“The revenants’ prophecy is the same as that of the flame-fingers,” Bran responded. “It’s the revenant calendar’s Third Age, and has been since the Industrial Revolution. So she’s obviously been waiting since then. She must have thought she saw the Champion’s characteristics displayed by Vincent.”
“My ears are burning,” called Vincent from across the room. “As is my throat. Could I have some more water, please?” I leapt up and pulled the coffee table with the refreshments on it closer to Vincent’s couch so it was within reaching distance.
The men stood and Theo began clearing the table. “We should really leave Vincent to rest in peace so that he will heal as quickly as possible,” he said.
“I want to stay with him,” I insisted.
“Of course, my dear,” reassured Theo. “But would the rest of you like to join me for a more expansive tour of the revenant collection at the museum?”
Papy and Bran quickly agreed, but Jules walked back to his couch and flopped down on it. “Now that my bloodletting responsibilities are over, I think I’ll stay here too,” he said, closing his eyes.
Once the other men were gone, I sat watching Vincent for a while. His breathing was shallow, and although I knew he wasn’t sleeping—couldn’t sleep . . . until his next dormancy—it seemed he wasn’t quite here either. I left him to rest and went to dig through Theo’s bookcase, settling for a coffee table book about Edith Wharton’s New York. I wasn’t surprised in the least when I saw mention of a Theodore Gold being one of Wharton’s circle, and smiled when I spotted him among a crowd of people at a society ball, wearing tails and a top hat.
I kept checking on Vincent, but after a couple of hours, when he hadn’t budged, I put my book aside and went to look out the windows. I heard movement from the other side of the room and turned to see Jules watching me from his couch.
“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Oh, nothing,” he responded. “Just that you come all the way back home and spend your whole time here cooped up in an apartment. Kind of depressing, isn’t it?”
“Well, I did see a secret collection of supernatural-themed art hidden in the basement of the Met. That’s not too bad,” I retorted with a mock frown.
“Wanna take a walk?” Jules said, pushing himself up off the couch and walking toward me. “It’s my first time in New York, and if I don’t pass out from blood loss, I’d like to see a little bit. Would you do me the honor of being my tour guide?”
“But I shouldn’t leave . . . ,” I began.
He took my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Vincent will heal faster without you hovering around worrying over him. Right, Vince?” Jules called as he grabbed our coats.
Vincent murmured, “Show Jules New York, Kate, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” and pulled the blanket higher around his head.
“See?” Jules said to me, and opened the door to the hallway. “Rest up, man,” he called back to Vincent, his voice now completely serious. “We just got you back. Now we need you to get stronger.”
TWENTY-NINE
“WE’RE ONLY LEAVING VINCENT FOR A COUPLE OF hours, right?” I asked as we got onto the elevator, suddenly afraid that he might disappear while we were gone.
“Is that long enough to take me up the Empire State Building?” Jules asked.
I studied his face to see if he was joking. “You really want to go to the Empire State Building?” I asked. “The most touristy thing to do in New York City?”
He nodded sheepishly. “I know. But how can I miss it? I saw the original King Kong in 1933 and have been wanting to go ever since.”
“So your interest is purely from a cinematic history point of view,” I teased him.
The elevator doors opened and Jules held his hand out gallantly to allow me to step off first. “There’s that,” he said, once again confident, “as well as the fact that I’ve always dreamed of standing at the top of the Empire State Building with a beautiful girl.”
By the time Jules and I got back to Theo’s apartment everyone had assembled for dinner. Vincent had propped some cushions behind him and was now sitting up. “For you!” I said, holding up the enormous bag of clothes and shoes we had bought at Macy’s after we were done playing tourists.
“A special present for a special recovering dead guy,” Jules jibed, visibly relieved to see that his friend looked stronger after just a few hours. “We thought you might want to change out of those overalls at some point, and I’d like my T-shirt back.”
“Just as soon as I take a shower,” Vincent said. “I keep picking little bits of clay out of my hair. No joke.” He ran his fingers through his black locks and grimaced.
He sounded like old Vincent again, not feeble Vincent who looked close to death this morning. “Have you eaten?” I asked, sitting next to him on the couch.