The count laughed. “You still don’t understand the laws of time, Alastair. The mere fact that these two are here in front of you proves that your plan will not succeed. So maybe you shouldn’t rely on God’s help in this business too much. Or on my continued forbearance.” Suddenly there was an icy chill in his eyes and his voice, and I saw Lord Alastair flinch. For a split second all the arrogance was gone from his face, and his expression was one of naked fear.

“By changing the rules of the game, you have forfeited your life,” said the count in exactly the same voice as he had used to frighten me out of my wits at our last meeting. Suddenly I was convinced all over again that he was capable of cutting an enemy’s throat with his own hands.

“Your threat means nothing to me,” whispered Lord Alastair, but his face gave him the lie. Pale as death, he put a hand to his Adam’s apple.

“Oh, my dears, surely you’re not really leaving us already?” Lady Brompton came hurrying up, skirts rustling, looking happily around at us.

Count Saint-Germain’s features relaxed again, and there was nothing but goodwill in them. “Ah, here is our charming hostess. I must say you do your reputation credit, my lady. It’s a long time since I passed such an entertaining evening.”

Lord Alastair rubbed his throat. The color was slowly coming back into his cheeks.

“Satanas! Satanas!” cried Darth Vader angrily. “We will crush you, we will tear out your lying tongue with our own hands.…”

“My young friends here are as sorry as I am that we really have to leave now,” the count continued with a smile. “But you will soon be seeing them again at Lord and Lady Pympoole-Bothame’s ball.”

“A party is only as interesting as its guests,” said Lady Brompton. “So I would be very happy to welcome you here again soon. And your delightful young friends. It has been a great pleasure for us all.”

“The pleasure was entirely ours,” said Gideon, cautiously letting go of me as if he wasn’t sure whether I could stand on my own. Although the room was still swaying like a ship, and my thoughts seemed to be suffering a bad bout of seasickness too, when we said good-bye, I managed to pull myself together and do credit to my training by Giordano and, above all, James. I wasn’t even going to spare a glance for Lord Alastair and the ghost, who was still uttering savage threats. But I bobbed a curtsey to Lord and Lady Brompton, thanking them for the delightful evening, and I didn’t bat an eyelash when Lord Brompton left the trail of a moist kiss on my hand.

I sank in a very deep curtsey before the count, but I dared not look him in the face again. When he said quietly, “We shall see each other yesterday afternoon, then,” I just nodded and waited with downcast eyes until Gideon was beside me again, taking my arm. This time I let him lead me out of the salon.

* * *

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, Gwyneth, that wasn’t a party with your school friends! How could you?” Gideon was impatiently putting my shawl around my shoulders. He looked as if he’d like to shake me.

“I’m sorry,” I said for the umpteenth time.

“Lord Alastair is accompanied only by a page and his coachman,” whispered Rakoczy, materializing behind Gideon like some kind of jack-in-the-box. “The road and the church are safe. All the entrances to the church are guarded.”

“Come on, then,” said Gideon, taking my hand.

“I could carry the young lady,” Rakoczy suggested. “She seems rather unsteady on her feet.”

“A charming idea, but no thank you,” said Gideon. “She can manage that short distance on her own, can’t you?”

I nodded firmly.

It was raining harder now. After the Bromptons’ brightly lit salon, the way back to the church through the dark was even eerier than when we had set out. Once again the shadows seemed to be alive, once again I suspected that there could be a figure ready to pounce on us in every nook and cranny. “… will wipe that which is displeasing to God off the face of the earth,” the shadows seemed to whisper.

Gideon didn’t seem to like the look of the road either. He walked so fast that I had trouble in keeping up with him, and he didn’t say a single word. Unfortunately the rain did nothing to clear my head, nor did it stop the ground swaying. So I was extremely relieved when we arrived at the church and Gideon made me sit down on one of the pews in front of the altar. While he exchanged a few words with Rakoczy, I closed my eyes and cursed my stupidity. Granted, that punch had also had positive side effects, but all things considered, I’d have done better to stick to the no-alcohol pact that Lesley and I had made. It’s always easy to be wise after the event.

There was only a single candle burning on the altar, as there had been when we arrived, and apart from that small, flickering light, the church lay in darkness. When Rakoczy left—“All the doors and windows will be guarded by my men until you travel back”—I was overcome by fear. I looked up at Gideon, who had come back to my pew.

“It’s just as scary in here as outside. Why doesn’t he stay with us?”

“Out of politeness. He doesn’t want to listen to me shouting at you. But don’t worry, we’re on our own. Rakoczy’s men have searched every last corner.”

“How much longer before we travel back?”

“Not long now, Gwyneth. I suppose you realize that you did almost precisely the opposite of what you ought to have done? As usual, come to think of it.”

“You shouldn’t have left me alone—I bet that was also almost precisely the opposite of what you ought to have done!”

“Don’t go blaming me! First you get drunk, then you sing songs from modern musicals, and finally you behave like a lunatic in front of Lord Alastair, of all people! What was all that stuff about swords and demons?”

“I didn’t begin it. It was that black, uncanny gho—” But here I bit my lip. I couldn’t simply tell him about the ghosts I saw. He thought I was peculiar enough as it was.

Gideon totally misunderstood my sudden silence. “Oh, no! Please don’t throw up! Or if you must, do it somewhere well away from me.” He looked at me with slight revulsion. “Good heavens, Gwyneth, I can see that there’s something tempting in the idea of getting drunk at a party, but not that party!”

“I don’t feel like throwing up.” Not yet, at least. “And I never drink at parties—whatever Charlotte’s told you.”

“She hasn’t told me anything,” said Gideon.

I had to laugh. “No, sure. And she never claimed that Lesley and I have been out with all the boys in our class and almost all the boys in the class above, did she?”

“Why would she say a thing like that?”

Let’s think … maybe because she’s a sly, mean, red-haired witch? I tried to scratch my head, but my fingers couldn’t get through the pile of ringlets. So I pulled out a hairpin and scratched with that instead. “Oh, I’m sorry, really! You can say what you like about Charlotte, but I’m sure she would never even have sniffed that punch.”

“You’re right,” said Gideon, and suddenly he smiled. “Although then those people would have never have heard Andrew Lloyd Webber two hundred years ahead of time, and that would have been a real pity.”

“Right … although tomorrow I’ll probably want to sink into the ground with shame.” I buried my face in my hands. “In fact, come to think of it, that’s how I feel right now.”

“Good,” said Gideon. “It means the effect of the alcohol is wearing off. One question, by the way: what did you want a hairbrush for?”

“I wanted it as a substitute for a mike,” I murmured through my fingers. “Oh, my God! I’m so horrible.”

“But you have a pretty voice,” said Gideon. “Even I liked it, and I told you I hate musicals.”

“Then how come you can play songs from them so well?” I put my hands in my lap and looked at him. “You were amazing! Is there anything you can’t do?” Good heavens, I heard myself sounding like a groupie.

“No. Go ahead, you’re welcome to think me some kind of god!” He was grinning now. “It’s rather sweet of you! Come on, we’ll be traveling back soon now. We’d better get into position.”

I got to my feet, trying to stand up as straight as possible.

“Over here,” Gideon told me. “Don’t look so remorseful. Basically the evening was a success. It went according to plan, if not exactly as planned. Hey, keep standing.” He put both hands on my waist and pulled me close, until my back was against his chest. “You can lean on me if you like.” He paused and then said, “Sorry I was so nasty to you just now.”

“All forgotten.” That wasn’t strictly true, but it was the first time I’d heard Gideon apologize for his behavior, and maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that its effects were wearing off, but I was very touched.

We stood there for a while in silence, still looking ahead in the flickering candlelight. Like the light, the shadows between the columns seemed to be moving, casting dark patterns on the floor and the church roof. “That man Alastair,” I said. “Why does he hate the count so much? Is it something personal?”

Gideon began playing with one of the ringlets falling on my shoulder. “Depends how you look at it. The organization that so pompously calls itself the Florentine Alliance has really been a kind of family firm for centuries. On his travels through time in the sixteenth century, the count happened by chance to meet the Conte di Madrone’s family in Florence. So … well, let’s say they entirely mistook his abilities. The Conte di Madrone’s religious views rejected the mere idea of time travel. In addition, there seems to have been some kind of trouble involving his daughter—anyway, the Conte was sure he was confronting a demon, and he felt that God had given him a mission to rid the world of what he thought was spawned by hell.” Suddenly Gideon’s voice was very close to my ear, and before he went on, his lips touched my neck. “When the Conte di Madrone died, his son inherited that mission, and his own son after him, and so on. Lord Alastair is the last in a line of fanatically obsessed demon-hunters, if that’s the way to put it.”

“I see,” I said, which was not entirely true. But it did seem to explain a bit of what I’d recently seen and heard. “Er … at this moment, are you kissing me?”

“No, only almost,” murmured Gideon, with his lips just above my skin. “I mean, no way do I want to exploit the fact that you’re drunk and may be mistaking me for some kind of god right now. But it doesn’t come easy.…”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder, and he held me closer.

“Like I said, you really don’t make things easy for me. You always give me the wrong sort of ideas in churches.…”

“There’s something you don’t know about me,” I said, with my eyes closed. “Sometimes I see … I can … well, sometimes I can see and hear people who’ve been dead a long time. And I can hear what they say. Like just now. I think the man I saw with Lord Alastair could have been that Italian Conte di Madrone.”