the Christmas vacation. There won’t be any staff around except for security,” I said.
To my surprise, Matthew nodded. He was going to let me help.
“Will you be all right on your own?” I didn’t want to fuss over him, but I needed to know. Matthew had already suffered through one separation. He nodded.
“What shall we do about the children?” Matthew asked.
“They need to stay here, with Sarah and Ysabeau and with enough of my milk and blood to feed them until I return. I’ll take Fernando with me—no one else. If someone is watching us and reporting back to Benjamin, then we need to do what we can to make it look as though we’re still here and everything is normal.”
“Someone is watching us. There’s no doubt about it.” Matthew pushed his fingers through his hair.
“The only question is whether that someone belongs to Benjamin or to Gerbert. That wily bastard’s role in this may have been bigger than we thought.”
“If he and your son have been in league all this time, there’s no telling how much they know,” I said.
“Then our only hope is to possess information they don’t yet have. Get the book. Bring it back here and see if you can fix it by reinserting the pages Kelley removed,” Matthew said. “Meanwhile I’ll find Benjamin and do what I should have done long ago.”
“When will you leave?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. After you go, so I can make sure that you aren’t being followed,” he said, rising to his feet.
I watched in silence as the parts of Matthew I knew and loved—the poet and the scientist, the warrior and the spy, the Renaissance prince and the father—fell away until only the darkest, most forbidding part of him remained. He was only the assassin now.
But he was still the man I loved.
Matthew took me by the shoulders and waited until I met his eyes. “Be safe.”
His words were emphatic, and I felt the force of them. He cupped my face in his hands, searching every inch as though trying to memorize it.
“I meant what I said on Christmas Day. The family will survive if I don’t come back. There are others who can serve as its head. But you are its heart.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and Matthew pressed his fingers against my lips, staying my words.
“There is no point in arguing with me. I know this from experience,” he said. “Before you I was nothing but dust and shadows. You brought me to life. And I will do whatever it takes to keep my heart safe from further harm.”
Sol in Capricorn
The tenth house of the zodiack is Capricorn.
It signifieth mothers, grandmothers, and ancestors of the female sex.
It is the sign of resurrection and rebirth.
In this month, plant seedes for the future.
—Anonymous English Commonplace Book, c. 1590, Gonçalves MS 4890, f. 14v
34
Andrew Hubbard and Linda Crosby were waiting for us at the Old Lodge. In spite of my efforts to persuade my aunt to stay at Les Revenants, she insisted on coming with Fernando and me.
“You’re not doing this alone, Diana,” Sarah said in a tone that didn’t invite argument. “I don’t care that you’re a weaver or that you have Corra for help. Magic on this scale requires three witches. And not just any witches. You need spell casters.”
Linda Crosby turned up with the official London grimoire—an ancient tome that smelled darkly of belladonna and wolfsbane. We exchanged hellos while Fernando caught Andrew up on how Jack and Lobero were faring.
“Are you sure you want to get involved with this?” I asked Linda.
“Absolutely. The London coven hasn’t been involved in anything half so exciting since we were called in to help foil the 1971 attempt to steal the crown jewels.” Linda rubbed her hands together.
Andrew had, through his contacts with the London underworld of gravediggers, tube engineers, and pipe fitters, obtained detailed schematics of the warren of tunnels and shelving that constituted the book storage facilities for the Bodleian Library. He unrolled these on the long refectory table in the great hall.
“There are no students or library staff on site at the moment because of the Christmas holiday,”
Andrew said. “But there are builders everywhere.” He pointed to the schematics. “They’re converting the former underground book storage into work space for readers.”
“First they moved the rare books to the Radcliffe Science Library and now this.” I peered at the maps. “When do the work crews finish for the day?”
“They don’t,” Andrew said. “They’ve been working around the clock to