♕

Dahlia awoke screaming and to a pair of concerned green eyes.

"Dahlia." Matthew breathed, he looked beyond worried. Dahlia bit her lips averting her eyes from his, glaring hard at the floor.

He was laying above her, his soft curls brushed her cheeks. She blushed.

They were so close it was painful to Dahlia in an odd way. She struggled under him.

"Are you all right? Would you like some tea? It helps sooth the nerves-" Matthew was rambling and kindly avoiding why Dahlia had awoken screaming. She curled her hands around his wrists, which was placed near her head in an attempt not to squeeze the life out of Dahlia.

 "If you have questions, jann, then ask them." Dahlia said, slowly sliding into a sitting position, Matthew sat up with her, raking his blonde hair with his hands.

"What are your nightmares about?" he asked carefully as if he was walking on glass.

Dahlia took a deep breath. "When I was eight, after my parents had died, I had gone to seek comfort with the Darkwoods. Evan was my closest friend and we've known each other for as long as I can remember, so of course I went to him. There I met his sister Eledora, Ellie is-was amazing, she was an angel. We became the best of friends, we did everything together. Of course me and Ariadne were adopted by the Bridgestocks when we were almost nine, but we never lost touch. The Darkwoods would come from New York every year for a week just to see us, it was special, and we would go visit them, leaving dad in Idris. It was the summer of my fourteenth birthday when it happened-" Dahlia broke off her throat clogging at the memory.

Matthew clutched her hands, "Take your time." he murmured.

"We were playing, Ellie was really sick so I had gone up to her room to check in on her a-and there was a demon, Ellie was too weak to fight it off, I tried, oh Matthew I tried, but it lunged at her and before I could turn around, she-" Dahlia started sobbing.

"It ripped her to shreds in front of my eyes. All I could do was stare in horror, and then after it was gone I started screaming. I should have screamed before, or I should I helped, I could have done something-The worst part? Everyone thought I had only entered the room after she was killed." she cried, her whole body shuddering at the memory.

She was shaking, the world was too close. Tears were streaming down her face, Matthew would think she was disgusting. He would leave her. She was sure of it.

Matthew pulled her to him, she crashed into his chest. "I'm so sorry Dahlia." he whispered, cradling her, and playing with her hair gently.

She looked at him with teary eyes. "You don't-you don't hate me?" she asked, biting her lip. Matthew gave a cold sort of laugh. "Dahlia, darling, how could I-"

"Well you did for....four years. I don't see why you'd stop now." Dahlia muttered. "Because, I love you." Matthew replied, placing butterfly kisses all over her face.

She placed her hands on his chest, putting a little distance between them. "Why are you always sad, Matthew?" she asked, tilting her head. Matthew froze.

"I did not know," he started slowly, his voice was low. "That I seemed sad to you."

Dahlia shivered a little, though it was not cold in the room. "There is something weighing on you, Matthew," she said gently. "A secret. I know it. Will you tell me what it is?" 

"You do not know what you are asking." he said. His voice was ragged.

"Yes I do." she said. "I am asking for the truth. Your truth. You know mine, and I do not even know what makes you so unhappy." 

It was as if he had frozen, holding her on his lap, like a Matthew-statue.

Only his fingers moved, tracing her face and her gown. Dahlia shuddered.

When he spoke, finally, his voice sounded almost like a stranger's—not Matthew's usual bright, water-swift tones, but something much deeper, and more still. "I have told no one this story," he said. "Not in all my life. Jem knows it. No one else. It is perhaps the very height of foolishness to tell you, and to ask you to keep it from James. I have never told him myself."

 Dahlia ran her hands through his hair. "I will not, I promise."

"It is about Alastair as well." Matthew said. Dahlia shook her head, her hair shaking with her head. "Still. Tell me, Fairchild."

"All right, then. We were at school. Too young to know the power of words, perhaps. When Alastair came around, saying things about my mother ... saying Henry was not my father, that instead I was Gideon's bastard ..." He shook his head, his entire body tensing. "I thought I would kill Alastair right there. I didn't, of course, but— The awful thing about it was that once I had the idea planted in my brain, I couldn't stop thinking about it. My father was injured before I was born; I had only ever known him confined to his chair. Nor do I resemble him at all. It began to consume me, the wondering ... and one day I gathered my courage and went to the Shadow Market. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but in the end, I bought a bottle of 'truth potion.'

"The next morning I put some in my mother's food. I thought I would ask her to tell me who my father was, and that she would either not realize she was under a spell, or she would forgive me and understand that I deserved to know."

Matthew let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling as he said, "It wasn't a truth potion at all, though I suppose you could have guessed that. Whatever it was, it was poison, and ... my mother was pregnant. I didn't know it, of course, but whatever I gave her, it caused her agony, and she—she lost the baby."

Dahlia's hands tightened on Matthew's shoulder. "You're doing amazing, my love." she whispered quietly.

He didn't pause, his breath catching on his words. "The Silent Brothers were able to save my mother, but not my sister. My mother has not been with child since, though I know my parents have hoped and tried."

 "That very day, I learned the truth—that I was without a doubt my father's son. It had all been a stupid rumor. I was drowning, speechless, shattered. My father assumed I was struggling to make sense of the loss. The truth was that I was horrified by my own actions, disgusted by my lack of faith in those closest to me. I swore to myself that I would never tell anyone, not even James. And I decided that I would never forgive Alastair, though I blamed myself so much more than I ever blamed him." 

 At last, he looked at her. "That's the story, Dahlia. That's my secret. You hate me now, and I can't blame you. I can't even ask you not to tell James. Do whatever you must. I will understand."

She hugged Matthew fiercely, kissing his cheeks. "I will never," she said gently and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "hate you. It doesn't matter what you do, Math, a part of me will always love you. Forever and always." 

"Dahlia." he said in a choked voice.

"You must forgive yourself, Matthew." she muttered, laying her head on his shoulder. 

He made an incoherent noise. Dahlia knew that Alastair would have ever meant any of this to happen, but neither could Matthew have known what the result of his truth potion would be. They were more alike, she thought, than either would want to admit.

"Matthew," she said gently, "you must tell your mother. She will forgive you, and you will no longer carry this bitter weight alone."

"I can't," Matthew whispered. "Now she grieves for one child. After that she would grieve for another, for she and my father would never forgive me."

"My sweet, darling Matthew. I will not pressure you to do something you do not wish to do, take all the time you need, we have forever. I do not deserve your compassion." she murmured, tracing her hands along the side of his face.

Matthew shuddered. 

"You deserve the world. I will give you the world." Matthew declared. Dahlia laughed, it was a brittle sound. "You are my world." she said quietly.

Matthew smiled in silent disbelief.

"I could give you all of me then, but I don't know how much of me you would want." Matthew muttered.

Dahlia caressed his cheek, "Every part of you, from your soul to your gorgeous eyes is beautiful to me." 

Matthew let himself be held by her, comfort him.

He pulled them down onto the bed, laying down next to her. "You seem tired."

"I haven't slept much you oaf." Dahlia said rolling her eyes. Matthew smiled softly, looking at her through golden lashes.

"Hold me you bastard." Dahlia muttered, nearing Matthew. He pulled her to him, their legs interwined.

"Good night, Dahlia." he said.

But Dahlia had drifted off to sleep, the first sleep she had all week long.

Without nightmares.

♕

Matthew was rushing across the parlor, bumping into a wall. Dahlia snorted from the doorway, sipping cinnamon tea.

"Be careful, where are you headed in such a rush?" she asked teasingly.

"I promised Daisy I would go out with her in the motorcar." Matthew said absently, buttoning his waistcoat.

Dahlia's heart dropped.

"Oh? I'm sure she can wait, be careful. She wouldn't want you all ruined showing up at her door step." Dahlia said, forcing a smiling.

Matthew pouted, brushing his hair with his hands. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips, and dashed away, ducking under the door and disappearing with the rumble of the motorcar.

Dahlia sighed, turning around and marching her way back to their room.

She stared at the unmade bed numbly. Cordelia. The name was bittersweet to Dahlia. 

Daisy was her close friend, but Matthew did love her, despite what he said. It was in the way he said her name.

Dahlia bit her lip looking away from the bed and to the bedroom door.

She could go out with Evan today, Matthew was with Cordelia, he wouldn't mind. She grabbed her chakaras and a Seraph blade and glided out of the room.

"Arya!" she called. She was presented with a grumble. "I'm going out! I will be back soon!"

Arya grumbled.

 Dahlia slammed the door behind her and walked out into snowy London, heading for Evan Darkwood's apartment.

She found it a few minutes later, remembering Evan telling her where he would live if he could live in London. He was there, she made her way to his floor, bursting in without knocking.

"Evan!" she yelled. Evan, who was covered in ink, looked at her with wide green eyes through gold rimmed spectacles. They were but a shade lighter than her Matthew's.

"Dahlia! How did you-"

"You told me, you idiotic bastard." Dahlia said rolling her eyes and ruffling his hair.

He sighed deeply as if disappointed by her existence.

"You are hopeless, you know that right?" he asked her smiling. Dahlia grinned at him.

"I am aware." she replied, looking around the room.

It was pretty decent with silvers and dark blues and greens.

"So, may I know why you have graced me with your presence?" he asked, putting away something he had been writing.

"I wanted to know if you would like to go around London?" Dahlia asked sheepishly.

Evan brightened. "Of course! One moment, Dahlia. I will need to get this ink off." 

Dahlia smiled and settled in the couch, watching Evan fret.

"Oh enough of that, hurry!" she exclaimed, dragging Evan away. Evan stumbled over several items on the floor as they left the flat and went downstairs.

"Ready?" she asked, linking heir arms. Evan put away his glasses. "Ready." he murmured.

The first place they went too was the Institute, uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily were inside but Dahlia didn't enter, just skirted around the gardens.

Evan listened intently to every word she said. She couldn't help but compare him to Matthew, Matthew would have listened to everything she said then pretend he hadn't heard a word, whereas Evan seemed like he was genuinely interested.

Then again, Evan and Matthew were two different people.

"And that place, over there, was where Matthew almost impaled me with a sword." Dahlia said fondly.

Evan blinked, "I'm sorry what-"

"And that part of the garden was where I slapped Matthew the first time." Dahlia reminisced.

Evan seemed to be worrying for her. 

"Over there we almost killed each other. Christopher had to pull us away and James had to push us into bushes." Dahlia continued.

"And you married him?" Evan asked baffled.

"People fall in love in mysterious ways, Ev." Dahlia said, wiggling her fingers. Evan snorted.

"So how do you like the institute?" Dahlia asked, smiling widely. Evan seemed dubious. "It seems nice enough."

Dahlia laughed. "If you see the inside you will never want to leave! I'll take you another time. We need to get to the Thames and then the Hell Ruelle." Dahlia said, hailing a hansomcab.

They got into the car and spoke of everything that had happened in the past one year. "So I told mam that I was old enough to stay at London by myself after I heard you were going to get....married." Evan said. 

Dahlia smiled, this time it wasn't as genuine. "Ohh that is marvelous new Evan! Sadly after the Hell Ruelle, which should take about three hours to navigate, we must part ways. We shall send letters and notes though!" 

Evan grinned. "Lovely Dahlia."

She smiled at him and looked out the window as they neared the Hell Ruelle.

Dahlia dragged Evan out of the car. "Here we are! Now, let's get drunk and say this we are to afraid to say sober." Dahlia said grinning.

Evan laughed. "I'll have to make sure you don't accidentally kill anyone, but go ahead, Dahl." 

Dahlia pouted. "I won't!"

Evan only rolled his eyes.

♕

Dahlia and Evan reached her house on Curzon street at around six in the evening. Dahlia stumbled, she had drunk a little too much champagne; she wasn't drunk, just tipsy. She felt so free with Evan. Not the constant anxiousness she felt with everyone else. Evan was familiar, like Christopher.

She waved Evan a giddy good bye as he walked away. Before she could even knock on the door it swung open and very angry Matthew stood at the door way.

"Where have you been?" he asked roughly. Dahlia pouted. 

"Matthew-Math-Look, you. I am very mad at you." she said, stumbling over her words.

Matthew groaned, angrily raking his hair. "Your drunk aren't you? By the Angel, why Dahlia? It's six in the evening."

"Because you hurt me." Dahlia said smiling innocently. Matthew's gaze softened. 

"How so?"

"No business of yours!" she giggled, walking into the house. Matthew trailed behind her making sure she didn't fall down.

"Tum ek bevakooph ho." Dahlia rambled. Matthew ignored her. "Where have you been Dahlia?"

"With Evan! He likes me more than you!" Dahlia smiled. Matthew's eyes darkened.

"What?" he asked.

"Evan Darkwood, you bastard. He is my best, best, best friend in the whole entire world! But he's in love with me, and I sadly love you." Dahlia said, sighing deeply, entering the ballroom.

Matthew was rigged.

"He told me, you know, that he loved me. When we were eleven. Oh that idiot, I wasn't even interested in love. I didn't want to hurt him, my poor angel." said Dahlia leaning against a wall.

"I never wanted to get married, did you know that Matthew? I vowed I would never." she gave a heartless laugh. "Look where I am now."

"You could at least choose who you want to put your attention on, Matthew. I'm not blaming you for anything jann but it would be nice if you chose instead of hurting me every time." Dahlia said, closing her eyes.

Matthew had been listening, his hands clenched and his posture rigged.

He walked to Dahlia now, it fast angry steps and started kissing her.

"You could have at least told me where you were." he hissed against her lips. Dahlia pouted.

"I was about to burn the house down looking for you Dahlia." he said angrily, kissing her harder, Dahlia couldn't speak because of the pressure of Matthew's lips against hers.

"And now I find out you were out with Evan." he hissed, the way he said Evan's name mad it clear how much he hated him.

Matthew pulled Dahlia closer to him, and they kissed, it wasn't sweet and soft like they usually did. This time it was hot and rough, leaving Dahlia's lips swollen and her hair a mess.

Matthew didn't seem any better.

"You're mine." he whispered. "And mine only."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "I'll kiss who I want to kiss, I'll love who I want to love. The thing is Matthew, I don't think I'll ever want anyone else." she said, stepping on his foot and leaving the room angrily.

Matthew stared after her, a mess of golden hair and a splayed out waistcoat.

Dahlia adjust her dress as she stumbled up the stair case, cursing Matthew and the ballroom as she made her way to the bedroom.

♕

"What in the name of Raziel, James!" Dahlia exclaimed, whirling around.

Everyone in the room stared at her, anticipating her next move. Anna was angrily staring at her tea cup, Thomas was pacing the room, Lucie had her head down and Christopher looked ready to restrain her if the need be. James had asked Matthew to distract Cordelia for a while, soo they had gone in the motor car together.

Now, Dahlia was staring at the golden eyed boy with furious blue eyes. "How could you even think that! You are not a murderer James Herondale." Dahlia said fiercely.

James sighed, "I hadn't planned to tell you at all, if there hadn't been that mark on my windowsill-"

He was cut off by a flying book, narrowly missing his ear. He stared wide eyed at Dahlia.

"If you think such stupid things again, my book shall not miss." she threatened, sitting down next to Christopher in a swirl of silk and lace.

James closed his eyes for a moment. 

"You didn't want to tell us because you knew that we would say it was ridiculous," said Lucie. "You and Cordelia already rid us of Belial." 

Dahlia sipped tea.

"But a Prince of Hell cannot be killed," James said wearily. "We all know it. Belial may be much diminished after being wounded by Cortana, but that does not mean his sphere of influence has ended. Something made that mark on my windowsill this morning." 

"You mentioned the mark before," said Christopher. "What was it? What makes you so sure it has to do with Belial?"

James rose and picked up a book, it was a tall volume, bound in dark purple leather. 

 "Each has a sigil, a sign by which he is known." He sat down and opened the book. "This is the symbol I saw in the ice." 

Everyone crowded around, Anna leaning over the back of James's chair. There was a silence as they took in the illustration of Belial—he was facing away, his head turned to the side, his profile razor-sharp. He wore a dark red cloak, and a single clawed hand was visible at his side. 

"So Belial left you a calling card," Dahlia murmured. "Rude of him not to wait until the footman was at home." 

"So is it meant to be a message?" said Thomas. "A way of saying, 'Here I am'?"

"Perhaps a way of saying he is me," said James. "Perhaps he has found away to possess me when I am unconscious—"

"You are not a murderer or possessed," snapped Lucie. "In case you've forgotten, demons cannot possess Shadowhunters. You don't think our parents forgot our protection spells when we were born, do you?"

"Lucie," James said. "I don't blame them or expect they forgot. But this is Belial. He's a Prince of Hell. Half my life, he's reached into my waking dreams. If anyone could break through the protection spell, a Prince of Hell—"

"It should protect against any demonic interference," said Christopher. "The spell was originally intended to keep Lilith away specifically. The angels Sanvi, Sansanvi, and Semangelaf are her mortal enemies. But the full ritual, performed by the Silent Brothers, should be strong enough to keep away even Belial, or Leviathan."

"An excellent reminder it could be worse," said James. "Our grandfather could have been Leviathan. We'd both have tentacles."

"So hard to find clothes that would fit," said Christopher sympathetically.

"So what do these sigils do?" wondered Thomas, settling back into his chair. "Do they just serve as elaborate signatures?" 

James set the book down on the inlaid table by the fire. "They are more than symbols. They can be used in summoning. Ancient cults used to create massive sigils with standing stones or marks on the ground, which would serve as gateways for demons." He paused, "Christopher, do you have a map of London?"

"I am a scientist," said Christopher, "not a geographer! I don't have a map of London. I do have a beaker of Raum venom," he added, "but it's in my shoe, and will be difficult to reach."

Dahlia sighed, "Does anyone have any questions about that? No? Good."

Anna clambered lightly onto an upholstered chair and reached for a high shelf of books. She drew down a volume of maps. "How fortunate that you have a well-stocked library, James."

James took the book and set it down on the table, flipping through the pages.

Over Thomas's protests, James flicked a pen from his friend's pocket. He began to mark spots on the map, counting them off in order. "Clerkenwell, Fitch Lane, Shoe Lane, Shepherd Market—"

"I think he is possessed," said Dahlia. "He's defacing a book." 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." James squinted. Splashed across the map were his marks, one for each address where a body had been found. He had connected them with his pen. "I had wondered—"

"If someone was trying to draw the sigil, so to speak, with the locations chosen for the murders," said Christopher, his face alight with thought. "I realized what you were doing—it's very clever, but I don't see how that could even be the beginning of Belial's sigil. It's all circles, and this is more like a line that hooks at the end—"

James tossed the pen onto the table. "It was just a theory. But that doesn't mean that Belial isn't working his will through me while I sleep. Think of Filomena's ghost.  Perhaps because she knew her murderer was also one of Hell's princes? Maybe even the same one?"

"We can't know that's what she meant," said Thomas. "And if Belial is influencing you—you know none of this would be your fault, don't you?"

They were all silent for a moment. James took a deep breath. "Would you feel that way?" he said. "If you were me?"

"Well, you can hardly never sleep again," said Christopher. 

"Studies have shown that is quite unsafe." supplied Dahlia.

"Be reasonable," said Anna. "How would you come and go in the middle of the night, knocking about and bumping into things because you're not even awake, and not raise—not raise the whole house?"

"I'm not sure it's the same as sleepwalking," James said. "Maybe I wouldn't be bumping into things. Maybe I'm more aware than that and the dreams are a kind of memory of what I've done. And—and the night Elias died, when I dreamed—it was different from the others. He seemed to see me. He recognized me." 

Anna, who had been pacing, stopped in her tracks. "He said your name?" 

"No," James had to admit. "I saw recognition spark in his eyes—he said something, I think it was, 'It's you.' But he didn't say my name."

His friends exchanged worried glances. "I see why you didn't want Cordelia here," Anna said finally. "To tell her you think you were responsible for the death of her father—"

"Though you weren't, James," Lucie put in

"I do want her here, actually," James said. "I thought she and Matthew would be back by now. I can't keep this from her. A conspiracy of silence like that—" He shook his head. "No. If she despises me after, then I will need you to be there for her. Her friends."

"She will not," Dahlia began, "despise you, James—" 

As if on cue, they all heard the sound of a motorcar coming to a stop in front of the house. Dahlia held up a hand and ran to open the door.

 The cold air outside cut sharply through the cotton. It was not snowing, but a fog had come in with the setting sun, softening the edges of the city, making the motorcar look like a faerie carriage drawn by invisible horses

She leaned against the doorjamb as Matthew, a shadow in the fog, came around the car to help Cordelia out. The blanket wrapped around her started to slip down as she stood, but Matthew caught it before it reached the ground and carefully rearranged it around her shoulders. Even through the fog, Dahlia could see her smile.

Dahlia bit her lips, and swallowed down a painful emotion.

"Daisy!" Dahlia called. "Math! Get inside. You'll freeze." 

A moment later they were hurrying past her into the entryway, Matthew reaching to help Cordelia off with her coat.

Dahlia had her hands behind her, fidgeting with her fingers.

They both looked windburned, high color in their cheeks. Matthew was chattering about the car.

Dahlia gave them a small smile, "Come on, Daisy you have guests." 

Cordelia looked a bit baffled but followed after her.

"Anna, Lucie, Thomas, James and Christopher are in the drawing room," she said. "James  asked them to come."

Matthew frowned, pulling off his goggles. "Is everything all right?"

"Not quite," said Dahlia, and added, as they both turned apprehensive faces toward her, "There hasn't been another death—nothing like that." 

James stood at the doorway of the Drawing Room.

"But things are not all right?" Matthew said. "Has something else happened? The Enclave done something dreadful?" 

"The Enclave is torn between thinking it's a warlock gone rogue and thinking it's a Shadowhunter," said James, before Dahlia could respond. "But Thomas and Anna can tell you more about that. I need to talk to Cordelia for a moment. If you don't mind, Math."

A flicker of emotion crossed Matthew's face but vanished before Dahlia could identify it. "Of course," he said, sliding his hand into Dahlia's and taking them away to the Drawing Room.

"Would you like to come with me in the motorcar?" Matthew asked, breaking the silence.

Dahlia tilted her head. "Maybe, but we have more important things to worry about, love."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, "Such as?"

"Well for one, your parabatai thinks he's a murderer. Oh don't worry, I threw a book at him. The others won't hear it, at all. James has come to the conclusion, because he saw a few circles in the snow outside his windowsill and a few dreams of the murders that he's the murderer."

Matthew's eyes widened. "Jamie, a murderer? We are talking about my James, right?"

Dahlia sighed. "Yes Matthew, James Herondale."

"It's ridiculous. James is not a murderer." Matthew protested as they entered the Drawing Room Everyone's eyes snapped to them.

"You tell him that. Now go find a seat, far, far, far away from me." Dahlia said smiling sweetly. Matthew looked worried.

"Your covered in snow, you bastard." Dahlia said rolling her eyes. Matthew seemed to relax a little.

 Matthew went and seated himself at the back of the sofa, Dahlia kept pacing.

At that moment the door opened and James and Cordelia spilled in. Matthew turned toward James as he entered the room, his eyes dark with worry.

Anna's blue gaze flicked to Cordelia. "Did you tell her?"

Cordelia released James's wrist. "I know everything," she said. Her voice was very level.

"It's ridiculous," Matthew said, sliding off the sofa back. "James, you can't really believe—"

"I understand why he believes it," Cordelia said, and Matthew stopped mid-motion. Every face in the room was turned to Cordelia. "There were two things I thought when I met Belial. First, that I would do anything in the world to get away from him. And second, that it would not matter what I did, because his focus was entirely on James. It has been for some time now. If there is a way he can reach him ... he will."

"But James is not a murderer," said Lucie. "He would never—"

"I don't think he's one either," said Cordelia. "If Belial is controlling him, then none of this is his fault. He cannot be blamed. Any of us would do the same, for the power of a Prince of Hell—" She shook her head. "It is unstoppable."

"I tried to stop myself, last night," James said. "And still somehow I woke with the ropes in pieces all around me." 

Dahlia choked. "I'm sorry, what ?"

"You cannot do this alone," said Cordelia. "In fact, if we are to prove anything at all about what is really going on, you cannot be alone for a moment." 

"She is right," Anna said. "We will remain here tonight, keeping watch. If you try to leave the house, we will know." 

"Not if he tries to get out the window," Christopher pointed out, reasonably. 

"We nail it shut," said Thomas, getting into the spirit of the thing.

"And someone sits with James. Lets him sleep, but watches what happens," said Matthew. "I'll do it." 

"It might be better if Cordelia did it," James said quietly.

Matthew looked a little hurt. "Why?"

Dahlia smiled softly at him before she could say something Cordelia said, "Because I have Cortana, I have wounded Belial with Cortana before; if necessary, I suppose ..." For the first time she looked doubtful. "I could do so again."

Dahlia looked at her feet.

"Indeed," said James. "She can strike me down if necessary."

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Lucie, bolting to her feet. "There will be no striking down of anyone!" 

"Except Belial," remarked Christopher. "If he makes an appearance—on his own, you know, not inside James, as it were."

"Just wound me, then," James said to Cordelia. "Stab me in the leg if you need to. The left one, if you can—I'm fonder of my right." 

"Just promise you'll call out, if you need us," Matthew said. He exchanged a long look with James. 

"So it's decided," said Anna. "We will wait down here tonight and make sure James never leaves his room; Cordelia will stand guard upstairs. And I will raid the larder, since we are likely to get hungry. An army marches on its stomach, as the saying goes." 

"So how are we planning to stay awake all night?" Dahlia inquired. 

"I could read to you all from The Beautiful Cordelia," Lucie suggested. "I have some pages in my handbag. One never knows when inspiration may strike."

"Oh Lord," said Matthew, reaching for his flask. "In that case, I'll be needing brandy. What was it Lord Byron said? 'Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.'" He raised the flask in a salute. "Lucie, begin. As the demons of Hell are battled upstairs, so we shall battle the demons of romantic prose in the drawing room." 

♕