“When’s the last time you ate?” she asks.
“On the boat. Violette was feeding me so that I would get my strength back and fully animate. Looks like that worked a little too well for her!” I think back to the strange, sad numa boy, Louis, and something tugs inside me.
Charlotte munches on an apple slice, looking pensive.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“Ambrose,” she responds. “He’s been acting really weird lately.”
“Weird good or weird bad?” I ask, popping a melon ball into my mouth.
“Weird freaky,” she replies, looking troubled. “He keeps watching me. I wonder if he questions JB’s decision to name me as second. Maybe he’s waiting for me to slip up or something.”
“Hmm,” I say, unable to keep my lips from crooking up at the corners.
Mercifully, there is a knock on the door and Arthur sticks his head in. “Fifteen minutes,” he says. My heart skips a beat and I realize that I’m nervous. The other times I fought, the fight came to us. I’ve never had time to think about it in advance.
“Man, he’s got it bad for your sister,” Charlotte says after he’s gone. “But she is really playing it cool.”
“It could be because Papy and Mamie would completely freak if they thought that another of their granddaughters was falling for a revenant.”
Charlotte shrugs. “Your grandparents are involved now, whether or not they want to be. You’re one of us—it’s not like they can just pack you up and take you home.”
I think about Mamie and Papy and their response to seeing me: joy and relief mixed with horror and despair. My heart aches. Will they ever be able to look at me the same as they did before? I change the subject. “How does it feel to be Vincent’s second?”
“Like I was born for it. Like I’ve been waiting for this role for the last fifty years.” She smiles. “It’s time for you to get suited up. I’ll wait for you in the foyer.” She stands and turns to go.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“Please don’t leave.”
She looks at me curiously, and then comes over to put her arms around me. “This is scary, isn’t it?” she asks.
“Yep.”
She gives me a squeeze and then walks over to the bed and picks up a pair of leather pants. I shuffle out of my jeans and take them from her.
“Violette’s timing really sucks,” she says. “You shouldn’t have to jump right in like this before you even have time to test yourself. But we’re going into it together. You, me, Ambrose, Vincent, and the rest of our kindred. We never work alone. You will always be one part of a whole. Together we can win this fight—I am sure of it.”
Charlotte’s courage is contagious. As I pull on layers of protective clothing, I begin to feel emboldened, and a sense of purpose sparks my will. I am bardia. Whether or not I feel capable, I was made for this.
FORTY-FOUR
IT IS ONE A.M. WHEN WE LEAVE. I AM GLAD IT IS late. My grandparents will have no idea I’m gone. Hopefully we’ll be back before they wake up and they won’t have the time to worry.
The closest small grouping of lights is just north of us, where I see three clear red beams shoot into the night sky. We cross the Carrousel Bridge and walk through the Louvre’s courtyard, passing the sparkling crystal pyramid, and back out through the monumental archway.
Vincent walks beside me, checking from time to time to make sure the others are keeping up. We are followed by five groups of highly armed revenants, and heading toward three lone numa. So why is my heart thumping so hard?
Finally we turn down a small side street and I nod toward a large open gate halfway down on the right. “The lights come from inside there,” I say.
“I know that passageway,” says Charlotte. “It’s covered with a glass roof and lined with shops on either side. The shops will all be closed, but there are apartments above them on the second floor.”
“Okay,” says Vincent, and phones the group behind us. “Arthur. Our targets are inside Passage du Grand Cerf. Bring your group to the rue St. Denis side and secure that exit. Have the other groups guard the street. And call the ambulance to meet us here. We will have three corpses to pick up.”
“We’re just going to trap them and kill them?” I ask Vincent as we approach the arched gateway.
“Kate. They’re numa. They are murderers. And if we don’t kill them, they will kill us.”
I nod, but I still feel strange about it.
All of the shopfronts are dark, but a few lights are on in the second-floor windows. As we approach, one of them flickers off and footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs. A door in the middle of the passageway opens, and two men step out. Their shoes click hollowly against the black-and-white tiles.