A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [232]
Matthew stood, extending one hand. “Get up,” he said abruptly.
I slid my hand into his, expecting him to comfort me with a hug. Instead he pushed my arms into the sleeves of the blue parka and stepped away.
“You are a witch. It’s time you learned how to take care of yourself.”
“Not now, Matthew.”
“I wish we could let you decide, but we can’t,” he said brusquely. “The Congregation wants your power—or the knowledge of it at the very least. They want Ashmole 782, and you’re the only creature in more than a century to see it.”
“They want you and the Knights of Lazarus, too.” I was desperate to make this about something besides me and my ill-understood magic.
“They could have brought down the brotherhood before. The Congregation has had plenty of chances.” Matthew was obviously sizing me up and gauging my few strengths and considerable weaknesses. It made me feel vulnerable. “But they don’t really care about that. They don’t want me to have you or the manuscript.”
“But I’m surrounded by protectors. You’re with me—Sarah and Em, too.”
“We can’t be with you every moment, Diana. Besides, do you want Sarah and Emily to risk their lives to save yours?” It was a blunt question, and his face twisted. He backed away from me, eyes narrowed to slits.
“You’re frightening me,” I said as his body lowered into a crouch. The final, lingering touches of morphine drifted through my blood, chased away by the first rush of adrenaline.
“No I’m not.” He shook his head slowly, looking every inch a wolf as his hair swayed around his face. “I’d smell it if you were truly frightened. You’re just off balance.”
A rumbling began in the back of Matthew’s throat that was a far cry from the sounds he made when he felt pleasure. I took a wary step away from him.
“That’s better,” he purred. “At least you have a taste of fear now.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.
He was gone without a word.
I blinked. “Matthew?”
Two cold patches bored into the top of my skull.
Matthew was hanging like a bat between two tree limbs, his arms outstretched like wings. His feet were hooked around another branch. He watched me intently, little flickers of frost my only indication of the changes in his focus.
“I’m not a colleague you’re having an argument with. This isn’t an academic dispute—this is life or death.”
“Come down from there,” I said sharply. “You’ve made your point.”
I didn’t see him land at my side, but I felt his cold fingers at my neck and chin, twisting my head to the side and exposing my throat. “If I were Gerbert, you’d be dead already,” he hissed.
“Stop it, Matthew.” I struggled to break free but made no progress.
“No.” His grip tightened. “Satu tried to break you, and you want to disappear because of it. But you have to fight back.”
“I am.” I pushed against his arms to prove my point.
“Not like a human,” Matthew said contemptuously. “Fight back like a witch.”
He vanished again. This time he wasn’t in the tree, nor could I feel his cold eyes on me.
“I’m tired. I’m going back to the house.” After I’d taken only three steps in that direction, there was a whoosh. Matthew had slung me over his shoulder, and I was moving—fast—the opposite way.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Sarah and Em will be out here if you keep this up.” One of them was bound to sense that something was wrong. And if they didn’t, Tabitha would surely kick up a fuss.
“No they won’t.” Matthew set me on my feet deeper in the woods. “They promised not to leave the house—not if you screamed, no matter what danger they sensed.”
I crept backward, wanting to put some distance between me and his huge black eyes. The muscles in his legs coiled to spring. When I turned to make a run for it, he was already in front of me. I turned in the opposite direction, but he was there. A breeze stirred around my feet.
“Good,” he said with satisfaction. Matthew’s body lowered into the same position he’d taken stalking the stag at Sept-Tours, and the menacing growl