“Oh, Charlotte. You must be so relieved.”
“I can’t even tell you. I was practically giddy when he told me he was safe, and then I started yelling at him for not calling before. But we’re okay now.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. See! All those names you were calling him were . . . well, they were still mostly true.”
Charlotte laughed; then her voice became serious. “Actually, Kate, the guys he’s staying with got a tip that big things are going down with the numa in Paris. He said he wasn’t ready to talk to the others yet, and asked me to warn JB.”
“Well, he’s just in time. Did you hear about what happened to Geneviève’s house?”
“Yeah. Jean-Baptiste called this morning to ask if there was anything in her house that a numa could be after,” Charlotte affirmed.
“The same thing just happened in Jules’s studio a couple hours ago.”
She gasped. “Oh, Kate. I wish I could come back. There’s no reason for me to stay here now that I know that Charles isn’t going to be showing up on the doorstep at any moment.”
“They why don’t you?” I asked, glancing at Vincent, who was sitting silently beside me in the car.
“It’s Geneviève. She doesn’t want to go back to Paris. And I can tell that being here, far away from her memories of her life with Philippe, is helping her. I can’t just ditch her, and I don’t want to suggest something that’s going to set her back. But with everything going on there, do you think Jean-Baptiste needs me?”
“I don’t know, Charlotte. It seems like pure chaos here for the moment. If Geneviève needs you there, it might be better for both of you if you stay.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I’ll bring it up with Jean-Baptiste anyway just to be sure. But Kate?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so glad Charles is safe.”
“I know, Charlotte. Me too. It’s good that he’s with other revenants,” I said. And not with numa, I thought, knowing that Charlotte had feared the same thing.
Once again, we were assembled around the massive hearth in the great hall. Jean-Baptiste explained what they had found at Geneviève’s and Jules’s, which was basically nothing. However, it was obvious from the items that had been disturbed that the object of the break-ins was some sort of document. But neither Geneviève nor Jules could imagine anything the numa would want to steal from them.
“I have racked my brain,” said Jean-Baptiste, placing two fingers on his brow for emphasis, “and can’t think of one thing among our paperwork that would be of any interest to our enemies.”
“How about banking information?” Violette asked. “Maybe they’re looking for account numbers or something.”
“Well, that’s an idea,” said Jules. “But we’re paperless now—all our banking is online. And even if the numa weren’t already rich off all of their underworld dealings, I doubt our bank accounts would be their first target if they needed some extra cash.”
Violette frowned.
“May I?” Gaspard asked. He was so overly polite that he never cut into a conversation without asking permission first. Jean-Baptiste nodded at him. “Although I agree that we must focus on discovering what they might be after, we should not rule out the fact that this might merely be a diversion. They may be attempting to draw our attention away from some larger plan they are carrying out.”
I spoke up. “Charlotte mentioned something on the phone when we were on our way here.” Everyone turned toward me. “Charles called her. He’s in Berlin, staying with a group of revenants. He phoned to warn her that they had heard rumors that something big was happening with the Paris numa.”
“Yes, she called me too—” Gaspard began, but was cut off by Violette.
“Why didn’t I hear anything about this?” she exclaimed, her face pink with emotion, signaling that she was officially pissed off.
“I—I was going to consult with you later, Violette,” Gaspard stuttered. “But Charlotte just phoned me last night, and with the break-ins this morning, there was so much going on.”
Violette pressed her temples in exasperation. “How am I supposed to be helping out if people withhold such important information from me?”
Everyone stared at her. Ambrose rolled his eyes toward me and mouthed the words, Drama. Queen.
She glanced around at us, as if she had just noticed we were all there, and then looked back at Gaspard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just been trying so hard. Digging wherever I could, and hitting a brick wall everywhere I turn . . . when there’s information sitting right in front of us.” She stood and walked to Gaspard, placing a dainty hand on his arm and leading him away from the group.
“Now what did Charlotte say, exactly?” she quizzed him as they left the room.