As I gathered my coat and bag, it suddenly occurred to me that Papy may have come across examples of re-embodiment in his research. That thought lifted my spirits enough that I left without arguing further.
As we exited La Maison’s courtyard and headed toward my house, Charlotte turned and waved to a couple of shadowy figures positioned at the end of the block. Two bardia fell in step, keeping a block behind us. JB was keeping his promise to guard me carefully.
A couple of bikers raced by dangerously near as we crossed the street. I laced my arm through Charlotte’s and squeezed her close to me.
“So what do you think about that re-embodiment thing?” she asked. “The whole house is buzzing about it. Do you think it could be true?”
“I think that if there’s even a microscopic chance that it’s true, I’m going to make sure we try every known way of testing it.”
She nodded. “Hopefully the guérisseurs’ books will have something useful in them.”
“If not . . . or even if so . . . I’m going to see if I can’t dig anything else up. My grandfather has read an awful lot on mystical topics, you know, including a few revenant texts.”
“Hmm . . . ,” she said doubtfully.
Why does no one believe a human can help the bardia? I thought, frustrated. I changed the subject. “So what’s it like to come back to La Maison with Ambrose there?” We crossed the bustling boulevard Raspail. It was a freezing third week of February and the shop windows were full of light summer clothes that I couldn’t even dream of wearing as I pulled my thick coat tight around myself. We stopped in front of one display.
“You should really try something like that,” Charlotte said, nodding toward a short, waistless lingerie-style dress that the mannequin wore over skin-tight jeans.
“Um, that might actually happen in another lifetime. And you are avoiding my question,” I responded, pulling her away from the window and onto the crosswalk with me.
Charlotte shrugged in defeat. “It’s hard. Ambrose’s eyes never leave Geneviève. When he hasn’t been guarding you, he’s been trailing her.”
“So that’s why he was itching to join the hunt for Violette this morning,” I said, putting two and two together.
“That and the possibility of a good fight.” Charlotte smiled.
“Has he said anything else to you about her?” I asked.
“No, only that one time after we arrived in Villefranche-sur-Mer. He must have spilled everything during that confession, because he hasn’t mentioned her since.”
I threw my arm around Charlotte in a side hug as we approached my street.
“But you know, Kate,” she said as we stopped in front of my door, “I’m doing okay about it. And I’m not just saying that flippantly. When I saw you and Vincent get together after he had been alone for so long . . . well, that gave me hope. And watching the way he treats you made me realize that maybe I had set my sights too low. After chasing someone who didn’t give me the time of day . . .”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Okay, that’s not exactly true,” Charlotte confessed. “Ambrose loves me . . . but like a sister. I just see how Vincent anticipates your every desire and tries to make it come true for you. How, when he sees you walk into a room, it’s like he’s transformed into this person who is bigger and better than the one he was just minutes before. I want to be that for someone. I think I deserve it. And I’m not going to pine away for a guy who feels that for someone else.”
The weight in my chest and the razor-sharp pangs of sadness returned full force with Charlotte’s reminder of what things used to be like with Vincent. And could be again, I reminded myself. I couldn’t give up hope, especially now.
“So until my own chivalrous knight shows up,” she continued. “I’ve decided to live a full life and be happy with my lot. Which is already pretty damn good: It’s not like every girl is granted immortality and charged with saving human lives.”
She winked at me with this last comment, and I could tell that it wasn’t just bravado. She really meant it. I threw both arms around her and kissed her cheek. “Fate’s brought you this far, Charlotte. I don’t see why it wouldn’t end up giving you your heart’s desire.”
EIGHTEEN
PAPY WAS SETTING THE TABLE WHEN I GOT HOME. Hearing me close the front door, he glanced up anxiously. “Oh, good, you’re home, princesse,” he said.
My grandmother popped her head out from the kitchen. “Has the healer discovered anything?” she asked. “Georgia caught us up on today’s goings-on.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Bran is studying his family records. It’s a lot of material, and he won’t let anyone else look at it.”
“Understandable,” Papy said, nodding sagely to himself. “Are there still guards outside?” he asked.