Georgia gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Hanging with the aristocracy has never been my style.”
“So what are you guys up to?” I asked, hoping that the change of topic would shut Georgia up. I was going to have to do some apologizing once I saw Violette again.
“We were seeing Geneviève off,” Vincent said, finishing his glass of Coke. “She’s gone to the south to stay with Charlotte and Charles. Said she couldn’t stand hanging around her house without Philippe in it.”
I nodded, knowing how she felt. I couldn’t wait to get out of our home in Brooklyn after Mom and Dad died. Everything I looked at reminded me of them—it was like living in a mausoleum.
“Now it’s back to work, bringing Arthur and Violette up to speed with the Paris goings-on . . . at least it was until you drove them off.” Jules winked at Georgia as she smiled demurely and raised her hand to attract the attention of a waiter.
As we left the café a half hour later, Vincent draped his arm around my shoulders. “Come back with us,” he urged. “We’re having a house meeting since no one’s dormant today. It would be good if you were there.”
“I’ll see you back home,” Georgia said. Since she wasn’t welcome back at the house, she was clearly letting him off the hook as far as extending the invitation. After enthusiastically kissing each of the boys good-bye, she headed toward Papy and Mamie’s.
Ten minutes later we were back in the great hall, just like a couple of months previously when Jean-Baptiste was handing out punishments and rewards after the numa battle and Lucien’s death: exile for Charles and Charlotte and acceptance into the household for me.
The two new members of the kindred were seated on a leather couch in front of the fire, heads close together as they whispered heatedly. They seemed to be having an argument. I steeled myself and walked up to them.
“Violette?” I asked.
She peered up at me, seeming as fragile as a porcelain cup. “Yes?” she responded, looking away to nod at Arthur as if dismissing him before turning back to me. He stood and walked over to Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard, who were studying a map off in a corner.
“I just want to say that I’m sorry that my sister offended you. She can be like that sometimes, and I’m not making excuses for her, but I just want you to know that I don’t feel the same way she does.”
Violette thought for a second, and then solemnly nodded her head. “I would not judge you by your sister’s words.” She reached out to touch my hand. “What is that phrase you use in English . . . ‘Sticks and stones’? I hold no offense,” she said in her stilted language.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Can I sit here?” I asked, motioning to an armchair next to her. She smiled evenly and said, “Of course.”
“So . . .” I fished for a topic of conversation. “What have you and Arthur been doing for the last week?”
“We have been walking with the others—mainly Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard. They are introducing us to the territories of Paris. Arthur and I have been here before, but things have changed in the last century.”
Surreal conversation, I thought for the millionth time. Although I was starting to get used to it.
“Is it weird to be away from your home?” I asked.
“Yes. We have lived in Langeais for a few centuries, so it does feel quite odd to have such a drastic change to one’s routine. But, of course, it is for a good cause, helping Jean-Baptiste subdue the numa.”
She leaned in closer and spoke earnestly, as if what she was asking was important and confidential. “And you, Kate? How does it feel to be outside of the world you are used to—having fallen in with immortals? Do you ever wish you could go back to the normal life of a human girl?”
I shook my head. “No. That life was over for me anyway. At least, that’s what it felt like. My parents died around a year ago. When I found Vincent”—or was it when he found me? I wondered—“I might as well have been dead too.”
“It is a strange choice for a beautiful, vibrant girl to spend her time with the undead.”
She really did sound like an old lady at times. “I feel accepted here,” I said simply.
Raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, she nodded and then took my hand and squeezed it, in what felt like a gesture of solidarity. Girl-to-girl in a house full of men.
“Is everyone here?” Jean-Baptiste strode to the place of authority in front of the fire and looked around the room. “Good,” he said.
I felt someone touch my shoulder and looked up to see Vincent standing behind my chair. He gave me a sexy wink, and then fixed his attention on the older man.