Deborah Harkness - A Discovery of Witches

“He will call you when he wants to talk to you.” She took great care placing a twig with turning leaves still attached to it among the white and gold flowers.

“I’m not calling Matthew, Ysabeau. I need to speak to my aunt.”

“The witch who called the other night?” she asked. “What is her name?”

“Sarah,” I said with a frown.

“And she lives with a woman—another witch, yes?” Ysabeau kept putting white roses into the vase.

“Yes. Emily. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Ysabeau said, eyeing me over the blooms. “They are both witches. That’s all that matters.”

“That and they love each other.”

“Sarah is a good name,” Ysabeau continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “You know the legend, of course.”

I shook my head. Ysabeau’s changes in conversation were almost as dizzying as her son’s mood swings.

“The mother of Isaac was called Sarai—‘quarrelsome’—but when she became pregnant, God changed it to Sarah, which means ‘princess.’”

“In my aunt’s case, Sarai is much more appropriate.” I waited for Ysabeau to tell me where the phone was.

“Emily is also a good name, a strong, Roman name.” Ysabeau clipped a rose stem between her sharp fingernails.

“What does Emily mean, Ysabeau?” Happily I was running out of family members.

“It means ‘industrious.’ Of course, the most interesting name belonged to your mother. Rebecca means ‘captivated,’ or ‘bound,’” Ysabeau said, a frown of concentration on her face as she studied the vase from one side and then the other. “An interesting name for a witch.”

“And what does your name mean?” I said impatiently.

“I was not always Ysabeau, but it was the name Philippe liked for me. It means ‘God’s promise.’” Ysabeau hesitated, searching my face, and made a decision. “My full name is Geneviève Mélisande Hélène Ysabeau Aude de Clermont.”

“It’s beautiful.” My patience returned as I speculated about the history behind the names.

Ysabeau gave me a small smile. “Names are important.”

“Does Matthew have other names?” I took a white rose from the basket and handed it to her. She murmured her thanks.

“Of course. We give all of our children many names when they are reborn to us. But Matthew was the name he came to us with, and he wanted to keep it. Christianity was very new then, and Philippe thought it might be useful if our son were named after an evangelist.”

“What are his other names?”

“His full name is Matthew Gabriel Philippe Bertrand Sébastien de Clermont. He was also a very good Sébastien, and a passable Gabriel. He hates Bertrand and will not answer to Philippe.”

“What is it about Philippe that bothers him?”

“It was his father’s favorite name.” Ysabeau’s hands stilled for a moment. “You must know he is dead. The Nazis caught him fighting for the Resistance.”

In the vision I’d had of Ysabeau, she’d said Matthew’s father was captured by witches.

“Nazis, Ysabeau, or witches?” I asked quietly, fearing the worst.

“Did Matthew tell you?” Ysabeau looked shocked.

“No. I saw you in one of my visions yesterday. You were crying.”

“Witches and Nazis both killed Philippe,” she said after a long pause. “The pain is recent, and sharp, but it will fade in time. For years after he was gone I hunted only in Argentina and Germany. It kept me sane.”

“Ysabeau, I’m so sorry.” The words were inadequate, but they were heartfelt. Matthew’s mother must have heard my sincerity, and she gave me a hesitant smile.

“It is not your fault. You were not there.”

“What names would you give me if you had to choose?” I asked softly, handing another stem to Ysabeau.

“Matthew is right. You are only Diana,” she said, pronouncing it in the French style as she always did, with the emphasis on the first syllable. “There are no other names for you. It is who you are.” Ysabeau pointed her white finger at the door to the library. “The phone is inside.”

Seated at the desk in the library, I switched on the lamp and dialed New York, hoping that both Sarah and Em were home.

“Diana.” Sarah sounded relieved. “Em said it was you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call back last night. A lot happened.” I picked up a pencil and began to twirl it through my fingers.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Sarah asked. I almost dropped the phone. My aunt demanded we talk about things—she never requested.

“Is Em there? I’d rather tell the story once.”

Em picked up the extension, her voice warm and comforting. “Hi, Diana. Where are you?”

“With Matthew’s mother near Lyon.”

“Matthew’s mother?” Em was curious about genealogy. Not just her own, which was long and complicated, but everyone else’s, too.

“Ysabeau de Clermont.” I did my best to pronounce it as Ysabeau did, with its long vowels and swallowed consonants. “She’s something, Em. Sometimes I think she’s the reason humans are so afraid of vampires. Ysabeau’s straight out of a fairy tale.”

There was a pause. “Do you mean you’re with Mélisande de Clermont?” Em’s voice was intense. “I didn’t even think of the de Clermonts when you told me about Matthew. You’re sure her name is Ysabeau?”

I frowned. “Actually, her name is Geneviève. I think there’s a Mélisande in there, too. She just prefers Ysabeau.”

“Be careful, Diana,” Em warned. “Mélisande de Clermont is notorious. She hates witches, and she ate her way through most of Berlin after World War II.”

“She has good reason to hate witches,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I’m surprised she let me into her house.” If the situation was reversed, and vampires were involved in my parents’ death, I wouldn’t be so forgiving.

“What about the water?” Sarah interjected. “I’m more worried about the vision Em had of a tempest.”

“Oh. I started raining last night after Matthew left.” The soggy memory made me shiver.

“Witchwater,” Sarah breathed, now understanding. “What brought it on?”

“I don’t know, Sarah. I felt . . . empty. When Matthew pulled out of the driveway, the tears I’d been fighting since Domenico showed up all just poured out of me.”

“Domenico who?” Emily flipped through her mental roster of legendary creatures again.

“Michele—a Venetian vampire.” My voice filled with anger. “And if he bothers me again, I’m going to rip his head off, vampire or not.”

“He’s dangerous!” Em cried. “That creature doesn’t play by the rules.”

“I’ve been told that many times over, and you can rest easy knowing I’m under guard twenty-four hours a day. Don’t worry.”

“We’ll worry until you’re no longer hanging around with vampires,” Sarah observed.

“You’ll be worrying for a good long time, then,” I said stubbornly. “I love Matthew, Sarah.”

“That’s impossible, Diana. Vampires and witches—” Sarah began.

“Domenico told me about the covenant,” I interjected. “I’m not asking anyone else to break it, and I understand that this might mean you can’t or won’t have anything to do with me. For me there’s no choice.”

“But the Congregation will do what they must to end this relationship,” Em said urgently.

“I’ve been told that, too. They’ll have to kill me to do it.” Until this moment I hadn’t said the words out loud, but I’d been thinking them since last night. “Matthew’s harder to get rid of, but I’m a pretty easy target.”

“You can’t just walk into danger that way.” Em was fighting back tears.

“Her mother did,” Sarah said quietly.

“What about my mother?” My voice broke at the mention of her, along with my composure.