"I remember precisely." Matthew lifted his head. "I was playing a game with it many years ago, on All Souls' Night. It was then that I lost my wager."

"That's next week." Miriam shifted in her seat so that she could meet Sarah's eyes. "Would timewalking be easier around the feasts of All Saints and All Souls?"

"Miriam," Matthew snarled, but it was too late.

"What's timewalking?" Nathaniel whispered to Sophie.

"Mama was a timewalker," Sophie whispered back. "She was good at it, too, and always came back from the 1700s with lots of ideas for pots and jugs."

"Your mother visited the past?" Nathaniel asked faintly. He looked around the room at the motley a.s.sortment of creatures, then at his wife's belly. "Does that run in witches' families, too, like second sight?"

Sarah answered Miriam over the daemons' whispered conversation. "There's not much keeping the living from the dead between Halloween and All Souls. It would be easier to slip between the past and the present then."

Nathaniel looked more anxious. "The living and the dead? Sophie and I just came to deliver that statue or whatever it is so she can sleep through the night."

"Will Diana be strong enough?" Marcus asked Matthew, ignoring Nathaniel.

"This time of year, it should be much easier for Diana to timewalk," Sarah mused aloud.

Sophie looked contentedly around the table. "This reminds me of the old days when granny and her sisters got together and gossiped. They never seemed to pay attention to one another, but they always knew what had been said."

The room's many competing conversations stopped abruptly when the dining-room doors banged open and shut, followed by a booming sound produced by the heavier keeping-room doors. Nathaniel, Miriam, and Marcus shot to their feet.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" Marcus asked.

"The house," I said wearily. "I'll go see what it wants."

Matthew scooped up the figurine and followed me.

The old woman with the embroidered bodice was waiting at the keeping room's threshold.

"h.e.l.lo, ma'am." Sophie had followed right behind and was nodding politely to the old woman. She scrutinized my features. "The lady looks a bit like you, doesn't she?"

So you've chosen your road, the old woman said. Her voice was fainter than before.

"We have," I said. Footsteps sounded behind me as the remaining occupants of the dining room came to see what the commotion was about.

You'll be needing something else for your journey, she replied. she replied.

The coffin doors swung open, and the press of creatures at my back was matched by the crowd of ghosts waiting by the fireplace.

This should be interesting, my grandmother said drily from her place at the head of the ghostly bunch. my grandmother said drily from her place at the head of the ghostly bunch.

There was a rumbling in the walls like bones rattling. I sat in my grandmother's rocker, my knees no longer able to hold my weight.

A crack developed in the paneling between the window and the fireplace. It stretched and widened in a diagonal slash. The old wood shuddered and squeaked. Something soft with legs and arms flew out of the gap. I flinched when it landed in my lap.

"Holy s.h.i.t," Sarah said.

That paneling will never look the same, my grandmother commented, shaking her head regretfully at the cracked wood. my grandmother commented, shaking her head regretfully at the cracked wood.

Whatever flew at me was made of rough-spun fabric that had faded to an indiscriminate grayish brown. In addition to its four limbs, it had a lump where the head belonged, adorned with faded tufts of hair. Someone had st.i.tched an X where the heart should be.

"What is it?" I reached my index finger toward the uneven, rusty st.i.tches.

"Don't touch it!" Em cried.

"I'm already touching it," I said, looking up in confusion. "It's sitting on my lap."

"I've never seen such an old poppet," said Sophie, peering down at it.

"Poppet?" Miriam frowned. "Didn't one of your ancestors get in trouble over a poppet?"

"Bridget Bishop." Sarah, Em, and I said the name at the same moment.

The old woman with the embroidered bodice was now standing next to my grandmother.

"Is this yours?" I whispered.

A smile turned up one corner of Bridget's mouth. Remember to be canny when you find yourself at a crossroads, daughter Remember to be canny when you find yourself at a crossroads, daughter. There's no telling what secrets are buried there There's no telling what secrets are buried there.

Looking down at the poppet, I lightly touched the X on its chest. The fabric split open, revealing a stuffing made of leaves, twigs, and dried flowers and releasing the scent of herbs into the air. "Rue," I said, recognizing it from Marthe's tea.

"Clover, broom, knotweed, and slippery elm bark, too, from the smell of it." Sarah gave the air a good sniff. "That poppet was made to draw someone-Diana, presumably-but it's got a protection spell on it, too."

You did well by her, Bridget told my grandmother with an approving nod at Sarah. Bridget told my grandmother with an approving nod at Sarah.

Something was gleaming through the brown. When I pulled at it gently, the poppet came apart in pieces.

And there's an end to it, Bridget said with a sigh. My grandmother put a comforting arm around her. Bridget said with a sigh. My grandmother put a comforting arm around her.

"It's an earring." Its intricate golden surfaces caught the light, and an enormous, teardrop-shaped pearl shone at the end.

"How the h.e.l.l did one of my mother's earrings get into Bridget Bishop's poppet?" Matthew's face was back to that pasty gray color.

"Were your mother's earrings in the same place as your chess set on that long-ago night?" Miriam asked. Both the earring and the chess piece were old-older than the poppet, older than the Bishop house.

Matthew thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Is a week enough time? Can you be ready?" he asked me urgently.

"I don't know."

"Sure you'll be ready," Sophie crooned to her belly. "She'll make things right for you, little witch. You'll be her G.o.dmother," Sophie said with a radiant smile. "She'll like that."

"Counting the baby-and not counting the ghosts, of course," Marcus said in a deceptively conversational tone that reminded me of the way Matthew spoke when he was stressed, "there are nine of us in this room."

"Four witches, three vampires, and two daemons," Sophie said dreamily, her hands still on her belly. "But we're short a daemon. Without one we can't be a conventicle. And once Matthew and Diana leave, we'll need another vampire, too. Is Matthew's mother still alive?"

"She's tired," Nathaniel said apologetically, his hands tightening on his wife's shoulders. "It makes it difficult for her to focus."

"What did you say?" Em asked Sophie. She was struggling to keep her voice calm.

Sophie's eyes lost their dreaminess. "A conventicle. That's what they called a gathering of dissenters in the old days. Ask them." She inclined her head in the direction of Marcus and Miriam.

"I told you this wasn't about the Bishops or the de Clermonts," Em said to Sarah. "It's not even about Matthew and Diana and whether they can be together. It's about Sophie and Nathaniel, too. It's about the future, just as Diana said. This is how we'll fight the Congregation-not just as individual families but as a-What did you call it?"

"Conventicle," Miriam answered. "I always liked that word-so delightfully ominous." She settled back on her heels with a satisfied smile.

Matthew turned to Nathaniel. "It would seem your mother was right. You do belong here, with us."

"Of course they belong here," Sarah said briskly. "Your bedroom is ready, Nathaniel. It's upstairs, the second door to the right."

"Thank you," Nathaniel said, a note of cautious relief in his voice, though he still eyed Matthew warily.

"I'm Marcus." Matthew's son held out his hand to the daemon. Nathaniel clasped it firmly, barely reacting to the shocking coldness of vampire flesh.

"See? We didn't need to make reservations at that hotel, sweetie," Sophie told her husband with a beatific smile. She looked for Em in the crowd. "Are there more cookies?"

Chapter 40.

A few days later, Sophie was sitting at the kitchen island with half a dozen pumpkins and a sharp knife when Matthew and I came in from our walk. The weather had turned colder, and there was a dreary hint of winter in the air. few days later, Sophie was sitting at the kitchen island with half a dozen pumpkins and a sharp knife when Matthew and I came in from our walk. The weather had turned colder, and there was a dreary hint of winter in the air.

"What do you think?" Sophie asked, turning the pumpkin. It had the hollow eyes, arched eyebrows, and gaping mouth of all Halloween pumpkins, but she had transformed the usual features into something remarkable. Lines pulled away from the mouth, and the forehead was creased, setting the eyes themselves slightly off-kilter. The overall effect was chilling.

"Amazing!" Matthew looked at the pumpkin with delight.

She bit her lip, regarding her work critically. "I'm not sure the eyes are right."

I laughed. "At least it has has eyes. Sometimes Sarah can't be bothered and just pokes three round holes in the side with the end of a screwdriver and calls it a day." eyes. Sometimes Sarah can't be bothered and just pokes three round holes in the side with the end of a screwdriver and calls it a day."

"Halloween is a busy holiday for witches. We don't always have time for the finer details," Sarah said sharply, coming out of the stillroom to inspect Sophie's work. She nodded with approval. "But this year we'll be the envy of the neighborhood."

Sophie smiled shyly and pulled another pumpkin toward her. "I'll do a less scary one next. We don't want to make the little kids cry."

With less than a week to go until Halloween, Em and Sarah were in a flurry of activity to get ready for the Madison coven's annual fall bash. There would be food, free-flowing drink (including Em's famous punch, which had at least one July birth to its credit), and enough witchy activities to keep the sugar-high children occupied and away from the bonfire after they'd been trick-or-treating. Bobbing for apples was much more challenging when the fruit in question had been put under a spell.

My aunts hinted that they would cancel their plans, but Matthew just shook his head.

"Everyone in town would wonder if you didn't show up. This is just a typical Halloween."

We'd all looked dubious. After all, Sarah and Em weren't the only ones counting the hours to Halloween.

Last night Matthew had laid out the gradual departure of everyone in the house, starting with Nathaniel and Sophie and ending with Marcus and Miriam. It would, he believed, make our own departure less conspicuous-and it was not open to discussion.

Marcus and Nathaniel had exchanged a long look when Matthew finished his announcement, which concluded with the daemon shaking his head and pressing his lips together and the younger vampire staring fixedly at the table while a muscle in his jaw throbbed.

"But who will hand out the candy?" Em asked.

Matthew looked thoughtful. "Diana and I will do it."

The two young men had stormed out of the room when we broke up to go our separate ways, mumbling something about getting milk. They'd then climbed into Marcus's car and torn down the driveway.

"You've got to stop telling them what to do," I chided Matthew, who had joined me at the front door to watch their departure. "They're both grown men. Nathaniel has a wife, and soon he'll have a child."

"Left to their own devices, Marcus and Nathaniel would have an army of vampires on the doorstep tomorrow."

"You won't be here to order them around next week," I reminded him, watching the taillights as they turned toward town. "Your son will be in charge."

"That's what I'm worried about."

The real problem was that we were in the midst of an acute outbreak of testosterone poisoning. Nathaniel and Matthew couldn't be in the same room without sparks flying, and in the increasingly crowded house it was hard for them to avoid each other.

Their next argument occurred that afternoon when a delivery arrived. It was a box with BIOHAZARD written all over the sealing tape in large red letters.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" Marcus asked, carrying the box gingerly into the family room. Nathaniel looked up from his laptop, his brown eyes widening with alarm.

"That's for me," Matthew said smoothly, taking the box from his son.

"My wife is pregnant!" Nathaniel said furiously, snapping his laptop closed. "How could you bring that into the house?"

"It's immunizations for Diana." Matthew barely kept his annoyance in check.

I put aside my magazine. "What immunizations?"

"You're not going to the past without every possible protection from disease. Come to the stillroom," Matthew said, holding out his hand.

"Tell me what's in the box first."

"Booster vaccines-teta.n.u.s, typhoid, polio, diphtheria-as well as some vaccines you probably haven't had, like a new one-shot rabies preventive, the latest flu shots, an immunization for cholera." He paused, still holding out his hand. "And a smallpox vaccine."

"Smallpox?" They'd stopped giving smallpox vaccines to schoolchildren a few years before I was born. That meant Sophie and Nathaniel hadn't been immunized either.

Matthew reached down and hoisted me to my feet. "Let's get started," he said firmly.

"You aren't going to stick needles into me today."

"Better needles today than smallpox and lockjaw tomorrow," he countered.

"Wait a minute." Nathaniel's voice sounded in the room like a cracking whip. "The smallpox vaccine makes you contagious. What about Sophie and the baby?"

"Explain it to him, Marcus," Matthew ordered, stepping aside so I could pa.s.s.

"Not contagious with smallpox, exactly." Marcus tried to be rea.s.suring. "It's a different strain of the disease. Sophie will be fine, provided she doesn't touch Diana's arm or anything it comes into contact with."