Kristal did not look forward to her meeting with Father Perez that morning. As she expected when she told him what happened…

He was furious with her.

“You should not have left her alone! Not even for a minute,” he said. “Of course they came and lured her away. Who did you think you were dealing with?”

“She was ambivalent, Father. If I’d had a guard there in the room with her day and night I was afraid she’d change her mind.”

“If you’d had a strong, devout man in the room with her day and night, whether she changed her mind or not would have been irrelevant.” He sighed. “Kristal, I know you are a good woman who means well, but do you realize what you’ve done here? She’s warned them. Now they know. The element of surprise is gone. And given the limits of our resources, even today, that’s no small matter.”

“So,” Kristal said, “What is the next step?”

“The next step?” He shook his head. “We have enough on our plate right now dealing with this problem in Spain. There, at least, we have a relatively free hand. Investing in an effort here, sending people over… No, there is no next step.”

“You said you needed two witnesses.”

“Does it matter if one of the witnesses is dead? What if I could find you written evidence from years ago that unequivocally indicated sorcery?”

He thought for a moment, his head down. “Maybe,” he said. “I’d have to see it.”

Kristal nodded. She would utter no promises.

Family meetings had never been much of a tradition with the Dudays. The assumption was of each house being ruled by a more or less benevolent, usually male dictator who, at best, had heated private conferences with a spouse before issuing dictums. But Telesphore was still in no condition to be making decisions, and this, as Greg pointed out, was a crisis that called for unified action.

So all of them would be present, including Artiste. And most especially, Marion.

Leon had not been happy about this. “She’s fragile,” he’d said the night before, after they’d discussed the need for a coordinated effort. “She mustn’t worry.”

“She’s more likely to worry if she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on,” said Greg.

Leon had ignored him. Everything he said was to his father.

“Marion is enciente,” And then Leon had drawn his lips back to show his teeth and added. “My wife, Papa. And my child. I don’t think we should just sit around a table and talk.”

Tel had not reacted. He’d just looked rather vaguely at Leon and made a faint “hm” noise.

This worried Greg. Leon worried Greg. His smile after Marion’s pregnancy was announced was unnerving.

And he’d practially herded her into their bedroom afterwards. Greg wondered what they’d said to each other after they were alone that night.

Marion seemed all right as they gathered around the table, but she didn’t sit next to Leon, and her eyes hardly ever left him.

Grandmere was invited. She said she would not set foot in the house until Tel came to his senses about how many children he’d had, and certainly not while Gregoire was there. There was talk about contacting Brigitte, but Felicia said she saw no point in dragging her into the matter. “You know how she gets when anyone mentions Talent.”

And so the next morning there were seven gathered around the dining room table.

“We must consider security,” said Greg.

“I’m recovered now, and can take care of this house, but I’m a bit concerned about Maman. She seems unable to grasp what’s happened, and her talent…” He shrugged dismissively.

“I’ve already put up some wards around her house,” said Laurette. “And I’ll visit her today and talk to her. She’ll listen to me.”

“Marion,” said Greg. “You are vulnerable. And you too, Felicia, Artiste. Historically, these people coerced testimony from witnesses using any means they can, and all three of you are obvious targets. I hate to say it, but maybe you should stay indoors for awhile.”

“No,” said Artiste.

“Marion and Felicia should stay inside, but I’m friends with Father Quitol. If he knew what Father Ignacio was up to, he wouldn’t like it. I’m going to talk to him. I think he could give us a better idea of just how danger there is. And besides, if you’re going to worry about the untalented among us, what about Artie? What if she goes after him?”

“I put wards around his house too,” said Laurette.

Artiste frowned at her. “You did not discuss that with me, wife.”

“There is nothing to discuss, husband. Your son knows about us and we all know Artie’s rattling tongue.” She put her hand on his. “He’s a dear, Artiste, and you know we all love him, but he’s not got a shred of discretion, and he worked for Kristal. If she thought ‘interrogating’ Artie would get her want she wants… You know he’s easily flustered and upset, and you know what she is.”

“But what would you tell Quitol?” asked Greg.

“That Perez is hearkening back to the Inquisition,” said Artiste. “That he is the kind of priest who gives the Church a bad name, especially given what’s happened in Spain.”

“I don’t like it,” Greg said.

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Laurette. “You think every priest is out to burn you personally.”

“They’re out to burn all of us, sister, and if you think Franco doesn’t have the Catholic church hierarchy firmly in his pocket…”

“Taisez vous, both of you,” said Tel.

“You are in my house,” he said, “and I’m not going to listen to another stupid shouting match about the church. This isn’t the time, and we’re all of us sick of it, especially Marion.” He looked at her, and she smiled tentatively at him.

His exhausted eyes returned to Greg. “Brother, I must ask. This Island is no longer really your home. You’re at full strength now, and could make the journey across water. Do you want to go back to California?”

“Yes. But I won’t. Not yet.”

“Because I am still too weak?”

“Because you are still not entirely yourself.”

“No. I am not.” Tel closed his eyes. “So, aside from putting up wards, what do you think we should do?”

“I’m lousy at poker,” Greg said. “And that Abbot woman has always been beyond me. Does she still have a lot of influence?”

“Even more,” said Felicia. “She’s probably going to be the next mayor. And once she is it’s going to be the Reckoners all over again.”

“No, no, ‘Sha, you exaggerate,” said Artiste. “Kitty’s boy says the police have always been pretty evenly split about her. A lot of them say she’s too mainland, too much in the pocket of outsiders. And given some of their experiences off-island during the war, I suspect that attitude will have hardened. That will tie her hands a bit.”

Tel nodded. “This is true,” he said.

“I’m good at poker, Greg,” Artiste continued.

“You lost enough to me to know that. My read is that a lot of Kris Abbott has always been bluff. A liar’s weakness. And I know for a fact that Quitol can barely stand her. He’s probably aware she’s friends with Perez, and believe me, that won’t endear Perez to him. I’m going to talk to him. Today. He can give me a sense of how powerful this Spanish priest actually is.”

“Just be careful,” said Greg. “If you don’t come back to us by this evening…”

“If you are not back by this evening, Artiste, I will come looking for you,” said Laurette. Greg opened his mouth to object and she added, “And may Le Bon Dieu help anyone who stands in my way.”

“D’accord. We are agreed, then.”

“No, we aren’t agreed. I can’t believe this!” Leon rose from his chair.

“This is what we’re going to do? Sit around. Put up wards, run snivelling off to Father Quitol, and hope the black robes don’t come to get us?”

“What do you suggest?” asked Greg.

“I can take care of Kristal Abbot. I can take care of her in seconds.”

“Leon, no, please.” Marion said. She sounded less frightened than resigned. “She knows all about you. I really think she can kill you. She will kill you.”

“Papa,” Leon turned towards his father. “This isn’t you. You, my father, have destroyed evil men! You’ve held the Bonney family and most of the Island firmly in your hand. You’ve tamed a Loup Garou!” Leon struck his chest with his fist. “I can’t believe you’re just going to sit here with your head down and…”

“Oh, stop it!” Felicia snapped.

“No, Mother, I’m not going to stop it. You’re all letting fat Uncle Greg call the shots!” He wheeled to face his uncle.

“…this coward, this lazy old lounge li…”

One minute Leon was on his feet, the next he was on the floor flat on his back and the air around him was popping.

Marion stood up and walked out of the room waving Laurette off when she tried to follow. Greg moved towards his nephew, wondering if it would make matters worse if he tried to help him up. Yes, he decided, it probably would. .

Tel had slid his wand back into his pocket. He now stood over Leon. “Get up, son,” he said amiably, as if Leon had merely tripped and fallen on his own.

Leon opened his eyes, tried to stand.

Then crumpled to his knees, letting out a long, keening whine that made Greg turn away, embarassed.

“Get up. Leon. Now.” said Tel.

Slowly, Leon uncurled himself and got to his feet.

“Apologize to your uncle.”

Leon’s eyes were no longer yellow, but his face went hard with contempt as he angrily straightened his jacket and muttered, “Sorry, Uncle Greg.”

“No, son.” Tel touched his coat over where he kept his wand. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I accept it as given, ” said Greg, quickly. “Please, let’s not go further with this.” He held out his hand.

Leon pretended not to notice.

Tel’s voice was quiet and he spoke slowly, as if explaining something to listeners he suspected might be a little stupid.

“We are not going to act until we know exactly where we stand. We will do as Greg and Artiste advise. Laurette will go to your grandmother’s house. Artiste will talk to Father Quitol.

Marion… I really hope Marion gets some rest. She has had a bad day and night. And let me emphasize to everyone here, this is just a suggestion for Marion. She can decide for herself, and if she desires a little help sleeping, we can make her some ordinary Chamomile tea. Or anything else she wants. Nothing more than what Marion wants from here on. From any of us. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Brother,” Laurette said quietly, and afer a moment, Greg nodded.

“And what action are we going to take, Papa? Anything at all?”

“You will come upstairs with your mother and me. And Greg, if he wishes it. You will help us.”

Sometimes you simply had to act on your gut, and do it simply, without hesitation or concealment.

It was just after noon. Kitty was usually at the theater until 9:00 pm. Dierdre would be out somewhere running or swatting a ball or swimming. She’d never be indoors on a summer day. The house was probably empty.

Kristal knew where Kitty kept the key to her front door.

The question was, where had Kitty put them? There was a chance they were at the Maritime in a Safety Deposit box, but there was also a chance that they were in Kitty’s house. Aside from The Rose, they were reallly all that was left of Papa, and Kitty and he had been close

First she checked Kitty’s bedroom.

Under the bed, in her closet. Nothing.

Next she checked the storage addition in the back. That’s where she found them.

Not safe to take all of them, as much as she’d like to. Fortunately they were arranged in rough chronological order. Kristal did a quick assessment and found the volume she wanted in two tries. 1887-1899. If it didn’t have what she needed, she’d come back.

The trick was not to sneak. Getting caught doing that was fatal. The trick was just to walk confidently through the house, out the front door, turning to lock it.

She’d just tossed the book onto the passenger seat and was thinking, reconsidering whether she should go back in when she heard a voice behind her.

“Auntie Kristal!”

“Hello, Dierdre.”

“Girls, this is my Auntie, Councilor Kristal Abbot! What do we say to Councilor Abbot, girls?”

“Good afternooooon, Councilor Abbot,” the girls chanted, gathering around like a curious herd of deer.

“I thought school wasn’t in session yet,” said Kristal.

“This is my running team Auntie! We’re getting all limbered up for the year! Going to make it to the finals, aren’t we girls? We were trotting back from our run, I pointed out my house to them, and here you were! What a wonderful coincidence!”

“Yes,” said Kristal. “Isn’t it.” As usual, her niece was sweaty and oblivious, and every sentence sounded just a notch below a yodel.

“And look, girls, here’s my brother! Officer Jean Paul Baranca! What do we say?”

“Good afternooon, Officer Baranca,” they chanted, this time with enthusiasm.

“Hello, ladies,” he smiled. “Hello Aunt Kristal.”

“All right girls, break time over!” sang Dierdre, as if she expected everybody to cheer. “My brother, officer Baranca, was a Captain in the Army until last June! He fought the Germans in the Eu-ro-pe-an theater!” She said ‘European Theater’ as if it were a term she’d just learned and liked saying. “He is a brave, brave man!”

“Now, Deed…” Jean Paul said gently.

“Let’s all show him what good soldiers we can be! Line up! Eyes front! TenSHUN!”

“What do we say before we go?”

“Good byyyyyyyye, Councilor Abbot. Good byyyyyyyye Officer Baranca!” they sang.

“Onwards! Brisk pace!” Dierdre shouted, and they all jogged away.

“So, Auntie Kristal… Were you looking for something?”

“I ask,” he continued, still smiling but his voice cool and even, “because while I was up on East Hill Road, I could see you coming out of the house. Imagine my surprise. And I was even more suprised to see you lock the door behind you. Plainly my mother is not home right now.”

“Of course she isn’t. She never is this time of day.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. So. What were you looking for, Aunt Kristal? Maybe I can help.”

“No need. I found what I wanted.”

“Really?” He started towards the car. She moved to block his path.

“Just one of Papa’s diaries, that’s all,” she said, smiling. “Kitty won’t mind.”

“I think she will mind. I think she will mind a lot. Or did Mother give you permission to walk into her house and take something?.”

Kristal laughed, stepped into her car, and started the motor.

“Now wait just a minute!”

Kristal pulled out with a squeal of tires. Halfway down the road she glanced into her rearview mirror. Jean Paul wasn’t following. She smiled.