Until I Die

SEVENTEEN



I STEPPED OUT OF MY BUILDING ON SATURDAY morning, ready for my weekly fight training, to see … nobody. And then I remembered Vincent couldn’t be there to meet me. Not even in spirit form. He was dead-as-a-doornail dormant today.

I typed in the digicode as I arrived at La Maison, letting myself into the courtyard, and knocked at the door as was my habit when Vincent wasn’t with me. Gaspard opened it with a look of surprise, and then fell all over himself apologizing. “Oh, dear Kate,” he said, stepping aside and ushering me into the house, “I completely forgot about our practice. I should have telephoned you to cancel. You see, Charlotte called this morning. Charles is gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” I responded.

“It seems that he waited long enough for Geneviève to get moved in before taking his leave of Charlotte. He left a note this morning telling them not to worry about him, but that he would not be in contact for a while. That he needed to go somewhere else to get his head ‘sorted out.’” Gaspard always sounded awkward when he tried to use contemporary phrases.

“Is someone going to look for him?”

“Where would we even start?” Gaspard replied. “Charlotte and Geneviève will stay put for the moment, in case he decides to come back. Otherwise, I’ve spread the word among our nearest kin, and I’m sure news will travel. Perhaps we’ll hear back from someone who has spotted him.” He stood for a moment, looking at the floor as if the tiles held the answer to Charles’s whereabouts, and then, shaking himself out of his stupor, said, “In any case, I have several calls still to make, so please excuse me.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, nothing to be done,” he mumbled as he walked toward the double stairway.

“I think I’ll stay, then,” I called.

“Yes, yes,” he said distractedly, disappearing down the hallway at the top of the staircase.

I stood there feeling awful for a moment, wondering what Charles could possibly be up to this time, and thinking of how Charlotte must be going out of her mind with worry. I would write her as soon as I got home.

Glancing down the hallway toward Vincent’s room, I had to almost physically restrain myself from going to see him. Even though he’d never know, I decided to be good. This time.

And then it dawned on me. This was the perfect opportunity to check out JB’s library. I waited for a few seconds, until I heard Gaspard’s door close, and then skipped up the stairs and made my way to the library.

For me, this room was like book heaven. I had never been in here on my own—only with the whole group during the couple of meetings I had attended in it. And now, here it was, all mine to discover. Thousands of volumes, many of which I assumed contained references to revenants, lined the walls in columns so high that the top shelves had to be accessed by ladders.

Where to even start? I knew what I wanted: the stash of newly acquired books that Vincent had mentioned—those that Gaspard, acting as the Paris clan’s unofficial researcher and librarian, hadn’t had time to go through yet. I was convinced that if he had seen Immortal Love—and had actually read it cover to cover—he would have checked out the guérisseur option and Vincent would have told me about it.

I took a few minutes to browse through the shelves, like I had in Papy’s library, situating myself in the maze of books. Although there was definitely some sort of order to them, I couldn’t tell what it was. However, the spine of each book held a little tag with a reference number typed on it, just like in a public library. After a quick glance around the room, I spotted something that warmed my heart: a big wooden cabinet inset with dozens of tiny drawers. Gaspard kept an old-fashioned card catalogue. I felt like kissing him.

There hadn’t been an author’s name on Papy’s book, so I skipped to the drawers that were catalogued by book title. And to my utter astonishment, there it was—Immortal Love—spelled out in old-fashioned typewriter letters. I stood there and gawked at it, incredulous that it had been so easy to find. Underneath the title, Gaspard had typed in French “Illum. manu. 10th century, Fr.,” with a Gaspard Decimal System number in the upper right corner. I memorized the number and went searching.

And it was … not as easy as I had thought. The book wasn’t on the shelf where it should have been, which was full of archival boxes, conceivably holding other illuminated manuscripts. And it wasn’t on any of the neighboring shelves. I worked my way around the room, trying once more to get a feel for Gaspard’s organization. Near the windows I spied a set of shelves that weren’t jam-packed full of books like the others. And upon closer investigation, I saw a small metal plaque attached to the front of the bookcase engraved with the words À LIRE. “To read.”

My heartbeat accelerated as I ran my fingers over the spines and noticed that they were organized by number as well. Thank the OCD gods, I thought, and then I saw it. The correct number—on the spine of an archival box. I opened it and there it was: bound in the same rust-colored leather as Papy’s copy.

I lifted the book out and carefully replaced the box in its spot. Then, carrying it to a small table stacked high with assorted volumes, I sat and opened the cover. There they were, Goderic and Else, holding hands in a portrait that was almost identical to the one in Papy’s book.

I had begun turning the pages, carefully, toward the passage about the guérisseur, when I heard footsteps approach and the doorknob begin to creak. Panicking, I dropped the book into my bag, grabbed another volume from a stack in front of me, and opened it.

The sparrowlike figure of Violette stepped through the door. “Kate!” she cried, and came over to where I sat to give me cheek-kisses. “What are you doing here?”

“Gaspard canceled my fight training, so I thought I’d just hang out and read.”

Violette looked over my shoulder at the book I had opened. “You are reading about snake anatomy?” she asked, confused.

I looked down to see that the page held an illustration of a dissected snake, with Latin terms identifying the different bones and organs. “Um, yeah. I find nature … fascinating!” I cringed inside. I sounded like the head of the Geek Patrol.

She closed the book and sat down on the table facing me. “So Vincent is dormant. Would you like to do something?”

I grinned. “I’m actually having lunch with Georgia, but I could meet you afterward for an afternoon showing.”

“We can both have a look at Pariscope and then telephone each other. Should we say around four o’clock?”

“Perfect,” I said, standing. Violette wasn’t going anywhere, and I was dying to have a look at the book. I could have read it there, right in front of her, but it would have seemed weird to be hiding something from Jean-Baptiste’s collection in my purse. I would just have to return it later. Gaspard had so many volumes on his “To read” shelves that I was sure he wouldn’t miss it.

“You are finished with your snake reading?” Violette asked jokingly.

“Um, yeah,” I said weakly as I headed toward the door. “See you later then. I’ll text you with my top movie picks.”

She smiled and waved before heading toward the card catalogue.

I closed the door behind me, my heart thumping away as I felt awash in a tide of guilt. What in the world was I doing? I was sure JB and Gaspard wouldn’t mind me using the library, but taking an old, valuable book home with me? I couldn’t imagine they would be very happy about that. I’ll bring it back tomorrow, I thought, and made my way out of the house of the dead and back into the world of the living.