the bed where Diana was sleeping, plowing through another inconclusive set of test results so that he and Chris could reevaluate their research strategy at tomorrow’s meeting. Given the late hour, he was taken by surprise when his phone’s screen lit up.
Moving carefully so as not to wake his wife, Matthew padded silently out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, where he could speak without being overheard.
“You need to come,” Gallowglass said, his voice gruff and low. “Now.”
Matthew’s flesh prickled, and his eyes rose to the ceiling as though he could see through the plaster and floorboards into the bedroom. His first instinct was always to protect her, even though it was clear that the danger was elsewhere.
“Leave Auntie at home,” Gallowglass said flatly, as though he could witness Matthew’s actions.
“Miriam’s on her way.” The phone went dead.
Matthew stared down at the display for a moment, its bright colors bringing a note of false cheer to the early-morning hours before they faded to black.
The front door creaked open.
Matthew was at the top of the stairs by the time Miriam walked through it. He studied her closely.
There was not a drop of blood on her, thank God. Even so, Miriam’s eyes were wide and her face bore a haunted expression. Very little frightened his longtime friend and colleague, but she was clearly terrified. Matthew swore.
“What’s wrong?” Diana descended from the third floor, her coppery hair seeming to capture all the available light in the house. “Is it Jack?”
Matthew nodded. Gallowglass wouldn’t have called otherwise.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Diana said, reversing her direction to get dressed.
“No, Diana,” Miriam said quietly.
Diana froze, her hand on the banister. She twisted her body around and met Miriam’s eyes.
“Is he d-dead?” she whispered numbly. Matthew was at her side in the space of a human heartbeat.
“No, mon coeur. He’s not dead.” Matthew knew this was Diana’s worst nightmare: that someone she loved would be taken from her before the two of them could say a proper farewell. But whatever was talking place in the house on Wooster Square might somehow be worse.
“Stay with Miriam.” Matthew pressed a kiss against her stiff lips. “I’ll be home soon.”
“He’s been doing so well,” Diana said. Jack had been in New Haven for a week, and his blood rage had diminished in both frequency and intensity. Matthew’s strict boundaries and consistent expectations had already made a difference.
“We knew there would be setbacks,” Matthew said, tucking a silky strand of hair behind Diana’s ear. “I know you won’t sleep, but try to rest at least.” He was worried she’d do nothing but pace and stare out the window until he returned with news.
“You can read these while you wait.” Miriam drew a thick stack of articles out of her bag. She was making an effort to sound brisk and matter-of-fact, her bittersweet scent of galbanum and pomegranate stronger now. “This is everything you asked for, and I added some other articles you might be interested in: all of Matthew’s studies on wolves, as well as some classic pieces on wolf parenting and pack behavior. It’s basically Dr. Spock for the modern vampire parent.”
Matthew turned to Diana in amazement. Once again, his wife had surprised him. Her cheeks reddened, and she took the articles from Miriam.
“I need to understand how this vampire family stuff works. Go. Tell Jack I love him.” Diana’s voice broke. “If you can.”
Matthew squeezed her hand without replying. He would make no promises on that score. Jack had to understand that his access to Diana depended on his behavior—and Matthew’s approval.
“Prepare yourself,” Miriam murmured when he passed her. “And I don’t care if Benjamin is your son. If you don’t kill him after seeing this, I will.”
In spite of the late hour, Gallowglass’s house was not the only one in the neighborhood that was still illuminated. New Haven was a college town, after all. Most of Wooster Square’s night owls sought a strange companionship, working in full view with curtains and blinds open. What distinguished the vampire’s house was that the drapes were tightly closed and only cracks of golden light around the edges of the windows betrayed the fact that someone was still awake.
Inside the house pools of lamplight cast a warm glow over a few personal belongings. Otherwise it was sparsely decorated with Danish Modern furniture made from blond wood accented with occasional antiques and splashes of bold color. One of Gallowglass’s most treasured possessions—a tattered eighteenth-century Red Ensign that he