Jean woke with Vero in his arms, and he could not remember being so happy in many years. She was asleep, but still held him tight. At peace like that, her face reminded him of a goddess.

  How long will she remain with us this time? There was no use worrying over that. He just wished to drink in her presence while she still chose to share it with him.

  Vero murmured, and her eyes fluttered open. He kissed her, and whispered all the ways he found her beautiful into her ear. She curled up into his embrace the way she did when she was frightened.

  He wanted to help her. But what can I do?

  They stayed in bed together for a long time, and he sent his valet out to bring them breakfast. They crossed the border into Velois proper late in the evening the previous night, and made camp still a few hours away from Greenvale Castle.

  Their company arrived there early the next afternoon after a leisurely start. Securely in his oldest hereditary lands at last, no one in pursuit of Vero would have a chance of abducting her and escaping thereafter any longer, so they let their horses rest and traveled easily.

  Jean felt his stomach grumbling at the delay in dinner, but the servants went ahead to prepare food for their arrival. He turned to Vero riding next to him. “It’s past mid-day, are you hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry.”

  “Have you and the Fra made any progress with those journals the vampyress gave you?”

  “Some.” Vero chewed her lip. “Not so much as I’d like.”

  “Well, I would hesitate to rely solely on information provided by this Elizaveta. There’s no telling what she may have manipulated to her own ends.”

  “I certainly won’t be treating them like the scriptures, but I don’t think Elizaveta has tampered with them. I recognize the handwriting as her father Hector’s, and when I worked spellcraft with her in our scheme to destroy the Black Palatine, I never saw any sign that she knew this unusual language by anything but rote.”

  “What have you been able to read so far?”

  “Bits and pieces. None of it chronological though, unfortunately. Hector was an Imperial, and we believe some kind of adjunct to the Black Palatine, while that blackguard still lived. We’ve speculated that he traveled to the nightside of the mountains following his master a millennia ago, and that he may have become a striga by the same method the Black Palatine used. Although we know not what that was.”

  “It’s incredible you were able to destroy that creature and escape, he was the eldest vampyre on the continent- probably the whole world. There will certainly be stories told about this for a long time.”

  “No one but a select few even know he’s gone yet.”

  “I shall see to it that you’re properly attributed your credit and dues when the songs are written though.”

  Vero did not appear to notice his jape. “We're sure that the two of them were in contact with the traitors within the Order, certainly with regards to their shared interest in immortality.”

  “Both the Palatine and your order were associated with the original Catholic Imperium at that time, it's not surprising they were familiar with one another.”

  “We believe we’ve found a list of the conspirators who went on to form the Curia, although we aren’t able to read any of the names yet. They may all be pseudonyms anyway.”

  “It would be preferable to know the identities of our opposition, although it’s scarcely necessary to accomplish our goal of stopping them.”

  “We are certain that Hector knew the Fiend lurked beneath the mountain, and Heward believes he was attempting to shield himself from its influence. That certainly agrees with what Elizaveta told me. If so, that would be valuable spellwork to decipher. Beyond that, we’ve learned little. The final few entries are short and frantic, perhaps there is some clue in them about how he died that might aid us.”

  “Do you actually believe this force under the mountains really is the Fiend? That is to say, not simply a denizen from one of the hells, but genuinely the Adversary- the being spoken of in the scriptures?”

  “Yes, I do.” Vero looked him right in the eye, and she was not embarrassed, as she was normally when she admitted to faith in something beyond the material. She was so serious that it chilled him.

  Jean was still not ready to share that belief with her, no matter how earnest it was on her part, but he did consider it a good estimate to the level of power they were opposed by. Vero was an experienced slayer, and this was beyond not only her own experience, but any experience she had ever heard second-hand from any source short of the sacred texts themselves.

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  “I asked Mattie and Saul to ride out and meet us here,” he told her, after a time.

  “Oh?” That seemed to brighten her mood, at least.

  He knew Vero liked Mattie and Saul, that was why he suggested the sheriff and the dwarf come out to meet them in his last letter home. They were also bringing a list of books called for by Aeolus and Mother Sarah in their translation work.

  “Here they are now, even.” There were two horses and riders waiting for them outside the gate. Jean did not actually see that it was Mattie or Saul until they came closer, but who else could it have been?

  They all dismounted, and Vero rushed to embrace Mattie and kiss his cheeks. Jean felt a passing moment of jealousy, but it was needless and faded quickly.

  Mattie blushed. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Lady Veronique.”

  “Now don’t start that again, Ser Mattias.” She was only playfully cross with him. Jean decided that he made the right choice, seeing an old friend was already having a salubrious effect on her.

  “You look beautiful, Vero,” Mattie corrected himself.

  “I missed you, Mattie. I didn’t realize how badly until we met again just now.”

  “We missed you too. Forgive me, I need just a moment of privacy with Jean- an urgent message from home. Then we must speak of everything we have missed to the other.”

  “Of course.” Vero kissed Mattie again, then let him go. She went to greet Saul and bent down to kiss him, making him flush brightly.

  Mattie came nearer and Jean also embraced him and kissed his cheeks. They whispered together in conference. “What is it?”

  “It’s the Lady Dahlia.”

  “Damn.”

  “She’s been following me, Freddie… even Marie- ever since you left. She’s been demanding to know where you are. I’ve heard she’s even written a letter to your mother.”

  “Gods preserve us. I’ll need to slip ahead a day or two to deal with her then. You and Saul should stay here in Greenvale with Ver-”

  “-The Lady Dahlia is here. I’ve tried to keep a low profile, but she arrived here the day before yesterday, I think she has spies among the servants. I had to sneak out of my room this morning to warn you before she knew you were here.”

  “-Oh, damn again. If it’s like that, then I can tell she won’t be easy about this.”

  “I did warn you about her.”

  “No one likes to hear ‘I told you so’s, Mattie. You should know that. I’ll go find her now, you look after Vero.”

  “Too late.”

  Dahlia had come out of the gate and was marching a direct line for where Vero and Saul were reminiscing, her eyes flashing. Jean and Mattie both hurried towards them to avert the impending crisis.

  “So, it’s you!” From her tone, Jean could tell Dahlia was in one of her tempers. “You’re the enchantress who thinks she can just come and go as she pleases! And take what rightfully belongs to others!”

  Vero stared at the woman she had never met in a confusion that only grew as she studied Dahlia’s features. They could almost have been sisters, though standing beside one another, it was only too clear to Jean which was the genuine article, and which a pale imitation.

  “You’ve had your fill of northern barbarians, it seems,” Dahlia continued her tirade. “And now you’ve come crawling back here, looking like a boy in a dress! I suppose with all those muscles; you probably can do a press-up from your toes. Does he fuck you like a catamite too, I wonder? Well, all the paints and jewels in the word won’t change the fact that you still look like a horse!”

  Jean grabbed her by the arm. “That’s enough! Your grievance is with me, leave the Lady Veronique out of this.”

  Dahlia kept starting daggers at Vero until he pulled her away. Then she turned on him. “And you! Did you think you could just pay me off like a whore?! Perhaps you’ve grown confused, because that ugly little slattern with the same shade of hair as I, is a farm girl impressed by petty trinkets. My father is the Duc de Claremont! I’m not some peasant hedge sorceress who needed to befuddle the mind of a weak-willed fool of a Marquis to steal my rank! If you think I’ll slink off quietly because of some expensive dresses and perfumes, you’re gravely mistaken.”

  Jean had finally dragged her out of earshot from the others. “I understand why you’re upset. I’m sorry this happened. If I could have chosen for matters to have developed otherwise, I would have. Under normal circumstances, things would have resolved much later, and more naturally between us.”

  “But why?” Tears came into her eyes. She folded herself flat against his chest. Jean held her, but there was no feeling in it greater than a basic human compassion. “Why should it resolve at all? We were so happy together. She’s ugly, can’t you see that? I could understand if she were more beautiful than I, but I’ve seen her now. She looks like a man with a child’s face.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You don’t need her. I can do anything for you that she can.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but this misunderstanding can only cause you more pain later. I love her. I care for you, and we’ve spent happy hours together, I hope we can meet again under better circumstances, but I don’t love you. I’ve never claimed otherwise. I’ve loved Vero for years in a way I never felt for you. I’m sorry, I truly am. I cannot state matters any more plainly than that.”

  Dahlia’s eyes were fierce again. “Bastard!” She shoved him in anger, but Jean stood fast and was unmoved. “We all know your father held peculiar tastes. I should have known better than to become close to you. Very well, have your man in a dress. She can give it to you up the arse, as that’s how you seem to prefer it! Don’t ever touch me again, you impotent eunuch!”

  Dahlia left in a rage. Fortunately, her servants had already prepared her wardrobe and other things for a hasty departure. Jean was just satisfied that she was going, as he did not wish to offend her father any more than necessary. The Duchy of Claremont was an important ally on his southern border. He would not be pleased by this upset to his daughter, but the Duc was very calculated in his dealings, and Jean was sure he would keep men’s business separate from any female hysteria.

  He would send the Duc a letter of apology that evening.

  “Bugger!” Dahlia called out as she passed Jean, while leaving through the front gate with her baggage. “Bitch!” she called out to Vero.

  Then she was gone at last.

  Despite her not being a prostitute, Jean noticed that all his earlier gifts were still departing along with Dahlia’s other things.

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