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million pieces. Over the tunic and the girdle, she drew a wispy veil of dark purple silk. She covered her hair with it, wrapped it around her throat, and draped it over her body to hide the pistol in the back.
    She felt like there was no amount of preparation for this ritual that would suffice, but had to be satisfied with what she’d done. She’d just finished wrapping the veil around her body when the knocker on the door sounded. It echoed through the house like a death knell. She knew Fingle would escort Lazarus to the morning room so she went to fetch Quinn. He’d already left his room so she went into the nursery to get Fenix.
    The baby was deeply asleep. Bryn stared down at her sleeping sister. Fear so profound she felt dizzy washed over her. What if she was making a terrible mistake? Tears filled her eyes as Fenix sucked her tiny thumb while sleeping. Her red-gold hair was a cap of curls framing her perfect face. Her skin was porcelain traced with delicate blue veins. Bryn touched the soft curls with the flat of her hand, stroking them lightly. Fenix smiled around the thumb and her rosebud mouth twitched.
    Bryn took a deep shuddering breath and lifted her sister, wrapping her in the gold silk coverlet she’d slept under while a babe since they’d lived in Rome under the rule of the Medici. She carried Fenix down the narrow staircase into the morning room where she found Quinn standing like a thundercloud over Lazarus and a nun. The nun’s face held a familiar note but Bryn could not place her. From her habit, with its white wimple, white collar and black gown, Bryn knew she was of the order of St. Madeleine. She’d drawn her purple cape close about her and sat huddled in a chair next to Lazarus. Every few minutes she would glance at Lazarus with such a look of love and devotion, Bryn’s stomach lurched. What had he done to seduce this young nun to the dark side?
    Lazarus wore a black velvet suit popular in the early part of the century. White lace foamed at his collar and cuffs. His shoes sported enormous silver buckles and a gold chain hung around his neck with an enormous ruby pendant.
    Quinn gave her no time to wonder about the nun. He grabbed her arm. “He says I am not allowed to see or participate in his oh-so-secret ritual.”
    Bryn sighed and gently removed his hand. “Then you shall not. I am committed to this course of action and cannot draw back now.”
    She glanced at the black slate clock on the mantel. It was ten minutes to midnight. Lazarus saw where she was looking and his thin lips turned up in an evil leer. “Ready, my dear?”
    Bryn shrugged and clutched Fenix tighter. “As I will ever be.”
    â€œThen let us go to the roof.” He held his hand out to the nun. “This is Sister Mary Francis of the Order of les Madeleine’s. She will assist me.”
    Bryn shuddered. Whatever Lazarus had in mind for the nun could not be good. She hesitated, almost ready to call off the entire thing, but knew Lazarus would do whatever he had planned for the nun even if she stopped the ritual. Sister Mary Francis was doomed.
    Quinn protested one more time. “You need me up there to protect you,” he hissed into her ear.
    â€œThere is nothing you can do to protect me from him,” she said in an under voice. “If he wishes me harm, I will suffer. But remember, I cannot die. Either wait here or in your chamber. I will come to you when it is over.”
    He let go of her. His face reflected gross distaste when he glanced at Lazarus. The vampire grinned at him showing his fangs. Bryn had to lay an admonishing hand on his arm to stop him from lunging at Lazarus. “You are mortal,” she said. “You, he can kill. Please do as I say.”
    â€œI love you,” he said as he shot Lazarus a glare from under thunderous brows.
    She patted his hand. “And I you.” She turned to Lazarus. “Is there anything you need to