A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [219]
He pressed his mouth gently against mine, his breath full of cloves and spice. It took away the memories of La Pierre, and for a few moments I could close my eyes and rest in his arms. But an urgent need to know what would happen next pulled me back to alertness.
“So . . . what now?” I asked again.
“Ysabeau is right. We should go to your family. Vampires can’t help you learn about your magic, and the witches will keep pursuing you.”
“When?” After La Pierre, I was oddly content to let him do whatever he thought best.
Matthew twitched slightly underneath me, his surprise at my compliance evident. “We’ll join Baldwin and take the helicopter to Lyon. His plane is fueled and ready to leave. Satu and the Congregation’s other witches won’t come back here immediately, but they will be back,” he said grimly.
“Ysabeau and Marthe will be safe at Sept-Tours without you?”
Matthew’s laughter rumbled under me. “They’ve been in the thick of every major armed conflict in history. A pack of hunting vampires or a few inquisitive witches are unlikely to trouble them. I have something to see to, though, before we leave. Will you rest, if Marthe stays with you?”
“I’ll need to get my things together.”
“Marthe will do it. Ysabeau will help, if you’ll let her.”
I nodded. The idea of Ysabeau’s returning to the room was surprisingly comforting.
Matthew rearranged me on the pillows, his hands tender. He called softly to Marthe and Ysabeau and gestured the dogs to the stairs, where they took up positions reminiscent of the lions at the New York Public Library.
The two women moved silently about the room, their quiet puttering and snippets of conversation providing a soothing background noise that finally lulled me to sleep. When I woke several hours later, my old duffel bag was packed and waiting by the fire and Marthe was bent over it tucking a tin inside.
“What’s that?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Your tea. One cup every day. Remember?”
“Yes, Marthe.” My head fell back on the pillows. “Thank you. For everything.”
Marthe’s gnarled hands stroked my forehead. “He loves you. You know this?” Her voice was gruffer than usual.
“I know, Marthe. I love him, too.”
Hector and Fallon turned their heads, their attention caught by a sound on the stairs that was too faint for me to hear. Matthew’s dark form appeared. He came to the sofa and took stock of me and nodded with approval after he felt my pulse. Then he scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, the morphine ensuring that there was no more than an unpleasant tug on my back as he carried me down the stairs. Hector and Fallon brought up the rear of our little procession as we descended.
His study was lit only by firelight, and it cast shadows on the books and objects there. His eyes flickered to the wooden tower in a silent good-bye to Lucas and Blanca.
“We’ll be back—as soon as we can,” I promised.
Matthew smiled, but it never touched his eyes.
Baldwin was waiting for us in the hall. Hector and Fallon milled around Matthew’s legs, keeping anyone from getting close. He called them off so Ysabeau could approach.
She put her cold hands on my shoulders. “Be brave, daughter, but listen to Matthew,” she instructed, giving me a kiss on each check.
“I’m so sorry to have brought this trouble to your house.”
“Hein, this house has seen worse,” she replied before turning to Baldwin.
“Let me know if you need anything, Ysabeau.” Baldwin brushed her cheeks with his lips.
“Of course, Baldwin. Fly safely,” she murmured as he walked outside.
“There are seven letters in Father’s study,” Matthew told her when his brother was gone. He spoke low and very fast. “Alain will come to fetch them. He knows what to do.” Ysabeau nodded, her eyes bright.
“And so it begins again,” she whispered. “Your father would be proud of you, Matthew.” She touched him on the arm and picked up his bags.
We made our way—a line of vampires, dogs, and witch