Jeanne scowled at the door that Antonin had left wide open. A loud hoot broke the tense silence inside the room.

Her mind was roiling. She had understood the problem the moment she'd laid eye on Walden. What had Antonin been thinking?

And what a fool she had been! She should never have allowed Antonin to return to his former life. Never! She would pay dearly for that mistake.

She sat down on one of the plain kitchen chairs, fuming. They were going to fucking kill her for that crime – for it was a crime, the most grievous one she could imagine an Ancient committing.

Or worse, she thought in sudden panic. They might kill him. Her only progeny, the only child she would ever have. She couldn't bear the thought. She'd been harsh to Antonin because she was afraid, she realised. She already regretted hitting him.

"Why did you kill Natalie?" Walden asked softly after a moment.

Jeanne glared at him indignantly. "I didn't kill the damn girl, you idiot!" Of course she bloody well hadn't. It was expressly forbidden – anything even remotely susceptible to be linked to the Ancients was prohibited. That included brutal murder. Besides, she cared little where the boy chose to stuff his… Well, what she meant was that she entertained no romantic feelings toward Antonin. She wasn't jealous of the women he frequented. She was simply being protective of him, that was all. Like any good mother would be. "I had someone erase her memory. I had to. He told her too much. He told her his real name, for fuck's sake! The girl has a half-brother who is a wizard. You can see how that might prove dangerous." She huffed in annoyance. The nerve of the man, to accuse her as if she were the one on trial! Antonin was the one who had broken the rules, not her.

"Quel putain de foutoir," Jeanne muttered crossly. She saw that Walden was about to tell her to calm down. "I know, I know. I understand, yes? I'm not made of wood, curse you. I understand why he turned you. I just wish he hadn't." She grimaced. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to think things through before you act, no matter the circumstances, no matter the apparent urgency of the situation. You do realise what he's done, don't you?" she asked earnestly. She wasn't making a fuss for no reason, he had to see that. Hell, she wasn't being near hysterical just for the sake of it.

"Yeah, I know," Walden said quietly. "I'm not an Ancient at all, am I?"

"No, I daresay you are not, mon pauvre chou. Unfortunately, you didn't have the spark, otherwise I would have made another petition to the Mother to have the next in line transcend you." Better two wizards than one, Jeanne had figured. Not only were they even rarer than the Muggles, and therefore even more of a prize, but their talents could come in handy. In her line of work, hiring wizards was costly. The one she'd found to teleport her here in all haste had charged her a scandalous amount of francs. "But who knows exactly what you are?" she mused. "No ordinary mortal has ever been turned by one of us." As soon as she said the words, the immensity of it all washed over Jeanne. Antonin had ended their line. No one would benefit from the invisibility gift ever again, and this would contribute to reducing their overall number in the future. What a waste. Jeanne had nothing personal against Walden, but what a bloody waste. The others would be furious, and rightly so.

"Right." Walden took a deep, unnecessary breath. Obviously, he wasn't yet used to the fact that he didn't breathe anymore. Her dead heart went out to him, despite the gravity of the situation. Somehow, she very much doubted that he'd asked for this. "Jeanne, we didn't call you because of me. Well, not only that," he amended.

Oh, par tous les dieux. What could possibly be worse than this? Jeanne steeled herself. No matter what he was about to say, she had to remind herself not to slap Walden. He would not survive. Mere vampires were not quite as strong as the Ancients were. "My fiancée was kidnapped," he said. "We've been looking for her for over two months, in vain. We need your help, Jeanne."

Fiancée? Jeanne hadn't known that he was engaged. When had that happened? Then again, at the risk of seeming heartless, the woman's disappearance was the least of her worries at present. She had to prepare for the upcoming meeting, to find a way to save Antonin's skin – and her own. And Walden's, if at all possible. "I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to." She rose from her seat, and the red-haired hag glared at her, her mouth set in a tight, disapproving line. Jeanne had almost forgotten that she was there, and she dismissed her again as she moved toward the door. There'd be time to worry about her later, to decide if she represented a danger to her people. Damn, how many people has Antonin told about us? Jeanne thought with an internal groan.

"I thought you might say that," Walden said dryly. Jeanne turned to face him. He thought he knew her, did he? She sniffed without bothering to reply. "But it'll be worth your time, I promise you." She arched an eyebrow and gestured for him to go on, more out of pity than real interest. "Evey - my fiancée, she was bitten by a werewolf, and she survived."

Jeanne looked at him impassively. So what? she thought derisively. She was well aware that women weren't supposed to survive a bite from one of the cursed beasts, but it hardly concerned her. She tried to tell Walden that, but he went on before she could open her mouth. "She was also bitten by Tony," he added with mock casualness. Jeanne wished he would stop calling him 'Tony'. It was such a lame nickname. 'Antonin' was much more distinguished, much more elegant. She backtracked slowly, focusing on the more relevant information in that sentence. Gods. How many people had he bitten? More importantly, why? The way Walden said it, it didn't sound as if Antonin had intended to drink the girl's blood. And, to be fair, biting was not turning. But still.

She blinked when she realised what Walden had just said. She'd zoned out as he was monologuing, but she must have misheard that last part. "She can turn invisible?" she repeated, dumbfounded.

Walden nodded, a sharp sliver of a smile on his face, a hint of smugness at having recaptured Jeanne's attention. "And she regenerates almost instantly."

"That's…" She paused, considering. Impossible. It's impossible. Antonin had turned Walden. He couldn't have transformed this girl as well, not in any meaningful way. Especially not by simply biting her. "Is she…a vampire?" Jeanne asked dubiously. "Is she dead?"

Walden flinched at that last question. "She's alive," he said stubbornly. "And she's not a vampire. No fangs, no blood cravings. She can walk in daylight. Her skin is the same colour it's always been, and it doesn't feel cold to the touch."

Well, this was curious. It might be worth investigating, but certainly not right now. Jeanne took a few steps forward and patted Walden on the arm in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "I'm afraid it will have to wait. But I will consider looking into it, if we survive the next couple of months," she added sourly.

"It can't wait!" Walden exclaimed. "Jeanne, Fenrir Greyback's got her. Have you heard of him? Do you have any–"

Jeanne prided herself in her ability to keep her cool in most situations. But this had already been a rough night. First she'd been terrified out of her wits when Antonin had called for her out of the blue, using their emergencies-only connection, then she'd discovered things that would very likely get her progeny killed, and now… "Greyback?!"

"He's the one who took her, yes," Walden said slowly, obviously surprised by her vehement tone.

Bordel de merde! Jeanne nearly threw her arms in the air in frustration. A fucking Wolf. That changed everything. "This is...this is beyond me. I must take it higher up. Dealing with those…creatures..." She shook her head in disgust but made no mention of the Wolves out loud. She didn't think Antonin knew about them yet, let alone these two. "But it'll have to wait until the meeting, Walden." Another noble name. It had a nice ring to it. Why did they all insist on shortening their rightful names?

Concentre-toi, imbécile, she chided herself. "If I force my…colleagues to attend another meeting before the planned one," Jeanne continued, "it would make things even worse. Many of them despise these compulsory gatherings."

Walden looked confused. "Meeting? What meeting?"

"Our decennial meeting. On Halloween night. Didn't Antonin mention it?" she asked with a frown. He spoke so freely to everyone that Jeanne had assumed the whole Order of the Phoenix knew about it by now.

"First I'm hearing of it," Walden said.

"Well, do make sure that he remembers it. You'll need to attend as well, I suppose. But I must warn you: they may decide to have you executed. Both of you." And myself, she added mentally. The Ancients were few as it was, but the offence was grievous.

Walden nodded, but he didn't look particularly happy at her concession. "Halloween's in two months," he grumbled. "Are you sure you can't–"

"No, I cannot," Jeanne cut him off sharply. She was already thinking about the arguments she would present. If Greyback was involved, it would hopefully make the others more amenable toward the other…matter. Yes, it might work. Find a scapegoat, and divert the others until they forgot about Antonin's little…gaffe. "Well," she went on crisply, "I'm counting on you to remind him. He knows where and when. Formal dress code." She moved toward the door. "Oh, and do let him know that I didn't harm that cute little mortal of his. I wouldn't want there to be any bad blood between us," she said wittily.

"Yeah, but wait. There's, um, another small issue... Tony can't feed off of me anymore. Do you–"

"For fuck's sake!" Jeanne yelled angrily, the last shreds of her patience finally dissipating. "Don't I have enough on my plate? Must I feed him myself? Sort this out on your own, burn you. Have the damned ginger serve as beverage, for all I care."

It was her turn to storm off into the night. She hoped that her overpriced sorcier-for-hire had waited as instructed to teleport her home.

"She's quite rude," Molly remarked as she closed the door behind the vampire. Thankfully, the woman hadn't awakened anyone when she'd shouted. If she'd disturbed Arthur's already shortened sleep, or Bill's…or if she'd alerted anyone to her presence, really, Molly would have been quite crossed.

"She's French," Walden said with a shrug.

Well, there was a lot to be said about Fleur, but at least her language was always correct. In Molly's presence, anyway. "What was that about Antonin not being able to feed off of you?" she enquired. "He's been drinking animal blood ever since you two joined the Order last year."

Walden proceeded to explain that Antonin had only been drinking animal blood to keep up appearances, but in fact needed to drink human blood, preferably at the source, although he didn't need to feed quite as often as Walden did. There was a lot that Molly had yet to discover, it seemed, about these mysterious Ancients. Should she really keep this all to herself? She would reflect upon the matter when she'd had a proper night of rest.

"In fact," Walden said hesitantly, "it's been months since he's had blood. Since…well, you know. He's not exhibiting any sign of hunger, but…" He trailed off, eyes downcast.

But if he was like other vampires in that regard, things could get messy if he didn't feed soon, Molly realised. "I wish you'd said something earlier," she scolded him. "The children are here, Walden."

"I know," he said abashedly. "I just…I forgot about it, I guess. I told him to find a solution, back when I first found out, but then…" He shook his head. He'd been too preoccupied by Evey, as Molly could have expected.

"Well, I'm off to bed now," she said firmly. "It's supposed to be painless, isn't it? I won't even wake up, if he's careful."

Walden gaped at her briefly. "Molly, I don't know if-"

"If he doesn't do it, I will force-feed him somehow. Believe me, I will."

Walden gave her the tiniest smile in reply. "I'll see to it that he does. I promise."

Before going upstairs, Molly quickly washed up the used tea cups and set the table for breakfast. When she was done, she noticed that Walden looked even gloomier than he did when he'd knocked on her bedroom door a few hours earlier. He was staring out the window, apparently lost in thought. "It seems that things are looking up at last," Molly said with all the cheerfulness she could muster – it was quite late, and her brief encounter with the foul-mouthed vampire had taken its toll on her. "And who knows," she added, holding back a yawn, "perhaps we'll rescue Evey before that meeting Jeanne was going on about."

"Aye, but in what condition will we find her, if we do?" Walden murmured tiredly, a sure sign that the sun would rise soon.

Molly couldn't think of a comforting reply.