to the agencies who will cooperate with us.”
“You’ll only hurt the investigation,” said Randall, “if you go talking devils and spirits.”
“We are dealing with a man,” said Ryan. “A man who walks and talks and wears clothes like other men. We have considerable circumstantial evidence to indicate he kidnapped and imprisoned Rowan. There is no need to bring in any chemical evidence right now.”
“In other words keep the blood samples under wraps,” said Mona.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “When this man is caught, then we can come forward with more details of the story. And the man himself will be living proof of what is alleged. Now Aaron has some things to say.”
Michael could see this was no pleasure for Aaron. He had been sitting silent throughout the meeting, beside Beatrice, who kept her fingers wrapped protectively about his arm. He was dressed somberly in dark blue, more like the rest of the family, as though he had put his old tweed style away. He looked not like an Englishman now but a southerner, Michael thought. Aaron shook his head as if to express some silent appreciation of what lay before them all. Then he spoke.
“What I have to say won’t come as a surprise to you. I have severed my connection with the Talamasca. Things have been done by members of our Order—apparently—which have violated the trust of the family. I ask that all of you now regard the Talamasca as a hostile agency, and do not give any cooperation to anyone claiming connection with it from now on.”
“This wasn’t Aaron’s fault,” said Beatrice.
“How interesting that you would say this,” said Fielding dourly. He had been all this time as quiet as Aaron, and his voice now commanded immediate attention, as it usually did. His brown suit with its pinstripe of pink seemed as old as he was. He seemed bound to exercise the privilege of the very old—to say exactly what he thought.
“You realize,” he said to Aaron, “that all this began with you, don’t you?”
“That’s not true,” Aaron said, calmly.
“Ah, but it is true,” said Fielding. “You were in contact with Deirdre Mayfair when she became pregnant with Rowan. You have…”
“This is inappropriate, and badly timed,” said Ryan. His voice was steady but uncompromising. “This family investigates everyone who becomes involved with it by way of marriage or even sometimes in casual social affairs. This man was, as much as I dislike to admit it, thoroughly investigated by us when he first came here. He is not connected with what happened. He is what he says he is—a scholar, who has been observing this family because of his access to certain historical documents regarding it, about which he has been painfully and fully candid from the start.”
“You’re sure of that?” asked Randall. “The history of the family as we know it—is the history which this man had given us, this Talamasca File on the Mayfair Witches as it is so audaciously called, and now we find ourselves embroiled in events which make sense in terms of this file.”
“Oh, so you two are in this together,” said Beatrice in a cold small voice, very unlike herself.
“This is preposterous,” said Lauren softly. “Are you trying to imply that Aaron Lightner was responsible for the events he documented? Good heavens, have you no memory of the things that you yourself have seen and heard?”
Ryan interrupted: “The Talamasca was thoroughly investigated in the nineteen-fifties by Carlotta,” he said. “Her investigation was hardly sympathetic. She was looking for legal grounds to attack the organization. She found none. There has been no grim conspiracy originating with the Talamasca against us.”
Lauren spoke up again, decisively, drowning out at once the other voices which struggled to be heard.
“There is absolutely nothing to be gained from pursuing this question,” she said. “Our tasks are simple. We take care of Rowan. And we find this man.” She looked at the others, one by one, first those to her right, then those to her left, then those across the table from her, and finally at Aaron. She went on:
“The historical records of the Talamasca have been of invaluable help to us in tracing the history of our family. Anything which can be verified has been verified without a single contradiction or flaw.”
“What the hell does that mean?” demanded Randall. “How do you verify nonsense like—?”
“All the historical facts,” said Lauren, “which have been mentioned in the narrative have been checked. The painting by Rembrandt of Deborah has been authenticated. Records