villa outside Rome, the Old Lodge, a house in Jerusalem, still more houses in cities like Venice and Seville, jets, cars—my mind whirled.

“I have a secure job.” I pushed the papers away. “This is completely unnecessary.”

“It’s yours nonetheless,” Matthew said gruffly.

Hamish let me gather my composure before he dropped his next bombshell. “If Sarah were to die, you would inherit this house, too, on the condition that it would be Emily’s home for as long as she wanted it. And you’re Matthew’s sole heir. So you do have assets—and I need to know your wishes.”

“I’m not going to talk about this.” The memories of Satu and Juliette were still fresh, and death felt all too close. I stood, ready to bolt, but Matthew grabbed my hand and held fast.

“You need to do this, mon coeur. We cannot leave it for Marcus and Sarah to sort out.”

I sat back down and thought quietly about what to do with the inconceivable fortune and ramshackle farmhouse that might one day be mine.

“My estate should be divided equally among our children,” I said finally. “And that includes all of Matthew’s children—vampire and biological, those he made himself and any that we might have together. They’re to have the Bishop house, too, when Em’s through with it.”

“I’ll see to it,” Hamish assured me.

The only remaining documents on the table were hidden inside three envelopes. Two bore Matthew’s seal. The other had black-and-silver ribbon wrapped around it, a lump of sealing wax covering the knot. Hanging from the ribbon was a thick black disk as big as a dessert plate that bore the impression of the great seal of the Knights of Lazarus.

“Finally we have the brotherhood to sort out. When Matthew’s father founded the Knights of Lazarus, they were known for helping to protect those who could not protect themselves. Though most creatures have forgotten about us, we still exist. And we must continue to do so even after Matthew is gone. Tomorrow, before Marcus leaves the house, Matthew will officially give up his position in the order and appoint his son grand master.”

Hamish handed Matthew the two envelopes bearing his personal seal. He then handed the envelope with the larger seal to Nathaniel. Miriam’s eyes widened.

“As soon as Marcus accepts his new position, which he will do immediately, ” Hamish said, giving Marcus a stern look, “he will phone Nathaniel, who has agreed to join the firm as one of the eight provincial masters. Once Nathaniel breaks the seal on this commission, he’ll be a Knight of Lazarus.”

“You can’t keep making daemons like Hamish and Nathaniel members of the brotherhood! How is Nathaniel going to fight?” Miriam sounded aghast.

“With these,” Nathaniel said, wiggling his fingers in the air. “I know computers, and I can do my part.” His voice took on a fierce edge, and he gave Sophie an equally ferocious look. “No one is going to do to my wife or daughter what they’ve done to Diana.”

There was stunned silence.

“That’s not all.” Hamish pulled up a chair and sat down, knitting his fingers together before him. “Miriam believes that there will be a war. I disagree. This war has already started.”

Every eye on the room was directed at Hamish. It was clear why people wanted him to play a role in government—and why Matthew had made him his second in command. He was a born leader.

“In this room we understand why such a war might be fought. It’s about Diana and the appalling lengths the Congregation will go to in an effort to understand the power she’s inherited. It’s about the discovery of Ashmole 782 and our fear that the book’s secrets might be lost forever if it falls into the witches’ hands. And it’s about our common belief that no one has the right to tell two creatures that they cannot love each other—no matter what their species.”

Hamish surveyed the room to make sure no one’s attention had wandered before he continued.

“It won’t be long before the humans are aware of this conflict. They’ll be forced to acknowledge that daemons, vampires, and witches are among them. When that happens, we’ll need to be Sophie’s conventicle in fact, not just in name. There will be casualties, hysteria, and confusion. And it will be up to us—the conventicle and the Knights of Lazarus—to help them make sense of it all and to see to it that the loss of life and destruction are minimal.”

“Ysabeau is waiting for you at Sept-Tours.” Matthew’s voice was quiet and steady. “The castle grounds may be the only territorial boundary other vampires won’t dare to cross. Sarah and Emily will try to keep the witches in check. The Bishop name should help. And the Knights of Lazarus will protect Sophie and her baby.”

“So we’ll scatter,” Sarah said, nodding at Matthew. “Then reconvene at the de Clermont house. And when we do, we’ll figure out how to proceed. Together.”

“Under Marcus’s leadership.” Matthew raised his half-full wineglass. “To Marcus, Nathaniel, and Hamish. Honor and long life.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that,” Miriam said softly.

Marcus and Nathaniel both shied away from the attention and seemed uncomfortable with their new responsibilities. Hamish merely appeared weary.

After toasting the three men—all of whom looked far too young to have to worry about a long life—Em shepherded us into the kitchen for lunch. She laid out a feast on the island, and we milled around the family room, avoiding the moment when we would have to begin our good-byes.