“Kate, this is Jules. Jules, Kate,” he spits out as fast as his mouth will move. “Listen, Jules, Kate and I were walking around the Village Saint-Paul and I saw someone there,” he says, raising his eyebrows. I can tell from his tone that someone is not just anyone and that a numa must be mere blocks away.
“Outside,” I order, frowning at Kate as I usher Vincent out to the staircase and close the door behind us. Before I can say anything, Vincent launches into the story. Lucien and one of his guards were sitting at a café with some unlucky human—a businessman, from the looks of him. And from the pitiful look on his face, the numa had probably ruined him financially and were going to blackmail him or something.
“And you just left him there?” I ask.
“I had to,” Vincent responds. “It’s not like I can fight two numa alone and in public. I can’t do anything without backup.” He’s upset. There was his archenemy working his evil ways with an unsuspecting human, and Vincent was powerless to intervene.
“I’m with you now,” I reassure him, “and Ambrose can be our third.”
Vince pulls out his phone and speed-dials Gaspard, telling him to send Ambrose to my studio. “He’s on his way,” he confirms.
“Good. Now you can tell me . . . why the hell did you bring her with you?” I cross my arms to control myself; I’m so tempted to throttle him.
“I’m not on duty twenty-four seven. She’s with me because we’re on a date.”
“That is exactly why she should not be here.”
“JB only said we couldn’t bring people home,” Vincent says. “I don’t see why she can’t come here.”
“Dude. Anywhere we have a permanent address is off-limits for . . . ‘dates.’ Or whatever. You know the rules.”
“Valérie’s here,” Vincent protests.
“I don’t date Valérie, or else she wouldn’t be here. In any case, your date is over!”
He scowls like he wants to punch me in the face. And then he sighs and his shoulders slump. He knows I’m right. He takes Kate down to the courtyard and says his good-byes. She looks disappointed, but that’s not my problem. Once she leaves, Vincent runs back up the stairs.
“Ambrose is here. He saw Lucien and Nicolas,” he says. “They’re making their way in this direction. But more importantly, Ambrose foresaw the human who’s with them throwing himself in front of a Métro train in about three minutes’ time. We have to go now!”
“Session’s over, Valérie,” I say. I pick up my coat and throw her the keys. “Could you lock up behind you? Just drop the keys in my mailbox when you leave.”
“But I’ve only been here a half hour,” she says, sitting up. She looks uncertain.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pay you for the whole three hours,” I say. She nods, satisfied, and begins getting dressed as I follow Vincent. We walk quickly toward the Saint-Paul Métro station.
You’ve got exactly a minute and a half, Ambrose says as we jog down the stairs.
“Who’s up this time?” I ask Vincent.
“Well, it was Ambrose’s turn to die, but he saved that kid two days ago,” Vincent replies.
“What’s it been for you—a year?” I ask.
Vincent nods.
“My last was March. So you can take it,” I offer.
No one’s going to take it if you don’t get your butts down there stat, says Ambrose as we emerge out of the hallway into the platform area.
“There he is—the guy who was with Lucien,” Vincent says, and points to a man in a suit who is blatantly crying.
That’s our jumper, verifies Ambrose.
The man places his briefcase on the platform and lowers himself down onto the tracks. “Now!” I say, and Vincent gets ready to run. But before he can, we hear a girl screaming behind us. Someone else has noticed the man on the tracks. I’m stunned to see that it’s Kate. She’s pointing to the guy and freaking out. Vincent looks at me. I know what he’s thinking. “Let’s go,” I say.
Vincent runs for Kate, and I jump down onto the tracks. The man is sobbing, holding his head in his hands as the rush of wind announcing an oncoming train blows me back a step. The train rounds a corner and bears down on him as I run between the tracks to get to him. He’s half a platform away: I’m not sure I can reach him in time.
The train appears, and to me it is like a dragon, solid, shining, and enormous: the yellow headlights its eyes and the wailing horn its battle shriek. It’s like St. George versus the dragon, I think, but this time the dragon wins.
The man lets out a terrified bleat, and with no time to spare, I push him to the other side of the tracks—to safety. And in my final second, I turn to see Vincent trying to shield Kate so she won’t see me die. The train is upon me, sparks flying, brakes screeching as the driver tries to avoid the inevitable.
No time to dive out of its trajectory. This is the way of my kind, I think. Death is a welcome mistress, but damn, is she brutal.
I brace myself for the split second of wrenching pain that I will experience as the impact takes my life. Vincent’s eyes meet mine. I touch my fingers to my forehead in salute to my kinsman, and then I die.
SIX