The duke extends his hand to an older man in the crowd and pulls him into a warm hug, clapping him on the back. “Henri,” he says, placing his hands on both his shoulders. “It is time.”

Four footmen emerge from the same passageway the rest of the men came from holding something between them. At first, I think it’s a trunk, but as it comes into the candlelight, I realize I’m mistaken; it’s a body.

The body of a young man is laid out on a golden stretcher. His chest rises and falls slowly, so I know he’s not dead, but he is unconscious. He’s dressed in shabby clothes, but two glistening rubies are placed on his closed eyes.

I watch in horrified silence.

The footmen lay the stretcher and the boy at the duke’s feet, directly in front of the veil. It ripples, alive and hungry.

The buzzing in my head grows louder, like something under my skin is alive and desperate to crawl right out of my body.

“What a gift tonight has been,” the duke declares. “What a gift the veil is to us all.” He’s speaking in English. It makes me wonder if the Brothers of Morte d’Arthur traveled from England and the United States for this event. Whatever this is clearly reaches beyond the shores of France.

The duke continues, “We have sat in front of this veil for centuries waiting for it to open, and only twice in the past five hundred years has it revealed itself to us. The last time was over one hundred years ago, when I myself was granted the eternal gift, and now, it is my honor to bestow it unto you, my beloved brothers.”

He places his hand on the man named Henri’s shoulders and presses, forcing Henri to kneel at his feet. Henri goes willingly and closes his eyes in reverence.

“Tonight, we grant the gift of eternal life to our brother, Henri Saint Germain, who has loyally served the Brothers his entire life. He stood guard at this very gate as a young man and has dedicated his adulthood to the pursuit of triumph of life over death. The funds he and his estate generously provide us allow our operations to function, and after tonight, we will ensure the longevity of both Henri and his generosity.”

I turn to Maxine and Lena, who are watching the scene with horror-struck faces. I don’t dare whisper, it isn’t worth the risk of being found out, but what the duke is saying sounds like madness. Living forever is a myth, something silly children’s tales are spun from, but then I think of what he said of the portrait upstairs and the smallest part of me wonders if he might be telling the truth.