Chapter 4

In the kitchen, the witches were sharing more tea around a huge butcher block table, and making a dent in the shortbread while Diana and Sarah continued to learn about the O'Connelly witches. The kitchen was a pleasing mix of high-end modern conveniences and traditional touches like a large wood-burning fireplace and a brick oven. An over-sized granite island provided plenty of room for food preparation and seats for family to eat, or just hang out with the cook.

Diana's appreciation was clear on her face as she looked around, and Sarah leaned over and whispered, "I know. We need to redo the kitchen at the house in Madison."

"Well if you put in a brick pizza oven like that one, I guarantee I'll visit regularly!"

Caitlin laughed. "My kids love that. And having grown up in America, I have to admit, it's my favorite food too…. It's not easy to get a pizza delivered here so I learned to make it myself. To me, it's the-"

"Food of the gods," Diana said at the same moment Caitlin did. They both laughed.

"I'm beginning to think you and Sarah may be long-lost relatives," Nora chuckled.

Diana finished fixing a mug of tea to her exacting specifications of milk and sugar. After taking a sip, she moved on to her next question. "I learned about being a weaver in the sixteenth century from a powerful witch who was also a weaver. Later my weaver's cords were absorbed into me." Diana held out her hands so they could see the colored lines that snaked along her fingers.

"That's interesting. I wonder why none of us has a similar manifestation," Caitlin asked.

"It may be something to do with the Book of Life," Sarah said. "It went into Diana and disappeared off the pages when she put three long-lost pages back into it."

After sharing a little more of that story, Diana asked, "Do you also see the fibers that make up the world and use them when you do magic?"

Brigid nodded. "Yes, we can all see them if we concentrate on it. When the little ones are first learning to use their magic, we have them work with the threads they can see. But then they progress on to using words, and then simply intention. I haven't seen actual weaver's cords in many, many years. Not since my great-grandmother showed me hers. They had been handed down from her great-great-grandmother who had gone to London to study with others like her."

"Could that have been in the late fifteen hundreds?" Diana asked.

Brigid frowned slightly, thinking. "Yes, it may have been, given it was my five, no six times grandmother. And we are a family with longevity."

Ciara jumped in. "That was Maeve Ò Conghalaigh. She went to London in about 1560, I think. She was a great healer as well as a powerful witch."

Diana nodded enthusiastically. "I ask because when I was studying with Goody Allsop, she said they had lost contact with the Irish weaver. I never heard her name, but I think Goody worried she may have been killed, in a witch hunt or some other way. She may have been your ancestor."

"Yes, that's very likely, I think." Brigid said. "There were not that many weavers in Ireland outside of our family."

"I think I can confirm it," Ciara said. "Goody Allsop's name appeared in Maeve's diary that I read a while ago. She lived a long time."

Brigid added, "There were not as many witch hunts in Ireland, as in England, Scotland or America. We've always lived alongside all kinds of magical creatures here. And mostly gotten along."

"True, that," Caitlin chuckled.

"Maeve was the first to cast the cloaking spell," Brigid said, "because she returned from London with a husband who told her that she and her family would be targeted by the Congregation, or others who heard of her powers and wanted to understand them. Or control them. Or worse."

"She was probably smart to do that," Sarah said quietly. "There are so few weavers left in the world because the danger was real."

"Do you have more family records? Or other historical papers? I know I ask a lot of questions, it's the historian in me-," Diana started to apologize.

"No need to explain. Ciara is much the same," Nora said, sending her niece an affectionate smile.

"Guilty," she said. "It's a historian's vice. It's why I've spent so much time in the attics, combing through the family records at Castle O'Connelly. But the ones from that period are a little confusing, and some must be missing, I'm afraid. That is, unless Maeve's daughters really lived almost two hundred years!"

Diana's eyes widened but she did not give voice to what was going through her mind. Instead she asked if she could look at the family records. "Another vice of a historian. I'd love to see what you have. I just can't pass up the chance to look at old documents."

Cait laughed. "I on the other hand have never given them a second thought. But I'm curious too now. And I guess it really is time for me to step up and take my place in the long line of O'Connelly witches. As you keep telling me, Mom. And Gram."

"It is time, Caitlin Danu," her grandmother said, using her full name. The middle name of each of the witches in the family honored one of the Celtic goddesses. "In many generations our family has not seen a witch with the breadth and depth of your powers. I know you would prefer to make your own way without magic as much as you can. But I've seen a change coming for a while now. That will no longer suffice. Our world, the world of creatures, is changing. And your destiny is catching up with you."

"Yes. It seems he has," she said with a rueful smile. And sighed. "But centuries of hiding from the Congregation can't just change overnight. Even when…" she was interrupted as her twin sons came running into the kitchen.

"Cookies! Mama! We want cookies," they said, talking over each other.

"And cookies you shall have, mo chlan mhac!" she laughed. "It will only cost you a kiss apiece!"

Brendan and Caelin threw themselves into her open arms, each offering a loud, wet kiss as payment. It was clearly a game they played often. Áine had gone to retrieve more of the shortbread cookies and brought a pitcher of cold milk with her as Caelin was lifted onto his mother's lap, and Nora picked up Brendan. Once they were settled with a cookie and some milk, the witches resumed their discussion.

"I ran from my powers all my life, before I met Matthew," Diana said. "My parents spellbound me as a child to protect me from the Congregation. They also feared the Congregation but unfortunately they were already well in their sights. And they were killed when I was seven. I tried to deny my magic but it leaked out eventually. Even then, it took me time to get over hiding. Sarah and my Aunt Em had tried for years but I was stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn, just—" Caitlin halted as both her cousins and mother snorted or laughed out loud. Her grandmother merely gave her a reproving look. "All right, maybe I'm stubborn. But in my defense, it's always for good reason."

"Claimed by every stubborn person in history," her mother chuckled.

"I know what you are all thinking. But I couldn't take the chance of disclosing anything about us to Baldwin. Not after we successfully avoided the Congregation for centuries! How could I just invite them into our family circle? You must see that…."

"Letting the Congregation know you were weavers would definitely have been a mistake," Diana said. "Before it was reformed, Peter Knox was the head witch on the Congregation."

"A nasty piece of work," Sarah said with feeling.

"Right," Diana agreed. "And he, and the vampires, would have wanted to bring you under their control, to study you. Or have your powers at their disposal. What you wanted would not have mattered. One of the vampires, Gerbert, kept a powerful witch in thrall for centuries. He and another witch kidnapped me, to try to learn about my power. Matthew and Baldwin rescued me."

"But not before the other witch, Satu Jarvinen, subjected her to an opening spell," Sarah said angrily.

The other witches gasped, knowing how painful and dangerous such a thing would be.

"We knew some of the things the Congregation did, in the name of keeping their Covenant among all creatures," Nora said quietly. "But that is unconscionable. And beyond wanting to understand our powers, they would have objected to the fact we've intermarried with daemons. Many times," Nora said. "The O'Connelly's never accepted that idea of not mixing with other species."

"You have?" Sarah asked. "But all of the children have been witches?"

"No," Nora said. "Two of my sons are daemons. Finn is an architect. And Rory is a musician."

"Rory O'Neill? The rock star?" Diana glanced at Sarah who silently mouthed 'Told you.'

"Rock stars and serial killers," Nora laughed. "That's what they say."

"So far we only have one of the first!" Brigid added with a smile. "But many poets, bards and storytellers over the centuries. Not all are artistic though. I married my daemon nearly sixty-five years ago. And he's a financier."

"Hugh McCormac?" Diana asked. Brigid smiled and nodded and Diana filed that away to share with Hamish. Hugh McCormac, though elderly now, was known as Ireland's Warren Buffet.

"Having daemons in your family explains a lot," Diana said. "Daemon DNA is what allows some witches and vampires to reproduce biologically."

"Maybe that explains it," Caitlin murmured. Pink crept up her cheeks. "I didn't take any precautions with Baldwin because, well, as far as I knew vampires only reproduce through siring. Not—not the usual way…."

"Along with Miriam, Marcus and Chris, Matthew has been studying creature genetics," Diana said. "Would you all be willing to share this with them? They've been hard at it for a few reasons, not the least is that we all know it is only a matter of time before humans learn about our existence." She wasn't willing to share information about blood rage just yet.

Áine nodded. "I've been telling everyone that. There has to be a genetic component that differentiates the various types of creatures. One ill-conceived do-it-yourself DNA kit and the curtain will be lifted." She looked at Diana. "Count me in. And I think the rest of the family can be convinced."

"I'll ask Miriam and Chris—"

Miriam arrived in the kitchen, Chris on her heels. "Sorry, Diana. I heard someone mention me and my curiosity was piqued."

"Vampire hearing is everything you've heard, and more," Diana told the other witches. "I think you will want samples from at least a few of the family here. It will be … informative. Áine has volunteered."

"I'm studying alternative medicine," the younger witch explained. "Along with herbalism and biochemistry. Two Masters and a doctorate at once. It's why I look so tired. I'd love the chance to see what you are doing."

Chris smiled at her. "I always like a new point of view. You're more than welcome, Áine."

"You can test me, too," Caitlin said, rising and handing her son to Ciara. "And now, I think it's time for me to beard the lion—"

"We have a wion?" one of the twins immediately asked.

"I wanna see him!" the other followed.

"Shhh," their grandmother Nora said. "Let Mama try to tame that lion first."

Cait noticed the de Clermont group in the room exchange a skeptical look as she made to leave.

Caitlin steeled herself to see Baldwin as she moved through the house. The vampires had been meeting with her brothers and Dimitrios in the dining room but when she got there, the room was empty. She opened her third eye to locate him and was startled when he silently appeared behind her.

"Oh! You gave me a fright," she said, then took a deep breath to calm her beating heart. His closeness, the strong masculine scent, a combination of leather, wood smoke, and the deep forest at night still affected her, after nearly five years. "Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yes," he said. "That's why I'm here. Ready to be bearded."

She shot him a side-glance. "That vampire hearing is going to be annoying, I imagine."

He shot her a lop-sided smile. "Can we walk outside? It stopped raining. And I'd prefer the whole house not listen in."

Caitlin nodded. "I'll get my jacket."

Baldwin needed only the cashmere sweater he was wearing but Cait returned after donning a navy quilted jacket. She wrapped a scarf of heathery greens & blues around her neck as they walked in silence, until Baldwin knew they were beyond the distance any of the vampires could overhear.

Caitlin decided to grab the reins before she lost her nerve. "I know you're angry-"

"No. I'm not—" then caught her skeptical glance. "Well, at first but now I—I accept your choice," he said. "I've spent two thousand years protecting my family. No matter how hard it was. I can hardly blame you for doing the same."

She felt relief wash over her. "Thank you, Baldwin. If it had only been me…. And I hadn't been a 'fucking witch," she said, mimicking his accent again perfectly.

"I'd like to never hear those words again," he said holding up both hands in surrender. "Things change, Cait. In this case, my opinion has changed… more than I thought possible."

A block of ice she hadn't realized she'd built around her heart began to melt a little. There was a bench next to the lake and she walked over and sat down. She gestured for him to sit too. "You know, I really was just about to tell you I'm a witch. When I overheard you that night. If I had, how do you think you would have taken it?"

He shook his head. "Not well. Not then. I never had more than passing relationships with a human since I was reborn. And never… a witch."

She took a measure of comfort that he differentiated then from now. And waited for him to say more.

"Caitlin Danu O'Neill—"

"You remembered my whole name," she said, surprised.

"I remember everything about you. Your middle name honors the Celtic earth mother, the goddess of wisdom." When she looked puzzled, he chuckled. "I am very old and spent centuries in the territories where the Celts settled. I know all the old gods of the Tuatha da Danaan."

She was impressed, and wondered how old he actually was but didn't want to distract him from what she hoped was coming next.

He reached out and took her hands in his. They were cool to the touch but not from the weather. Baldwin cleared his throat nervously and continued.

"Caitlin, I want you to know that you can trust me to care for you, and our—our sons. I never expected to have any biological children but there is no mistaking it. Just a look was enough—"

"Yes, they're basically clones of you," she said with a smile. "I carried them for nine months. You think at least one of them would have the decency to look like me!"

That brought a genuine smile to Baldwin's face. But then he knew he needed to get to the most important thing. "I will care for you and them. I will always protect you and our sons. I'll set aside funds for you, and my people will ensure you have the best security money can buy—"

"What?" she asked, not following his train of thought. "Your people…? Brendan and Caelin are safe, Baldwin. And we don't need money. You must know my family is… is quite wealthy. And I have money of my own besides the family money—"

"But I will take over for the boys and you now. You are mine, and will want for nothing, ever—"

"And where are you in this scenario, Baldwin? At a desk in New York, writing a monthly check?"

"Please understand me, Caitlin. I'll—I'll visit once in a while. I'll want to watch over all of you—and see the boys as they grow. And… see you. But this, you being a witch, it complicates things."

"And that's a problem because… why? I thought the Covenant was overturned. Almost two years ago—"

"It was. But the de Clermont family, we hold a storied position among vampires still. We're the most important family among our kind and well, we already have Matthew married to a witch. And I'm the head of the family. This- this would not go down well with most vampires, who are still missing the old ways-" He looked out over the lake as though expecting words to appear in the distances that would help him explain.

But Caitlin stood up. "One 'fucking witch' in the family is enough, is that it?"

"No! That's not what I meant! Hear me out—"

"I've heard enough, Baldwin," she said frostily. "You do not need to give me or the boys anything. We're fine. I'm more than capable of protecting them." She spun on her heels and stormed toward the house. As she went, she circled her right hand in the air and thrust it back toward Baldwin whereupon the clouds over his head released a deluge of rain, immediately soaking him to the bone. He looked up then shook his head viciously to slough off the rain water in his eyes and nose. And growled.

A minute later, Baldwin entered the house through a rear door that led to a hall that passed the sitting room off the kitchen that Ysabeau and Marthe had taken as their place because it was especially cool and somewhat private. Diana, Sarah, Phoebe and Hamish were with them, and Diana and her aunt were sharing what they had learned from the O'Connelly witches. Until Baldwin passed the open double doors of the room.

Phoebe looked surprised and glanced out the window. "It's raining again?"

"No," Baldwin spat. "Only above my head."

The others all gaped open-mouthed as he continued past the door. "The fucking rain followed me all the way to the fucking house!" And he stalked off to find a towel and some dry clothes, trailing water behind him.

"She is a skilled witch," Marthe said quietly.

"And a good judge of character," Ysabeau added.

"Baldwin is more like an American every day," Hamish said, which had Sarah and Diana turn toward him in confusion.

"You can count on him to do the right thing. But only after he's tried all the wrong ones first," the daemon said smugly.

As Baldwin passed the 'war room,' Philippe called to him. "In a minute," he growled. "I need dry clothes."

"Clearly his discussion with Caitlin did not go as well as I'd hoped," Philippe murmured to his other son.

Matthew turned toward the window, giving his back to the others in the room, not wanting them to overhear. Marcus and Fernando were looking at the computer screen with Dmitris and Patrick. "He… cares about her," he whispered to Philippe, attempting to keep his step-brother's secret. "And those boys. Why won't he just say that?"

Philippe looked askance at Matthew. "First, let us not put lies between us, Matthaios. He craves the witch. Always has. And second… Baldwin never does anything the easy way. You should know that by now."

"Because he's always trying to surmise what you would do. And do the same."

Philippe sighed. "So it has always been."

"Matthew, you need to hear this," Marcus called and he and Philippe ended their discussion and went to the others.

"We're tracking Ciara's location," Patrick said, pointing to a blue dot on the on-screen map.

"She's in Norway?" Matthew asked, eying the screen.

"Yes. We told you we have an… informant. She went to meet up with them. Ciara handles most of our 'undercover' work. She has the strongest shape-shifting ability in our family."

Marcus looked to his father. "We have to get their blood samples to the lab, Matthew. We haven't seen powers like this among any witches before. Except Diana."

"And shape-shifting is not one she's evidenced, yet."

Patrick frowned. "I'm not yet sure giving you blood samples is such a good idea—"

"Too late. Nearly every female in your family has already agreed to donate to the cause," Marcus said with a grin, having overheard the kitchen discussion from afar. They all turned as Baldwin entered at vampire speed, wearing dry clothes but with hair still wet.

"What's the news?" he asked immediately, to avoid any questions about why he'd been soaking wet a few minutes earlier. The Tempus Conduci had done a thorough search of Sept-Tours that day looking for bombs or other signs of intrusion at the de Clermont seat.

"Nothing," Dimitrios said, glancing at Patrick and Conor.

"We searched every inch of the main building and all the outbuildings. No bombs or anything else that looked suspicious," Patrick said, his frustration showing.

"I told you we need to do the search," Baldwin said. "Matthew and me. No one knows Sept-Tours better than us."

"I'll go too," Marcus said.

"No," Matthew and Baldwin said together. Then Baldwin added, "If something were to happen, the family will need you as its head—"

Marcus' eyes widened, and then he looked to Philippe.

"I have already told Baldwin and Matthew, I cannot remain among you. This is a… highly unusual situation."

"Does Ysabeau know," Marcus asked in a near-whisper. As always, his concern for his beloved grandmother rose to the top of his mind.

"She does," Philippe assured him.

"Back to the problem at hand," Patrick said, "we did the most thorough search possible and had help from other Tempus Conduci. And the best technology. We know what we're doing," he said emphatically. He ran a hand through his nearly-black hair and looked at Dimitrios. "Is it possible they would have another means to deliver a bomb?"

"Like what? Fighter jets?" Baldwin scoffed. "These are vampires we're talking about. Mostly ancient ones. They'd not use such modern technology—"

"Are we sure?" Matthew murmured, then looked surprised he'd been overheard. "I don't mean fighter jets but perhaps something like shoulder-launched missiles? That kind of weapon is easy to obtain in the dark reaches of the underworld. Where Benjamin and his children have likely thrived-"

"And as usual, the men in the family are overlooking the most likely explanation," Ysabeau said as she opened the doors and walked in. An entourage of witches followed her, including Diana, Sarah, Caitlin, and Áine. Miriam, Hamish, Jack, Phoebe and Chris hovered just outside the door, having seen the witches moving en masse to the war room.

"As you know, I always appreciate a crowd, my love," Philippe greeted his wife. His smile was only for her but no one missed the soul-deep love beneath it.

"Of course, Philippe," she said. "But you need to listen now rather than dazzle the throng as you are wont to do."

Her assertiveness pleased him. It was a good sign she had adapted to his absence after so many years of grief. The new family members had healed her in ways decades of solitude never could. It did his heart good.

"You are thinking like vampires," Diana said.

"And as usual, forgetting the other creatures involved," Agatha added.

Baldwin glared at her but Agatha ignored it as she had learned to do when they both served on the Congregation.

"Meaning…?" Matthew asked.

"Meaning that this is not solely about vampires, or the de Clermonts," she said. "Your enemies don't just want to destroy your family. They are angry about the way the Congregation has been reformed. And the fact the Covenant was overturned."

Baldwin took her meaning first. "You think witches and daemons are working with the vampires?"

"Well, I cannot think of a single daemon who is angry about either the Convenant ending or the Congregation at this time. But the witches, yes."

Philippe looked at his sons. "That may explain why we cannot find any evidence of a bomb or weapon at Sept-Tours. It may be enchanted—"

"Similar to what Peter Knox did at the facility at—" Diana stopped herself, not wanting to remind Philippe of his captivity. "Where Benjamin had Matthew. Only now we may be up against a witch with even stronger powers, and deeper hatred. I don't know why Sidonie von Borcke is as hateful as she is, but she has only grown more angry since we reformed the Congregation."

"Loss of power," Matthew said. "Now three species share less jurisdiction over the creatures of the world. Before, the vampires had the upper hand but the witches were close behind."

"And daemons were an afterthought," Baldwin said. "No offense, Agatha."

She glared at him in response, and he gave her a half-smile in return.

"What are you suggesting we do differently?" Philippe asked.

"Another search. The witches need to go. And I will go with them," Ysabeau said. "I know the every corner and hiding place—"

"Absolutely not," Matthew said. "I built Sept-Tours. I'll search and Baldwin too. If one of the witches wants to come along to sense any magic that may be in use—"

Many voices responded at once, arguing, agreeing, scoffing at his scenario, voicing their own suggestions. Philippe turned to Marcus. "This is what comes of introducing democratic concepts into a vampire family," he said.

Marcus reddened, wanting to argue despite centuries of deference to his grandsire.

"I like it," Philippe continued. "More discussion generally yields better decisions. Something I've learned since I died."