Chapter 3

Matthew stood at a tall, wide window in their suite that overlooked the lake. The blue-gray of the water reflected a heavy winter sky, interspersed with dark shadows where trees were mirrored in the water. Through the fine rain, the scene had the look of a moody watercolor and it made him recall a Turner he'd bought centuries ago. Probably in one of the Clairmont House bedrooms. Or closets. He'd have to ask Phoebe where it was.

"This is what the Irish call a soft day, isn't it?" Diana said as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Mmm," he murmured.

"Strange day, seeing Philippe again. Finding out Baldwin has a… softer side. Or at least he did for a short while about five years ago. And possibly—probably two little boys."

"Definitely two little boys. Every vampire in the room could tell. I'm still trying to process it." He turned around and gifted Diana with a small, sly smile. "Especially the fact Baldwin was involved with a witch, years before I was." He turned around and hugged Diana fiercely.

"I hadn't thought of that," she murmured. "Probably not the best time to point it out to him though."

A knock on the door interrupted them and Matthew called out, "Enter."

Marcus stuck his head. "Sorry, Matthew," he said. "Philippe asked us to meet him in the 'war room.' That's what he called it. I think it's just the formal dining room. He asked for you, Baldwin, Fernando and me."

Matthew nodded. "Mon coeur—"

"Go. I want to talk with the witches. They… intrigue me. There's something about them…."

She made sure her children settled into their naps, even Rebecca who rarely took one. And in a few minutes, Marthe arrived as if she had been summoned, her latest mystery novel in hand, and settled herself into a comfortable chair by the window.

Matthew stepped into the hallway just as Baldwin came out of his assigned room across the hall. They nodded to each other and began to walk.

"Baldwin—"

Baldwin stopped. "Yes, Matthew," he said in the long-suffering way that generally drove his brother mad.

"I don't mean to interfere but… this thing about Caitlin. And the boys. It must be quite a shock. If I can help, just let me know."

"I'm sure I'll manage," he said shortly. Matthew expected him to stalk off but he stayed rooted in place, and added. "It's complicated."

Matthew nodded. "Yes. Maybe even more complicated than when I met Diana. We only had the Book of Life to worry about." He saw Baldwin swallow hard. His brother's heartbeat had accelerated, and his blood raced through his veins, at least by vampire standards. And suddenly Matthew knew. "You're craving her," he said, barely above a whisper.

Baldwin snorted. "Not true," he said curtly. "I've craved her every moment since I met her. And now it turns out, she's a … witch."

The witches had gathered in the kitchen, with Sarah having already toured the still room. "It's pretty much state of the art, Diana," she said. "Updated the way you always ask me to. I can see the benefits."

One of the older women chuckled. "My granddaughter was lucky that this property wasn't on the historical buildings registry. It was too damaged, and just overlooked among the plethora of old properties in Ireland. So she could make all the modern renovations she wanted. Caitlin's a designer—and one of her brothers is an architect- so they were extensive. I live in the family home—Castle O'Donnelly- and we are far more limited in what we can do. My still room looks pretty much the same as it did in my great-grandmother's day. Right down to the old cauldron."

"You're a witch too?" Diana said.

"Brigid McCormac," she said by way of introduction. She noted Diana's surprise, and then waved a hand in front of her chest. "I forgot to uncloak. It's been a bit hectic since we arrived."

Her daughter laughed. "Ya think?" she said with an American accent only slightly tinged with the lilt of Ireland. She made the same gesture. "I'm Nora O'Neill."

"That's a neat trick you do," Sarah said. "I couldn't tell you're witches until you did it."

"The witches in our family have used this shield spell to stay hidden from the Congregation, and others, for centuries. Our ancestor first cast it in the fourteenth century when the Congregation were extending their reach to Ireland and using their positions to dictate to other creatures of their own kind. Our ancestors didn't… see any benefit to that."

"And it still works? She must have been a powerful witch," Sarah said.

"She was. Our line goes back to the four tribes of Tara," Brigid said. "The Ò Conghalaigh witches were known throughout Ireland in the Middle Ages. The name was anglicized as O'Connelly. Later their fame spread to England, Scotland and Wales. But we were not safe as their reputation spread. The Congregation, even some other witches… were a danger to them."

Diana nodded as Ciara brought a tea kettle to the table. She sighed happily, seeing sugar and milk already available. "The Book of Life tells us that the most powerful witches were in danger for a long time. It's why there are almost none left. May I ask… were any of the witches in your family weavers?"

Áine was sitting next to Diana and looked puzzled. "What's a weaver?"

"It's a witch who can create spells, not just use those that were created by others," Diana explained. "They often have more than one element in their arsenal too, such as fire AND air, or water AND fire."

Áine looked to her grandmother. "Gram—"

Brigid smiled. It was hard to see this lovely woman as the grandmother of the younger witches. She looked no more than fifty or so. And her daughter looked only a few years older than her own daughter Caitlin.

"It has been many years since I heard that term!" Brigid said. "Not since my grandmother and her sisters used to gather at Castle O'Connelly when I was a girl."

"So it's possible some of the witches in your family were weavers," Diana said. "Few are left, although my son seems to have a lot of power and may be a weaver. And we know baby Margaret is. But I've only met three others. One was my father, one is… she no longer can use magic. And the other was in the 16th Century."

Brigid nodded. "You're a time-walker," she said, appreciatively. "And yes, we have had 'weavers' as you call them throughout our history."

Caitlin placed a plate of shortbread cookies fresh from the oven in the middle of the large butcher block table and sat down on the other side of Diana. "Weavers. I may be wrong but—" , she paused and looked to her grandmother.

"No, you are correct, Cait," Brigid said. Then she looked at Diana. "All of the witches in the Ò Conghalaigh line are weavers."

Sarah stopped with a cookie halfway to her mouth. "All of you?"

In a room nearby, the vampires were gathering with Philippe, Patrick and Conor and another older man the new arrivals had not yet met. Marcus and Fernando were there when Matthew and Baldwin finally arrived together. Conor closed the thick wooden doors behind them while Matthew joined the others at a long polished wood table where wine and whiskey bottles had been placed on a silver tray along with crystal glassware. Several computers and large monitors were set up on a sideboard.

The older man spoke. "I know Philippe. And I know who you all are. I'm Dimitrios. I am charged to lead the advisory council for the Tempus Custodi."

Fernando murmured. "That must be difficult, Philippe. Letting someone else lead."

Philippe's eyes glinted with humor. "Not as much as you might expect."

"We have information to share with all of you, and must decide on a course of action. Before it's too late," Dimitrios said firmly.

Uncharacteristically Baldwin had been pacing the room, looking at the computers, and then stalking to the end of the long table where he poured himself a glass of wine. "So do that. Share what you know so we can come up with a plan." Impatience rolled off him in waves.

"My son, sit down," Philippe said firmly. He locked eyes with his eldest living offspring and waited for Baldwin to comply. Satisfied when Baldwin threw himself into a chair and grabbed the wine bottle again, he said, "We know the names of five of Benjamin's children and grandchildren who survived. At least one other is involved but we do not know his name. Or her name. Benjamin did not share his pedigree with the Congregation. Or anyone else as far as we can tell."

"Names?" Matthew asked.

"Only two use the name Fuchs. Devlin and Valerian. Three others use the surname Fox. Benedict, Philippe and… Lucifer. The latter is known as Luc. He sometimes goes by Luc Renard, we've discovered. We don't yet know the name of the other one. Or if there might be even more, allies who are not family members. Unfortunately Benjamin sired more than the rest of the family put together. Do any of you recall meeting vampires with those names?"

Marcus frowned. "I met a vampire named Philippe Fox a while ago, maybe a year or a little more. The first name, caught my attention. It was at a concert. He seemed to know me. And he asked me if I had seen Gallowglass recently."

"Gallowglass?" Matthew asked. "He's always had an extensive social circle of other vampires. But he'd be able to scent one of Benjamin's children."

"Much less likely if it's a grandson or great-grandson though," Baldwin said.

"Has anyone heard from Gallowglass lately? I haven't, not for nearly two years. Since the twins were born," Matthew said. He looked at Fernando.

"Not recently. He kept in touch for a few months but then… just dropped off. It's not like he hasn't done that before though when…. he needed to. I wasn't concerned," Fernando said.

"Vampires don't do well outside of their families, or communities," Philippe said. "Bad things happen when they try to live on their own."

"He did what he felt he had to do," Fernando said, defensively.

"Or what someone told him he had to do," Philippe retorted.

"Something you would know about, right, Philippe?"

Marcus watched the interplay between Fernando and his grandfather curiously. "Who told Gallowglass to distance himself from us? And why?"

Matthew interrupted him. "That's not germane at this point. Philippe, what do you mean 'bad things.' Do you know something about Gallowglass?"

"Nothing relevant. Though I worry it's easy for a vampire alone – without clan or family—to be taken into up into another community. But let's not dwell on it now. Please continue the briefing, Dimitrios."

The older man exhaled. "We learned from an 'informant' that they hold profound animosity to the de Clermonts. All of them, and all of your close friends, too. And the Knights of Lazarus-"

"What specifically don't they like about the Knights? Just that we're connected to the de Clermonts?" Marcus asked.

"It seems there is grave concern with many of the changes you've made as Grand Master," Dimitrios said.

Marcus' hackles rose immediately. "More than could generally be expected to long overdue changes like admitting women?"

"And humans and witches and daemons," Baldwin said. "I've heard the complaints from some of the older members."

"Well, hardly anyone has raised it to me," Marcus fumed.

"I imagine they felt their complaints would fall on deaf ears," Baldwin replied.

"I listen to every knight who has ever come to me," Marcus retorted. "But many, like Giles and Russell, and a lot of the others supported the changes. They said it was past time for them."

"Not Giles or Russell," Baldwin said. "Or Pierre or Guilhermo Olivera. None of them complained to me. The very oldest vampires though, the original Knights, whined incessantly. About the changes and… the new Grand Master Matthew chose."

Matthew glared at Baldwin. "Marcus has done far more and better than I'd hoped. The Knights are revitalized—"

"Agreed," Baldwin said, eliciting raised eyebrows from Matthew and Marcus. "But that doesn't change the fact the few original members left were irate. And that's an understatement of epic proportion."

"Who? Michel Auger? Walfrid?" Matthew asked. "Neither has been involved for a hundred years. Walfrid hasn't been for centuries."

Baldwin took a sip of wine. "Doesn't change the fact they are still Knights, Matthew. They were enraged when the Covenant was overturned. And when I gave up the de Clermont seat to Diana. I— got an earful from both until I stopped taking their calls. Along with Gerbert and Domenico, of course."

Philippe pounded a fist in the table. "Gerbert is an old enemy. Probably Domenico as well. They were never a part of the Knights because I never trusted either of them. But Michel and Walfrid are two of my oldest friends."

"You've been gone for seventy years," Matthew said quietly. "Things change."

Philippe glared at Matthew momentarily, then he sighed. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, all true. Generally for the better but—not always."

Baldwin poured wine into a new glass and handed his father the goblet, and they all waited for their patriarch to collect himself.

"All right. Let's focus on the task at hand," Philippe said. "We must consider everyone who might be helping Benjamin's spawn. No sacred cows. It's possible someone currently in the family or among our closest retainers is helping them."

"Someone was always feeding information to Gerbert but I never discovered who," Matthew said. "He knew the babies were born before I even had a chance to tell Baldwin."

"I never learned who Gerbert's source was," Baldwin said, shaking his head. "I wondered if he had bugged Sept-Tours and the other residences. It's why I have them all swept regularly by my security people."

"Likely it's the same person," Philippe said, then he held up a hand when he saw surprise on his sons' and grandson's faces. "I'm not omniscient. Even now."

Fernando snorted. "I suppose you're wondering if it's me," he said to Philippe.

"No, Fernando. I know you are not the traitor. You have been a loyal friend of the family over many centuries. Starting with my son Hugh. And now as Matthew's second-in-command in his scion."

Fernando was struck silent by the de Clermont patriarch's words. Matthew watched, knowing they were centuries late but still meaningful. "So who then?"

"Who would have information about the family's activities, like the birthday celebration for my grandchildren? Or the celebration of your rebirth, Matthew? That was the first event they tried to target but they could not arrange all the pieces in time. But probably not someone within the circle at present. I think it's unlikely someone could hide their duplicity so completely. One of you would overhear something suspicious at some point."

"A lot of the knights were invited to this birthday celebration," Baldwin said. "And probably Matthew's too. How well do you know all the new ones, Marcus?"

"Every single one was known well to me, or another of the existing knights. We accepted no strangers, Baldwin."

"It could still be one of them."

Marcus shook his head but remained silent.

"It could also be someone we've trusted a long time," Matthew said.

"This Gallowglass has to be on the list," Dimitrios said. "I assume someone in the family keeps in touch with him. He would know about your activities."

"We sent him an invitation to the children's birthday celebration," Matthew said. "Like always since he left, he didn't respond."

"Not responding at all seems odd for Gallowglass," Philippe said. "But… he can hold a grudge a better and longer than most. It was centuries before he returned to France after Hugh's death."

"Gallowglass would never side against the family. Or align with anyone associated with Benjamin," Matthew said emphatically.

"Does anyone know where he is now?" Patrick asked.

"If he's not in touch with Fernando, I don't know who else." Matthew said. "Unless…"

"Jack," Baldwin and Marcus said simultaneously.

Matthew went to the sliding door they had closed earlier and stepped out into the hallway. He went to the foot of the stairs and spoke quietly, "Jack. Are you here?"

A moment later the young man he considered his oldest son appeared at the top of the stairs. "Need me, Dad?"

"Yes, come down. We have a question for you."

Jack entered the dining room and Matthew closed the door again. Jack looked around the room and swallowed down his increasing anxiety. Matthew laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Breathe," he murmured. "Nothing is wrong."

Jack nodded and took a cleansing breath. It was a technique he'd learned from Matthew and Fernando, to stave off the blood rage he'd inherited from being sired through Ysabeau's line. Matthew had inherited it also, and it had taken him centuries to come close to taming it. Jack's blood rage was worse but he had made real progress very quickly.

"Jack, we're wondering where we can find Gallowglass," Baldwin asked quietly. "Have you heard from him lately?" He knew from past experience that anything that seemed like an attack could spur the boy's blood rage. His obvious attempt at control, and success, impressed his uncle once again.

"Yeah. He gets in touch every few weeks. Gallowglass is good that way. He just lets me know where he is and asks what I've been doing…"

Matthew nodded. "Did he mention where he's been lately?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "Scandinavia. Biking around with some friends. Last I heard they were going to an island off the coast of Norway. He said its actually called 'Devil's Island,'" Jack laughed. "Gallowglass said it's an appropriate name for the crew he's hanging with."

Philippe smiled and nodded at the boy. "Thank you, Jack. You can go back to whatever you were doing now."

"Just sketching. The witches here are…. very pretty." He blushed, surprised that he'd let that slip out.

He left and Matthew closed the door, then groaned. "I was afraid that Áine had caught his attention—"

Marcus laughed. "Oh, yeah."

Patrick and Conor exchanged a worried look. "Áine's barely nineteen. She's hinishing a master's and working on a doctorate because she's just plain brilliant. And she helps out the tempus custodi when she's needed. She's got no time to be involved with anyone now," Patrick said. "Let alone a vampire."

"You're sure about that, are you?" Marcus asked softly.

"We'll warn her off," Conor said. "She's our youngest cousin. She'll listen to us. No offense but, we don't need another vampire…." His voice trailed off and he glanced at Baldwin who was studiously ignoring him.

As they were speaking Dimitrios had gone to the computer and punched at some keys, bringing up a map. He gestured to it, inviting the others to look closer.

"Our latest intelligence is that at least some of Benjamin's family are staying on a private island. In the middle of Norway's south fjord. It's called Ulvsnesøy. Also known as "Devil's Island."