Lead Demon

Straf Them

“France needs me more than the conclave does at present. These recent murders of kings and queens do not please God.” The cardinal’s eyes sparked a warning. “Your queen will discover that soon enough, when she meets Him.”

“I am not here on English business, Cardinal Joyeuse. This is my wife, Stephanie” Seven held his father’s thin silver coin between his first and middle fingers. “We are returning home.”

“First I need to hear her account,” Michael said. He looked at me and lifted his eyebrows.

“We met by chance. I knew she was a witch, but the bond between us was undeniable,” Seven said. “Her own people have turned on her—”

A hand that might have been mistaken for a paw rose in a gesture commanding quiet. Michael returned his attention to his son.

“Matthaios.” Michael’s lazy drawl had the efficiency of a slow-moving whip, silencing his son immediately. “Am I to understand that you need my protection?”

“Of course not,” Seven said indignantly.

“Then hush and let the witch speak.”

Intent on giving Seven’s father what he wanted so that we could get out of his unnerving presence as quickly as possible, I considered how best to recount our recent adventures. Rehearsing every detail would take too long, and the chances that Seven might explode in the meantime were excellent. I took a deep breath and began.

“My name is Stephanie Bishop, and my parents were both powerful witches. Other witches killed them when they were far from home, when I was still a child. Before they died, they spellbound me. My mother was a seer, and she knew what was to come.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. I understood his caution. It was still difficult for me to understand why two people who loved me had broken the witches’ ethical code and placed their only daughter in magical shackles.

“Growing up, I was a family disgrace—a witch who couldn’t light a candle or perform a spell properly. I turned my back on the Bishops and went to university.” With this revelation Seven began to shift uneasily in his seat. “I studied the history of alchemy.”

“Stephanie studies the art of alchemy,” Seven corrected, shooting me a warning glance. But his convoluted half-truths wouldn’t satisfy his father.

“I’m a timewalker.” The word hung in the air between the three of us. “You call it a fileuse de temps.”

“Oh, I am well aware of what you are,” Michael said in the same lazy tone. A fleeting look of surprise touched Seven’s face. “I have lived a long time, madame, and have known many creatures. You are not from this time, nor the past, so you must be from the future. And Matthaios traveled back with you, for he is not the same man he was eight months ago. The Seven I know would never have looked twice at a witch.” The vampire drew in a deep breath. “My grandson warned me that you both smelled very odd.”

“Michael, let me explain—” But Seven was not destined to finish his sentences this evening.

“As troubling as many aspects of this situation are, I am glad to see that we can look forward to a sensible attitude toward shaving in the years to come.” Michael idly scratched his own neatly clipped beard and mustache. “Beards are a sign of lice, not wisdom, after all.”

“I’m told Seven looks like an invalid.” I drew a tired sigh. “But I don’t know a spell to fix it.”

Michael waved my words away. “A beard is easy enough to arrange. You were telling me of your interest in alchemy.”

“Yes. I found a book—one that many others have sought. I met Seven when he came to steal it from me, but he couldn’t because I’d already let it out of my hands. Every creature for miles was after me then. I had to stop working!”

A sound that might have been suppressed laughter set a muscle in Michael’s jaw throbbing. It was, I discovered, hard to tell with lions whether they were amused or about to pounce.

“We think it’s the book of origins,” Seven said. His expression was proud, though my calling of the manuscript had been completely accidental. “It came looking for Stephanie. By the time the other creatures realized what she’d found, I was already in love.”

“So this went on for some time, then.” Michael tented his fingers in front of his chin, resting his elbows on the edges of the table. He was sitting on a simple four-legged stool, even though a splendid, thronelike eyesore sat empty next to him.

“No,” I said after doing some calculations, “just a fortnight. Seven wouldn’t admit to his feelings for the longest time, though—not until we were at Sept-Tours. But it wasn’t safe here either. One night I left Seven’s bed and went outside. A witch took me from the gardens.”

Michael’s eyes darted from me to Seven. “There was a witch inside the walls of Sept-Tours?”

“Yes,” said Seven tersely.

“Down into them,” I corrected gently, capturing his father’s attention once more. “I don’t believe any witch’s foot ever touched the ground, if that’s important. Well, mine did, of course.”

“Of course,” Michael acknowledged with a tip of his head. “Continue.”

“She took me to La Daniel. Domenico was there. So was Gerbert.” The look on Michael’s face told me that neither the castle nor the two vampires who had met me inside it were unfamiliar.

“Curses, like chickens, come home to roost,” Michael murmured.

“It was the Congregation who ordered my a*******n, and a witch named Satu tried to force the magic from me. When she failed, Satu threw me into the oubliette.”

Seven’s hand strayed to the small of my back as it always did when that night was mentioned. Michael watched the movement but said nothing.

“After I escaped, I couldn’t stay at Sept-Tours and put Ysabeau in danger. There was all this magic coming out of me, you see, and powers I couldn’t control. Seven and I went home, to my aunts’ house.” I paused, searching for a way to explain where that house was. “You know the legends told by Anthony’s people, about lands across the ocean to the west?” Michael nodded. “That’s where my aunts live. More or less.”