Learning that Evey could turn into a werewolf was enough to convince the Ancients that, even if she'd allowed it, and provided that she could, Evey shouldn't be made to bear children. She was too contaminated by the Wolves' blood. The vampires were now certain that any child of hers would turn out to be a monster.
Does that mean I'm a monster, too? Evey wondered.
She didn't give a fig about their opinion on the matter, of course. She had already decided that she didn't want children, and nothing that had happened in the last year – not even falling in love with Walden – had changed her mind. Which was a good thing, since he didn't want any, either. Being at odds over that specific topic would have been quite problematic, she imagined.
The Ancients had resolved not to look for Greyback themselves, but to assist the Wolves in their search for him, should they require it – should they allow it, more accurately. The werewolves were better equipped to find him, in any case. They would all be warned that no harm should come to Greyback, considering his connection to Evey, until a full meeting could be convened to decide what to do with him.
Gorgo had promised again to research Evey's ancestry; she seemed to think that it would prove useful, and that it would somehow explain why Evey was…what she was. Well, if the Queen could spare the time, she was welcome to do it. Evey was a bit curious, she had to admit.
Finally, around midnight, they were allowed to take their leave. The Ancients assured them that they would not visit the manor house if neither Walden, Tony or Evey were present. That seemed perfectly obvious to Evey, but the fact that they needed to specify it made her wonder if they would ever be alone in here, or if they would constantly be feeling like Bilbo Baggins when he suddenly found himself entertaining thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard without forewarning.
Provided that they were ever allowed to live at the manor, of course.
Walden, Tony and Evey returned to the Burrow after the Ancients who could not fly had been Apparated wherever they wanted, except for Jeanne, who had taken off on her own, on foot. She hadn't said a word since her argument with Antonin.
Mrs Weasley was still awake when they stepped into the kitchen at the Burrow. She explained that she'd thought it best to leave the news of Evey's safe return for the next morning, so Walden and she could enjoy at least one night of peace before Evey was assailed by everyone else. She was deeply grateful to Mrs Weasley for that. Walden and Evey soon bid her and Tony goodnight, and then spent a long time doing things that didn't involve any talking.
"You should get some sleep," Walden told her after a while. Evey's head was resting on his chest, and she was tightly wrapped around him.
"Not yet," she said, holding back a yawn. "From now on, I'll sleep in the morning and early afternoon, so I can spend my nights with you."
"You don't have to do that," he murmured. "It's very lonely at night."
"Which is precisely why I'm doing this," she replied matter-of-factly. Had he really imagined that she would keep sleeping at night, only to spend an hour or two in his company before he was forced to rest?
Walden made no reply. "What are we going to tell the others," Evey went on, "about how I finally made it back here? I assume mentioning the Ancients is out of the question." It was improbable enough that they'd allowed Mrs Weasley to be part of their…conspiracy.
"We'll just say that we sneaked out at night for weeks to look for you and were finally able to track you down to Wales and rescue you. It's not too far from the truth, and in any case I doubt that they'll be pernickety about the details. They'll be too happy to have you back. I don't think Tony and I will be in trouble, considering that we were successful."
They were quiet for a moment, then Walden broke the silence. "Did Greyback hurt you?" he asked softly.
Evey considered her answer, but soon decided that, if there was one person she could trust with the unaltered truth, it was her fiancé. "Despite the fact that he knew it would harm him, yes, he did. He knew that there was an Ancient working for the Order, and he wanted his identity, for some reason." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I resisted for a long time, longer than I thought I would, but…" She'd betrayed Tony in the end. She'd failed him.
Walden turned to face her. "Hey, it's alright. It doesn't matter. Greyback would have found out sooner or later. Tony won't mind. After everything that's already happened, I don't think even the Ancients will be angry."
Gods, Tony. Evey still couldn't believe what she'd heard earlier. She'd wanted to punch Jeanne so badly. If Walden hadn't been holding on to her…
Her mind suddenly backtracked, and Evey quickly revised her plan to tell the unaltered truth when she remembered exactly what had been about to happen when she'd revealed Tony's identity, just before she'd transformed into a werewolf for the first time. There was no point in telling Walden, surely. Nothing had happened. It wasn't relevant.
"You were gone for so long," Walden continued, oblivious to her internal turmoil. "What happened? Were there other people with Greyback?"
"Oh, yes. A whole pack of them." Evey smiled, which was likely not something Walden had expected her to do, because he frowned. "Nice blokes, for the most part. Good thing they were there, otherwise I'm not sure how long I would have survived. Greyback and I would have probably killed each other after a week."
"Right. So you've been staying, alone, with a bunch of nice blokes, for over five months." His frown was gone, his face now expressionless.
Was he serious? Damn. It hadn't even crossed her mind that he might be jealous, of all things. She couldn't help a laugh. "That's adorable. Here I was, a captive to an immortal lunatic, subject to his whims, and you're worried that I might have slept with his minions?" She shook her head. Was he really worried that she'd have sex with anyone on purpose, while in captivity? Remembering, again, what Greyback had almost done, Evey suddenly didn't feel very amused by Walden's innuendo. "What should I say? You were allowed outside every night, free to do whatever you wanted, and Tony is probably the best wing man anyone could hope for."
"I would never–" He cut off abruptly, as though finally realising how insane he sounded. Better late than never, Evey thought wryly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's been…difficult."
"I know." She traced one his facial scars delicately. "It's been difficult for everyone. But we're here now. Alive." She chuckled quietly. "Ah, well, I am, anyway. I'm the odd one out, now." Abruptly, she grinned. "You know what? We should get married."
"Um…now?" Walden asked, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "I mean, I know we're engaged, but…"
"Not this very moment, no, but soon. You already died once, and I almost did, um, several times. Who knows what's in store for us in the future?"
"Good point. We'll have to ask Molly if she doesn't mind hosting our wedding, but I don't suppose she will. She's really fond of you, and she doesn't seem to hate me as much as she should."
"We could do it at your place," Evey pointed out. "Tony says it's well-protected."
"It is, but we're still not supposed to be outside. Molly only allowed our nightly trips because of you, and the rest of the Order doesn't know that she knew we were going out."
Evey sighed. "After everything we've been through, everything's that's happened…do we really have to stay here, under constant watch? Can't we just move to the manor house, live there? I don't see why we shouldn't, especially if we're getting married." She pushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. "Wal, you literally died for the Order. How could they possibly not trust you now? I think we've all made it quite clear that we're intent on destroying Voldemort and his allies."
He thought it over for a minute. "What about Tony?"
"He'd be coming with us, obviously," she said promptly. "He'd be miserable here. They tolerate him, but they will never accept him, not completely." Walden seemed relieved. "What, did you think I'd just abandon him?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. How much did he think she'd changed, exactly? "Just because I was forced to spend some time with Greyback means I've become like him, you know. And that connection we have is purely physical. I don't share his mind."
Walden gave her an odd look. "Does it mean that you feel everything he feels physically?"
Evey frowned uncertainly until she realised what he meant. "Oh gods, no, it's nothing like that. At least, I don't think so," she amended, biting her lower lip. "I don't…I mean, so far, I've never…" The places his mind wandered to, honestly. It had never even crossed Evey's mind. "It's been almost a year and a half since he bit me. I think it's safe to assume that I would have felt something by now, if it included that." Her only clue was that Greyback had never mentioned feeling anything from her, and Walden and she had been quite active earlier this year. Surely he would have said something about it, made some snide remark. Surely.
She huffed in frustration. There was no knowing for certain, but she had no desire to dwell on the disturbing thought. "Do you think we should look for him, too? I could go back to Wales, ask Scabior if he's received any messages."
"No way. You're not going back. I won't risk losing you again, V." He paused. "Who's Scabior?" he asked, too nonchalantly, avoiding her gaze.
Evey shot him a flat look. "My favourite lover among the pack."
Walden mumbled something inaudible under his breath, then met her eyes again. "Do you have any idea where Greyback might be?" he asked.
"None at all," she admitted. "Even Scabior had no idea where he'd gone to, and he's Greyback's second-in-command. All I know is that he hasn't returned since September. The others would have told me if he'd visited, even briefly."
Walden scowled slightly. "Did you turn the pack against him, somehow?"
"I manipulated them enough that Scabior allowed me to be rescued, but not enough that he would have released me himself." She shrugged. "I did what I could, but Greyback's hold on them is strong. And even if they wanted to leave the pack, they couldn't. He'd kill them. Even now…" Her throat constricted painfully. She had no idea when Greyback would return, but she was terrified of what he would do when he found out that she was gone.
"I'm sure they'll be fine," Walden said, though he didn't sound convinced. "It took him decades to assemble such a large pack; I don't think he'd destroy them just like that."
"I hope you're right," she said softly. "I also hope that the Wolves won't do anything rash when their leader realises I've told everyone about them. What if he decides to have the pack slaughtered to make sure that they don't reveal their secret?"
Walden's eyes widened. "You did what?"
She smiled sheepishly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Walden groaned. "Well, what's done is done, I guess."
"Agreed." She moved forward to kiss him. "Let's talk about something more positive, shall we? We have a wedding to plan."
Jeanne sat at the bar, glaring at her pint. Lilith, how she hated English pubs. She wished she were in France. She wished she were enjoying the smell of freshly-brewed coffee at a fancy café's terrace in Saint-Tropez. She wished she could at least drink the bloody tepid ale, instead of looking at it. She hadn't mastered that trick yet, though. To Jeanne's knowledge, Gorgo was the only Ancient who could ingest a full glass of anything that wasn't blood, and the Mother alone could eat solid food without being horribly sick. If Jeanne took even a sip from her pint, however, she would paint the bar crimson with blood, and most of the dirty floor as well.
To be fair, it might be an improvement of the current décor.
"Hello there," a slurring male voice said, too close to her for comfort. "Fancy another drink, love? Something a wee bit stronger, perhaps?"
Jeanne didn't bother to look at him. "Get lost, wanker." She wasn't in the mood for mincing her words.
Well, she never was.
"God, there's no need to be such a-"
Jeanne's head swivelled toward him. "There is no God, you imbecile," she snapped. He took an involuntary step backward as she glowered at him. Obviously, he hadn't noticed that her left eye was gone, because he took one good look at her face before scrambling away with his tail between his legs.
Ugh, mortals. She'd had little patience for her contemporaries, even when she was herself a mere human, but the older she got, the more difficult it was to keep her cool around them. Did they have to be so fucking stupid and disgusting and useless?
"Why not have some of this instead?" another voice offered. A metallic flask appeared in front of Jeanne's nose. Alice took a seat beside her. "It's good stuff. Harvested less than an hour ago." Jeanne accepted the flask without a word and took a long swallow. It was good stuff. It was hard to explain, but blood tasted different depending on a variety of parameters. Freshness was an obvious one, but also: blood type, age and general health of the donor, container (drinking at the source being ideal), temperature of the blood, season of the year and even the current lunar phase. (These last two were quite unfathomable, but they did make a difference.) And Antonin insisted that everyone's blood tasted the same to him. He probably didn't have a subtle palate. He had, after all, been raised in England. Scotland. Whatever. Same island.
"What are you doing here, daughter? I thought we were supposed to take the ferry together at dawn."
Right. They'd made plans to return to Calais and get on a train to Marseille the next day. Jeanne had completely forgotten about that. "Sorry," she muttered. "Slipped my mind."
"You seem upset, Jeanne," Alice noted. "I thought you'd be happier with the Mother's judgement. Everyone lives. Isn't that what you hoped for?" Her voice became softer. "Or is it because of what the fledgling said?"
Of course it bloody well was!
Jeanne wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to blame him for everything that had happened. But what if he was right? "Do you think I should have asked him? Really asked him, I mean, instead of speaking in riddles as I did. Should I have asked him if he wanted to become an immortal vampire?" She hesitated. "You didn't ask me. Did Imhotep…" She trailed off. She felt silly, talking about this. Who would refuse such a boon? It had never crossed her mind that Antonin might not want this. He'd been living – surviving, really – in dreadful conditions at Azkaban, surrounded by these horrible creatures, the stuff of nightmares. Jeanne hadn't expected their strange powers to work on her.
But did she have any right to make this sort of life-changing decision for Antonin? To decide for him that freedom and immortality, even riddled with suffocating guilt, were better than being imprisoned with it for a short time? Would he truly have preferred to die?
Did the fact that she hadn't had a choice mean no one else should have one?
Lilith, she hated doubting and second-guessing herself. Here she was, in a dingy pub on a dreary island, questioning life. At least the company was pleasant.
"None of us ever had a choice, child. That is how we do things. Gorgo marks us, then we die, and we are reborn." Alice put a strong hand on Jeanne's arm. "But none of us were ever permitted to return home. To find our loved ones, to tell them the truth. To be part of the world, to make a difference. Times are changing, Jeanne. For so long, we have been living in our own world, caring only about ourselves. Maybe it's time that changed, too. Maybe the fledgling and his friends will guide us into a new era. The Mother hinted that we may try to find more recruits."
That was all very fascinating, but it did nothing to soothe Jeanne's feeling of remorse and uneasiness regarding Antonin's speech. Was that truly how he felt? Or had it all been a ploy to smooth things over, to draw sympathy, to avoid punishment? He couldn't be that good an actor, could he? He'd even made the stupid hybrid girl cry, for fuck's sake.
"I wish I hadn't turned him," she said roughly. She loved him to bits, but he was proving to be a lot more trouble than she'd anticipated. "I've made a mess of things. I don't want things to change. I mean, seriously? The Ancients, a big, happy family?" She sniggered. "C'est ridicule."
Alice chuckled. "Ridiculous or not, it's happening." As Jeanne turned to her, Alice's expression soured. "But we have more pressing issues. Greyback needs to be dealt with, and I don't trust these brutish Wolves to do it properly."
"Greyback is not our problem, Alice. We had to retrieve the girl, and we made it happen. We should let the incompetent beasts handle their own messes."
Alice shook her head, her flaming red hair bouncing around her. "Things are changing," she repeated, "and I think that will include further involvement with the Wolves, at least for a while."
Jeanne snorted, but made no reply. What was next? Were they going to help the wizarding world defeat that would-be immortal, Lord Voleur-de-Mort or whatever his stupid name was? He wasn't even French, and he dared steal from Jeanne's native language to make up some preposterous, nonsensical name for pseudo-evil purposes? Sometimes she wondered if she shouldn't rip him apart for this outrage, if nothing else.
"Jeanne, I know you don't like the little girl, but she's important," Alice went on. "Whether she eventually bears children or not, she might be immortal and, like it or not, that makes her one of us. Besides, Antonin obviously cares about her, enough that he risked his life to save her."
Jeanne chose to ignore that remark about Antonin. She couldn't fathom his interest in the girl. "Her potential immortality makes her a fucking Wolf, as far as I'm concerned," she protested. "She can turn into one, Alice. Let them have her. If I'd known that she was a bloody monster, I wouldn't have helped rescue her in the first place."
Alice gave her a stern look. "Regardless of what she is, we can't allow Greyback to have her. We need the Wolves on our side, as many of them as possible. What if Greyback somehow convinces them that the girl belongs to them? Do you have any idea what a war between our two races would do to the world?" An open war between Ancients and Wolves would destroy the world as they knew it, most likely. Their existence would be revealed, and that alone would shatter the lives of common mortals. Hell, they might even destroy themselves in their panic. They certainly didn't need help massacring each other.
But so what? If it came to war, Jeanne would either kill all the Wolves, or die trying. She wasn't afraid of death, even now.
Alice seemed to have read her thoughts, as she so often did. "Always you think of yourself," she said chidingly, though not ungently. "Is that the world you want for Antonin, my dearest daughter? Or do you expect him to participate in this war, too? He may be a competent wizard, but his magic skills will amount to nothing in this fight. He has our strength and speed, but he has no training whatsoever. He will be the first to die."
Well. She hadn't considered that. Jeanne would gladly give her life for Antonin, but she couldn't bear it if anything happened to him. "We should get to work, then," she said briskly. "Marseille and the sweet smell of pastis will have to wait, I'm afraid."