Author's notes: Okay, the notes are going to be a bit long. Bear with me and read them, because it will make certain things clearer. First of all, the title is again from a line in the books. As usual, since I've finished two books and started another one, I don't know which book, it's either Burnt Offerings or Blue Moon, probably Burnt Offerings.

Flanders is the former name of what is now Belgium. It was also known as the Spanish Netherlands. Where the Netherlands were mostly Protestant by the 17th century, Flanders was staunchly Catholic and under the control of Spain. Luxembourg is a small country that lays between Germany to the east and Belgium and France to the west. In the 17th century, it was still just a duchy, however.

Certain historical figures are mentioned within the context of the story and I took the liberty of using them wherever I saw fit. ;-) The Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg actually existed, as did the Archduke of Flanders. Rubens, as I'm sure everyone knows, was one of the great 17th century Baroque painters. While I used quite a bit of artistic license by including him in the story (and thus, explaining a little more the portrait of JC, Asher, and Julianna), any details I mention, such as his appearance, manner of dress, diplomatic work for the Archduke, are all true. Nice to be able to use my seven years of art historical study for something besides writing term papers ;-)

Finally, those of us that like Anita Blake books know that there are often inconsistencies and/or things that change from book to book (I'm not complaining, it's just something that happens). Jean-Claude's age is a good example of that. In The Killing Dance, Anita sees the painting of Jean-Claude, Asher, and Julianna for the first time. They are wearing 17th century dress and she realizes that he is at least 100 years older than she'd thought. When she questions him about it, he admits that he has always had a talent for hiding his true age and that, while traveling with Asher and Julianna, he'd fooled other vampires into thinking he was 100 years older than he was. In Burnt Offerings, however, she thinks to herself that if Jean-Claude missed the French Revolution, it wasn't by much. The French Revolution was from 1789-1793. This reduces JC's age by at least 100 years again. Because this story is about JC, Asher, and Julianna, I'm going with the earlier date. I have also appropriated some of Hamilton's terms, such as avatar for a human that is enslaved to a vampire's will through one or two bites. By the way, I use some French titles in the course of the story. Comtesse is the French equivalent of Countess and Marquis is also a French title, I think just below Count, but I'm not 100% sure.

Now, on with the story...

Antwerp, Flanders, 1634

They were all going to die! Every last one of them! Rage poured through him, so overpowering that his whole body shook. Jean-Claude looked down again at the ravaged body of his dear Asher, his chardonneret, his goldfinch. Jean-Claude looked at Asher's once-perfect face and cried blood-tinged tears of rage and pain. Blessedly, Asher was unconscious now, though he whimpered and stirred restlessly in his sleep. Jean-Claude took his hand and held it tight, trying to chase away the nightmares with his presence. Julianna. Jean-Claude sucked in a shuddering breath at the thought of her, Julianna was gone. Jean-Claude had arrived one day too late. The square in front of the prison had still reeked of the smell of her burnt flesh when he'd passed through it last night. He curled his fists tight. Yes, they were all going to pay!

When he'd arrived, careful questioning had revealed that while it was too late for Julianna, Asher still lived. Time was of the essence, however. He watched the entrance to the witchfinder's prison for hours before he was finally rewarded for his patience. Around 2 am, one of the guards came out of the heavy wooden door alone. Within moments, Jean-Claude waylaid him. Clamping a hand over the man's mouth, he pulled him into an alley and bared his throat. He didn't bother to roll him; he wanted it to hurt. Taking his blood allowed him to force the guard to his will and he was able to get into the prison before the city clock struck 3 am. After that, it was easy. He killed the two other guards just inside the door, casually ripping out their throats, despite their crosses. The guard he'd bitten lured the first one from the little guardroom set just beyond the gate out into the passageway alone and then pulled the cross from his neck, allowing Jean-Claude to step from the shadows and kill him with impunity. He killed the second one inside the room in much the same way. (Foolish humans, they'd thought themselves safe because they were in the catacombs below the church and had only worn a simple crucifix around their necks.) Careful not to get too much blood on the second guard's clothing, Jean-Claude dressed himself in his uniform and, together, he and the avatar walked to Asher's cell. He had the avatar remove the crosses from the door and unlock it. Once inside, Jean-Claude scarcely recognized the nude, nearly lifeless body hanging limply from the cross-laden chains before him. The whoresons had poured holy water, drop by drop, over his face and body. His left side was still perfect and smooth. The right side looked like an open wound. Between Julianna's death and the holy water, if Asher hadn't been a Master, he'd surely be dead. As it was, Jean-Claude wasn't sure at first that he wasn't too late to save Asher as well. Again, he used the avatar to remove the crosses from the manacles. Then he carefully held Asher's body while the avatar unlocked his wrists and ankles so that he wouldn't fall into the filthy straw that covered the stone floor. Afterwards, he and the avatar carried Asher out past the few remaining guards ("the bishops want to question him again") without anyone questioning him.

It had taken perhaps 20 minutes to get into the prison and retrieve Asher. Jean-Claude had found an abandoned farmhouse 30 miles from the city before he'd come to rescue him. He had then rented a coach and driver who would ask no questions. Once the avatar had helped him carry Asher to the coach, he considered killing him, but decided to bring him along. Asher would need blood this evening if he were going to survive. After they arrived at the farmhouse, the driver was struck down and restrained, as well. After all, the man could not be allowed to carry tales back to the city and there was no point in wasting vital blood.

Having seen what the witchfinders had done to his poor chardonneret, Jean-Claude was worried that 30 miles was too close. What if they were found while they slept? They had no contacts they could call upon here and no one to keep them safe while the sun was up. No vampire would dare offend their Dark Mistress by molesting them, as long as they offered no challenge or insult. However, while they had made no enemies, they'd acquired no allies either. Meanwhile, it had been years since they had seen a shapeshifter, let alone Call one. Asher moaned again and Jean-Claude carefully brushed his matted hair back from his face. He would have to trust that the witchfinders would thoroughly search the city before checking the countryside and then get Asher as far away as he could tomorrow evening. But once Asher was safe, once he was where these bastards could not touch him again---Jean-Claude would return and teach these defilers the true meaning of fear! He took a deep, calming breath. For right now, however, if he was going to keep Asher alive over the next few days, he needed to reign in his emotions and think rationally.

They had been arrogant, he, Asher, and Julianna. They had grown too complacent and too sure of their invincibility. They looked at the humans around them and saw them as food and as playthings, not potential enemies. Aristocrats typically stayed up all night due to balls and other such entertainments and then slept most of the day. This made it easy to blend in and hide what they were and they had traveled through the courts and countryside of Europe without care. Yet Jean-Claude was newly dead and Julianna had only been a human servant for 35 years. There had always been the possibility that someone, somewhere, might recognize them. It was that carelessness that had led to the capture of Asher and Julianna. They should have realized the danger, especially since it was just such an accidental meeting with Jean-Claude's foster brother that had sent him sailing home to his dying mother.

Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, 1634 (One Month Earlier)

The ballroom was crowded with elegantly dressed men and women. Overhead, hundreds of lit candles flickered in the chandeliers, lighting the room as if it were day. More candles festooned the wall sconces. Beeswax perfumed the air, fighting for primacy over the smell of expensive perfumes from the Holy Land and, underneath that, the scent of unwashed bodies. In the far corner, musicians played a lively pavan for the dancers in the center of the room. Although it was October and quite chilly outside, all of the windows and doors were wide open to freshen the air. Asher and Julianna were among the dancers, moving with a sensuous grace that drew numerous eyes throughout the room. Meanwhile, Jean-Claude stood near the balcony doors, flirting with the lovely Comtesse Isabella Grava. In less than 15 minutes, he had learned that she was visiting her sister and brother-in-law from Italy, that she was second cousin to the Medicis, and that her husband wouldn't be in her room that night. She was disclosing the location of her bedroom when he heard a voice that he hadn't heard in twenty-five years.

"Jean-Claude?"

Jean-Claude turned with trepidation. Never had he ever expected to see Philippe again. He looked at the heavy- set, graying man before him and saw in him the slender, arrogant boy that had been his companion for most of his childhood. He schooled his features into a calm, almost bored mask.

"Oui, my name is Jean-Claude. Have we met?"

Philippe looked confused for a moment.

"I am sorry, monsieur, I thought for a moment ...but of course, there is no way that you could be who I thought you were. You are much too young, yet... Might your father be Jean-Claude de Bouvier?"

Jean-Claude barely noticed when the Comtesse left, her annoyance at his inattention clear in every line of her body. Instead, he weighed claiming to be his own son versus the possibility of convincing Philippe that he only bore a remarkable resemblance to the Jean-Claude that he had known before. He could, of course, lure him outside and kill him, but that thought was distasteful to him. Philippe had been his best friend, his confidant, his entrée into aristocratic society. He had been his brother, of sorts. No, he didn't want to kill him. He chose, instead, from among the possible lies.

"Oui, my father was Jean-Claude de Bouvier. Did you know him, monsieur?"

Philippe smiled broadly.

"Your father was my dearest childhood friend. Pardon me, monsieur, I have not introduced myself. I am Philippe Louis-Eduard Falconet, Marquis de Bouvier. Perhaps he spoke of me?" He asked.

Jean-Claude relaxed somewhat at Philippe's easy acceptance of him as the son of the boy he'd known. However, Philippe's knowledge of his lack of nobility could cause its own problems. In Luxembourg, as in a number of other European countries, it was against the law for the low-born to pass themselves off as noblemen. Just last year, in nearby Trier, Germany, two servingwomen had been stripped in the street and beaten for wearing silk and pearls.

Lowering his voice, Jean-Claude leaned close to the Marquis. "I know all about my father's childhood." He smiled to soften the hint of warning in his voice before he continued. "He did indeed speak of you warmly and often."

Philippe lowered his voice, as well. "I hope you realize, Jean-Claude, I would never reveal your father's situation. He was like a brother to me and I was very happy for him when he went with the Duchess de Morney all those years ago." The older man grinned. "Truthfully, I was a bit jealous, she was quite lovely and obviously very taken with him." He stepped back and looked at Jean-Claude, resplendent in cobalt blue silk that nearly matched his eyes. Pure white lace spilled from his collar and cuffs. Silver embroidery and pearls covered both sleeves. "Apparently your father did quite well for himself, Jean-Claude. Never would I hurt him by declaring to the Court that you don't belong here when obviously you do. But you must tell me, what are you doing here in Luxembourg?"

Jean-Claude told him the story that he, Asher, and Julianna had used throughout their travels, in one form or another.

"As was my father, I am a courtier in the Duchess's court. I'm accompanying her youngest son, Asher, on his Tour, as well as acquiring art and books for my Mistress. Currently, we are visiting the Duke of Luxembourg and his family. We met his lovely wife in Milan and she insisted we visit."

As with the best lies, there was more than a grain a truth to the tale. They were collecting art and books and sending them to their Dark Mistress, who was known in the human world as the Duchess de Morney. It was the only reason she had been willing to let Jean-Claude leave her court to go with Asher. They had also met the Duchess of Luxembourg in Milan, she had found Asher and Jean-Claude quite fascinating and had been extremely reluctant to return home without their promise that they would visit her there. Julianna had found that very amusing to watch the older woman fawn over the two men and had told the Duchess that of course they would visit.

"If you are collecting art, you really must meet Monsieur Rubens. Antwerp is only a week or so away and I can write you a letter of introduction and send it to you tomorrow if you'd like." Philippe said.

Jean-Claude had had the pleasure of seeing some of Rubens's work in Mantua while they were still in Italy and had been greatly impressed. "I would like that very much. Thank you. Ah, I see companions are returning. Allow me to introduce you."

Philippe looked up to see two of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen walking towards them, second only to Jean-Claude. The man's hair blazed gold in the candlelight, set off perfectly by the emerald silk of his coat. He was escorting a lady who was exquisite in her midnight-blue gown, overlaid with gold embroidery. The diamonds and sapphires set into the bodice sparkled with her every moment. Her chestnut hair was gathered into an elaborate hairstyle that spilled down in a riot of curls along the right side of her head and across her shoulder. The candlelight picked out the dark red highlights of her hair.

"Of course!" Philippe replied. "But before they get here, I must tell you something. Your father's mother still lives on Bouvier lands. I don't know if it is of a concern to you, but I think you should know that she's been quite ill lately. It is doubtful that she will live through the winter."

His mother...Jean-Claude hadn't thought of her in a very long time. He'd left her house when he was barely 6 years old and had rarely been allowed to see her in the intervening years. Yet he remembered her cuddling him in her lap before the fire and singing lullabies to him. He remembered the times that she had told him that she wasn't hungry so that she could give him her share of the little food that was available. Unexpectedly, he found that he wanted a chance to see her once more before she died. Granted, by giving him to the Marquis's family, his parents had ensured that they and the rest of their children had plenty of food, but they had truly believed they were doing the best they could by him. Truthfully, if they hadn't done so, he would have lived and died as an illiterate peasant. Consequently, even though he still bore marks from his time as the Marquis's whipping boy, he held no ill feelings towards them for their decision.

Jean-Claude introduced Philippe to Asher and Julianna and the four of them spent several minutes discussing their travels and mutual acquaintances before Philippe asked Julianna to dance, leaving the two vampires alone by the balcony door. Asher knew all about Jean-Claude's past and had recognized Philippe as soon as he heard the name. He smiled and raised his untouched glass of champagne in a salute as Julianna and Philippe danced past them.

"Are you sure it's wise, Jean-Claude?" Asher asked, quietly.

"Wise?" Jean-Claude asked.

"Do you think it's wise to interact with someone from your past? Someone that knew you so intimately? This is a dangerous game, mon cher. Such as we have been burned for less." He answered.

Jean-Claude looked into Asher's eyes. The implied suggestion that Philippe should be killed lay unspoken between them.

"He is willing to accept that I am the son of the boy he knew, mon chardonneret. I know that there is some danger to this charade, but we can leave tomorrow and he will never know what we are." Jean-Claude said.

Asher brushed Jean-Claude's hair back from his shoulder. "We will do it your way, mon rossignol, my nightingale. However, it might be best if Philippe doesn't spend too much time in your presence. I suggest we take our leave as soon as Julianna returns."

Jean-Claude's smile was full of promise. "I was planning on suggesting we leave early, long before Philippe's unexpected arrival. Watching you and Julianna dance always inspires such suggestions."

The song ended and the three took their leave of Philippe.

*********

Dawn pressed close. Jean-Claude sat back against the massive headboard of the heavily-carved, solid oak bed, his nude body pale and lovely in the fading glow of the embers in the fireplace. Julianna's body pressed along the side of his body, her head pillowed by his hipbones. Her long dark curls spread across him, covering him like a soft, fragrant blanket from just below his chest to the top of his thighs. She was still breathing heavily. Asher was curled around her back. One arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. He held Jean-Claude's hand with his free hand. As they lay intertwined, Jean-Claude quietly told them about the conversation he'd had with Philippe. Julianna lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

"You want to go and see your mother, don't you?" Her tone made the question more of a statement. Jean- Claude was quiet for a moment.

"Yes. I don't really know why. I haven't thought of her in so long. But when Philippe mentioned that she was ill... I don't know. Perhaps it is the thought that she will soon die. I think I would like to see her once more." He replied.

Julianna turned look deep into Asher's eyes and lifted her head to kiss him softly. Then she turned back to Jean- Claude.

"Then it is settled. We will travel to Antwerp and rent a townhouse. You can get passage on a ship from there and sail to France to see your mother while we wait for you. Then, when you return, we can move on."

Jean-Claude combed his fingers through her hair, toying with the tight curls.

"I would like that, ma cherie." He replied, before gently pulling her up along his body to kiss her deeply. She pulled back enough to nip his lower lip and smiled.

"If you are leaving us for a while, mon bel homme, my beautiful man" she began, her voice soft and full of wicked promise. "Then we must make the most of every moment we have left before you go."

She leaned back until she was kneeling above him, her hair cloaking her shoulders and breasts and pooling in her lap. Both Jean-Claude and Asher appreciated the erotic picture she made with her nipples peaking through the dark, fire-kissed strands of hair. She turned to wrap her arms around Asher's neck and pulled him towards him. She licked his lower lip.

"Don't you agree, mon amour?" She asked.

Asher looked at her wicked smile for a moment before turning to give one of his own to Jean-Claude. He ran his fingertips up along Jean-Claude's arm.

"We have little time left before the sun rises, ma cherie, but I must say, I do most definitely agree."
It took a little more than a week to arrive in Antwerp and secure a furnished townhouse in a fashionable district. With her usual efficiency, Julianna arranged for a small number of servants within two days. Initially, Jean- Claude had planned to leave for the French harbor city of Calais as soon as they arrived at the city, leaving Julianna and Asher to take the letter of introduction from Philippe to Rubens's workshop. He soon learned, however, that it would be almost a week before he could arrange a private berth. So, once they were settled in, it was decided that the three of them would meet the artist together.

They had arranged to meet Rubens and tour his workshop shortly after the sun set for the evening and arrived at the obviously Italian-inspired house shortly after 6pm. They found the short, graying artist dressed like one of the finest courtiers at court. Given that he'd long been attached to the Archduke's court and had, in fact, traveled on several diplomatic missions for him, this was to be expected. Ruben's studio was quite large, with a number of works in various stages of completion set upon easels around the room. All of his apprentices had already left for the evening. Although they had seen his work in Italy, Asher, Julianna, and Jean-Claude were once again struck by the intense color and depth of his work. The monumental, life-sized figures seemed almost ready to step down from the canvas.

While they admired his work, the artist admired them. He wondered what the young woman's relationship was to the two men, but he kept his curiosity from his face. It never paid to insult the client in any way and implying that the young lady had a less than proper relationship with one or both of gentlemen, truth or not, would have been the height of insult. The dark-haired one turned and the candlelight made his eyes appear to glow like the purest sapphire. He realized he was staring and looked towards the other man. His coloring was quite incredible, as well. His hair was nearly the color of a gold coin. Though the young lady's coloring wasn't as striking as the gentlemen's, she was still quite lovely, though she was much more slender than what the artist considered the feminine ideal. He decided there and then that he must paint them. Julianna's voice broke his reverie.

"This are incredible, Monsieur Rubens. We've seen your work when we were in Mantua, but it's wonderful to have the opportunity to view your workshop and see your works in progress. Your reputation is well deserved!"

Rubens nodded his head in response to her praise. "You are too kind, Mademoiselle."

Asher turned from a different painting and walked over to join the pair. "She only speaks the truth. Quite honestly, these are perhaps the most fantastic paintings I have ever seen. We would be remiss if we did not acquire whatever you have for sell for our Mistress."

Always a sound businessman, Rubens turned his thoughts from what colors he would use to capture the highlights in Asher's hair towards more prosaic matters.

"Most of these paintings that you see here were commissioned by other patrons, Monsieur, but I certainly have several works from which you could choose. Also, if you have a specific subject matter in mind, I could have one or two smaller paintings completed for you in a few weeks time, depending upon how much of the work you would like me to do myself." The artist replied.

Jean-Claude looked over from across the room.

"I think I speak for us all when I say that I look forward to seeing the works you do have available for sell." He said.

"Good! Good!" Rubens replied, smiling. "Please, come up into my study. You can meet my wife and I will show you some of my other paintings. Then we will have a glass of wine together and work out a contract."

He held out his arm to Julianna. She placed her fingertips on his forearm and smiled back.

"That would be lovely!" She replied.

Later, after they had chosen several paintings and signed a contract for two small paintings with mythological subjects, the three sat with the artist before the fire in his study. Rubens decided that now was as good a time as any to raise the subject of painting their portraits.

"Now that we've concluded our business for the evening, I wonder if I might ask a favor of you." Rubens said.

Asher replied, "If it is in our power, Monsieur."

Rubens felt vaguely uncomfortable under their combined intense gaze. "I wonder if it might be possible to paint a portrait of the three of you. Your coloring and features are quite striking. Never have I seen three such beautiful subjects, especially all together..." He let the sentence trail off, somewhat embarrassed to have implied what he had just implied. He waited to see if they would take insult.

Jean-Claude smiled. "I am sorry, Monsieur. While I would consider it a great honor to have you paint me, I am leaving for France in four day's time."

Rubens, now only thinking of the logistics of completing the painting, waved his hand impatiently. "Bah! That is no problem! I can do a number of drawings of you over the next several days. Perhaps one quick oil sketch to capture the color of your hair and eyes. Then it is only a matter of placing you in the work, you do not have to physically be here for that."

Asher broke in. "We are quite busy during the day, Monsieur. We could only sit for you at night. Also, we don't know when we are leaving Antwerp as of yet. It may be a couple of months or it may be a couple of weeks. It depends upon how long it takes Jean-Claude to complete his business in France."

"I can promise to have the majority of the work accomplished within a week, if you and the lovely lady are willing to give up a few evenings." Rubens replied. However, he could see from their expressions they were still reluctant. He thought quickly. "I usually make a print of all my works. I could offer you the print from the portrait, if you'd like. One for each of you."

Julianna turned to Asher. "I would love to have a print of us, Asher. Would you mind sitting for Master Rubens for a few nights so very much, mon amour?"

Asher smiled tenderly at her and capitulated. "If Jean-Claude does not mind spending his last four evenings in Antwerp, sitting for him, then no, I do not mind either."

Julianna turned towards Jean-Claude. "Please, mon cher?"

He saw the eager light in Julianna's eyes and could deny her nothing. "I would love to have Monsieur Rubens paint me, ma douce, my sweet."

With that, it was decided. Rubens would paint a portrait of the three of them.

Antwerp, Flanders, 1634 (Two days after Jean-Claude sailed)

The thin, severely dressed man stood apart from the other revelers at ball. Magistrate Rogier Belfleur, Deacon of Antwerp Cathedral and Chief Witchfinder, didn't approve of such entertainments on principle. The Lord commanded that his people keep a chaste, modest life. Dancing and carousing to all hours of the night did not fit into his idea of a chaste and modest life. He had business with the gentleman hosting the party, however, and had agreed to attend so that they might meet for a while. Business had been satisfactorily concluded and he was making his way through the crowd towards the door when a pair of dancers caught his eye. Shocked, he stopped and stood stiffly against the wall, surveying a face he hadn't seen in over three decades. It couldn't be her! It was ridiculous! She was long dead, dead and gone! Even if she had somehow survived, against all odds, she would be over 50 years old now and this girl could not be more than 20 years old! He was obviously seeing a resemblance that could not exist!

He watched as the couple left the dance floor. As soon as they stopped near some chairs, a well-dressed, stout gentleman with graying hair approached them. The couple happily greeted him and they chatted companionably for a few moments before moving off to speak with the hostess. He watched for a few minutes to make sure they weren't returning and then made his way across the room to speak with the gentleman.

Belfleur stepped in front of him. "Pardon me, M'Lord, I don't believe we have been introduced. I am Rogier Belfleur, Deacon of Antwerp Cathedral and Magistrate of this district."

Philippe looked at the aging, almost gaunt man in front of him and smiled. "It is very nice to meet you, Monsieur Magistrate. My name is Philippe Louis-Eduard Falconet, Marquis de Bouvier."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, M'Lord. If you will excuse me, I wonder if I might ask you a question about the couple you were just speaking with."

Philippe laughed. "It begins again."

The Magistrate gave him a confused look. "I'm afraid I don't understand, M'Lord."

Philippe smiled broadly. "The same thing happened in Luxembourg. I believe at least a hundred people asked me about Asher, Julianna, and their companion, Jean-Claude, after I spoke with them that night. They are quite exquisite, are they not?"

Julianna? Was it another coincidence that the name was very similar to Juliet's? Belfleur looked over towards the couple again, now surrounded by almost fawning men and women and realized he hadn't answered the gentleman.

He turned back towards the Marquis. "Yes, they are. The woman looks particularly familiar. You know them, then, M'Lord?"

"Yes, of course." Philippe replied. "I met them in Luxembourg when I happened to meet the son of a dear childhood friend. He is the Jean-Claude that I mentioned."

So it was just an incredible coincidence. "Ah, then you know the family, M'Lord?" He asked.

"I knew Jean-Claude's father quite well, Monsieur. He became a courtier in the court of Asher's mother. When I saw Jean-Claude in Luxembourg, I thought for a moment that I'd seen a ghost. I knew immediately that his father had to be my old friend. The resemblance is quite uncanny. He is exactly as his father was at that age." Philippe replied.

So the Marquis hadn't known the three for long at all, but had only met them due to the resemblance of one of them to a long-ago friend. Just as this Julianna appeared the twin of Juliet. He pondered the likelihood of two people that looked exactly like someone else from the past. That was too much of a coincidence. Belfleur looked back towards the woman that was the very image of a girl he'd once known, had been betrothed to, in fact. Even in families that exhibited recurring familial traits, it was beyond rare to find children that looked exactly as their parents did. It seemed highly unlikely that two such people would exist, let alone travel together. Besides, Juliet died. She had been on her way to their wedding when bandits had set upon her entourage. Her badly decomposed body had been retrieved and buried in her family crypt. Consequently, there could have been no children to bear her face. As Chief Witchfinder for Antwerp, it was his job to keep the city safe from evil and, in his soul, he felt there was evil afoot in this. If nothing else, the situation merited investigation. After all, if this wasn't witchery, then the young lady had nothing to fear. But if it was... a cold smile spread across Belfleur's face.

Philippe was somewhat taken aback by the expression on Belfleur's face. "Is anything wrong, Monsieur?"

Belfleur turned again towards the Marquis. "I do not know yet, M'Lord, but I certainly intend to find out. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must go." He replied.

As Philippe watched the man leave, he felt a sense of unease. Although they had just met, he had a sense that the Magistrate was not someone that anyone would want too interested in him. Not at all.

continue?