“Goodness gracious, I had no idea I was that appealing.” Alexia waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Madame Lefoux joined the conversation. “If that is the case, why are you not equally welcoming to werewolves and vampires?”
“Because they are not born daemons. To be born with the eternal sin is not much more than to be born with original sin. The soulless suffer, as we all do, under the metaphorical cross, only for them there is no salvation. The vampires and werewolves, on the other hand, have chosen their path voluntarily. It is a matter of intention. They have turned their backs on salvation in a way far more reprehensible, because they once had excess soul. They could have ascended into heaven had they only resisted Satan’s temptation. Instead, they traded the bulk of their soul to the devil and became monsters. They are offensive to God, for only he and his angels are allowed immortality.” He spoke calmly, with no emotion, no inflection, and no doubt.
Alexia felt chilled. “Which is why you wish to see all supernatural folk dead?”
“It is our eternal crusade.”
Alexia did some calculations. “Over four hundred years or so. Commendably committed of you all.”
“A God-sanctioned purpose, to hunt and kill.” Madame Lefoux’s tone was full of censure, not unsurprising given her choices in life—she was a creator, an engineer, and a builder.
The preceptor looked from the Frenchwoman to Alexia. “And what do you think her God-given purpose is, Scientist Lefoux—a soulless creature whose only skill is in neutralizing the supernatural? Do you think she was not placed on this earth as a tool? We can give her purpose, even if she is only a female.”
“Now, wait just a minute there!” Alexia remembered once complaining to Conall, before their marriage, that she wanted something useful to do with her life. Queen Victoria had made her muhjah, but even with that gone, killing vampires and werewolves for a sect of religious fanatics was not precisely what she had been hoping for.
“Have you any idea how rare you are, a female of the species?”
“I am beginning to get the impression that I am more rare than I had thought.” Alexia looked about suddenly, feigning physical discomfort. “Do you think I might visit a convenient bush, before we depart for the long drive back?”
The Templar looked equally discomforted. “If you insist.”
Alexia tugged at Madame Lefoux’s sleeve and dragged her off behind the tomb and down the side of the hill a little ways to a small copse of trees.
“It took Angelique this way,” commented Madame Lefoux, referring to her former lover. “During her pregnancy, she always had to… well… you know.”
“Oh, no, that was merely a ruse. I wanted to discuss something with you. That ankh around his neck, did you notice that it had been repaired?”
Madame Lefoux shook her head. “Is that significant, do you think?”
Alexia had never told Madame Lefoux about the mummy nor the broken ankh symbol. But in her experience, it was the hieroglyphic sign of a preternatural.
So she quickly moved on. “I think the terra-cotta man in the tomb was a preternatural, and the woman was a vampire, and the offering of meat was for the werewolves.”
“A harmonious culture? Is that possible?”
“It would be terribly arrogant of us British to think England was the first and only progressive society.” Alexia was worried. If the Templars comprehended the significance of the ankh, she was in more danger than she had thought. They would find a way to turn her into a tool, living or dead.
“I do hope Floote managed to send that message to BUR.”
“Love note to your werewolf?” Madame Lefoux sounded wistful. Then she looked about the empty hillside, suddenly nervous. “I think, my dear Alexia, we should head back to the carriage.”
Alexia, enjoying the countryside and the intellectual advantages afforded by their ancient surroundings, had not registered the lateness of the hour. “Ah, yes, you may be correct.”
It was, unfortunately, well into nighttime before they were even halfway back to Florence. Alexia felt awfully exposed in the open-topped carriage. She kept her parasol close and began to wonder if this whole excursion was not an attempt by the Templars to use her as some kind of bait. After all, they fancied themselves great supernatural hunters and might very well risk her safety simply to draw local vampires out. Especially if the Templars had enough foolish pride in their own abilities to believe there was little true peril. The moon