Bran responded for him. “Violette would have absorbed Vincent’s spirit, which would have been combined with her own. His identity would have been intertwined with Violette’s and his power added to hers.”
But, obviously, that didn’t happen, Vincent rushed to say.
My head hurt. A dull burn behind my eyebrows, like when I crunched on ice. I raised my hand to cup my forehead and felt tears sting my eyes. The very idea of Vincent’s and Violette’s spirits intertwined made me sick.
It’s okay. I’m here now, Vincent said consolingly.
“But when Violette jerks you back to her, what will you tell her? That she did the right thing, but it didn’t work since you aren’t the Champion?” I asked.
“No, he’s going to lie,” Jean-Baptiste said. “We will concoct some type of bogus ceremony for her to try on him in order to stall her a bit longer.”
Bran added his two cents. “Stalling isn’t actually going to solve anything. He’s still bound to her, and will remain so until one of two things happens.”
“And those would be . . . ?” I asked.
“Until Violette is destroyed or Vincent is re-embodied.”
I’ll kill her. Gladly, I thought, my fury making me even more nauseous. However, realizing that my slaying a revenant protected by a numa horde wasn’t the most probable outcome, I settled for practicality. “Then let’s find this account of the re-embodiment,” I urged.
“I remember my mother reading it to me when I was still a child. I haven’t actually seen it myself, so I have no idea which of these books contain the story,” Bran admitted. “I’ll need to work my way through them until I find it.”
“I’d be happy to help,” I offered. I reached for one of the books, but withdrew my hand when I saw his expression.
“I’m sorry, child, but these texts are full of my family’s secrets,” Bran said. “I have sworn to protect them and show them to no one.”
My heart sank. If Bran read through all of these books by himself, it could take a long time. And time was something we couldn’t afford.
“Do you mind if I wait here until I have to go home?” I asked.
And do what? asked Vincent. Watch him turn pages? You’ll be bored and you’ll drive him insane.
“There’s a lot here to keep me occupied,” I responded, gesturing at the walls of books. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
“You are welcome to stay,” Bran responded, to my relief.
“Vincent and I are going to take this opportunity to chat,” Jean-Baptiste said. “I need to know everything you can tell me about Violette and her plans.”
I’ll be back, mon ange, promised Vincent.
Bran spent the next hour carefully studying his books, while Gaspard hovered nervously to one side. He was more tic-y than usual, wringing his hands and trembling as he watched Bran work. I suspected his nervousness was due to the fact that he was in the presence of a wealth of arcane information that he couldn’t actually touch. The thought of what could be written in the books was enough to fill me with wonder, and I wasn’t a hyper-anxious nineteenth-century historian. Under the circumstances, I felt he was holding himself together quite well.
I spent the time reading a grisly account of pre-Columbian Aztec kings who used revenant Seers to find newly formed bardia. They forced them to serve as immortal bodyguards by threatening their loved ones. When the king died, their bardia slaves were immolated with them. Although I shuddered at the horror of it, the story’s disturbing content made me see our own situation in a different light: Things could be worse.
Finally Charlotte peeked her head through the door. “Your grandmother called to ask you to come home for dinner. Jean-Baptiste asked me to walk you back,” she said. “He’s still interviewing Vincent about Violette. There has been no numa activity since this morning, and since Violette is waiting to get something from us, JB feels you’re all safe staying at your house tonight.”
“But what if . . . ,” I began, looking pleadingly at Gaspard.
“We will call you the second we find anything,” the older revenant promised me.
“Violette gave Vincent three days,” I said, letting myself feel the panic I pushed down every time I looked over and saw Bran moving at a snail’s pace through his texts. “That means . . .”
“Which leaves two days and eleven hours. Yes, dear Kate, I am just as aware as you are of our time constraints,” Gaspard reassured me, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “But since there’s nothing you can do to help at the moment, you might as well go home to your grandparents.”
I gritted my teeth and turned to leave the room with Charlotte. I hated feeling powerless. It’s not like I was helping out much just sitting around the library. But being at home with my grandparents wasn’t going to do anything to help.