“No. I’m going to leave that to you.”
“Well, I will tell him,” I said, suddenly feeling defiant. “As soon as I have more information. While he’s making himself look like an anemic insomniac, I’m not just going to sit on my butt and wait for him to come up with a solution to our problems.”
As we pulled up in front of my house, Jules looked at me with a strained expression. “Kates, I’ve got to give it to you—you are one determined, ballsy chick. But if you ever plan on doing something that’s going to piss Vincent off, leave me out of it.” It was his tone of voice, his obvious loyalty to his kindred, that got to me.
“I swear I didn’t think it through before I asked you to do this,” I said, choking a little on the words. “The last thing I want to do is cause a problem between you and Vincent. I am sorry for that part, Jules.”
He nodded his acceptance of my apology. “Out,” he said with a tired smile.
After pulling myself from the car, I leaned back in and said, “Thanks,” and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Aren’t your grandparents going to wonder why you’re home so early?”
“Papy’s at his gallery, and Mamie’s working on a weeklong project at the Louvre. Unless you tell them, they’ll never know.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow morning, seven thirty sharp.”
My smile was difficult to pull off with the lump in my throat. “So you’ll still guard me?”
“With my life.” He gave me a one-handed salute, put the car into gear, and drove away.
TWENTY-EIGHT
VINCENT PHONED THAT NIGHT WHILE I WAS doing my homework. “Guten Tag,” I said. He responded with a flood of German words, pronounced so quickly that even if I spoke German, I doubt I would have understood. “Um, danke? Lederhosen? Sorry. That’s all I can add to that conversation. So, getting off the topic of leather Alpen-wear . . . did you find Charles?”
“Yes, I did. I’m here in the house with Charles and the kindred he’s staying with.” From behind Vincent, speed metal was pumping so loudly that I could barely hear his voice.
“Why don’t you go outside?” I yelled into the phone.
“I am outside,” he said. “Just a sec.” And I listened as the music got farther and farther away. “Okay. I’m down the block now. Can you hear me?”
I laughed. “Just what kind of German ‘kindred’ have adopted Charles?”
“Well, I can definitely say that it’s a big change from Jean-Baptiste’s house.”
“Is Charles okay?”
“He’s not only okay. He actually seems happy—for a change. Although he feels pretty bad for abandoning Charlotte. He’s just not ready to come back yet. And believe it or not, I actually think this place is good for him.”
“That is great news!”
“Yeah. Now we just have to track down the revenant who gave Charles’s group the information. They don’t really know him that well, so they aren’t sure where to find him. I’ll probably be here another couple of days. And then I was thinking I should go to the south to see Charlotte. Fill her in on how Charles is doing and see how she and Geneviève are getting along.”
My heart plummeted. “So you won’t be back until next week, then.”
“Well, I was actually hoping that you’d come along with me. I thought you’d enjoy seeing Charlotte, and—more selfishly—I’ve been wanting to get away with you. To take you somewhere for once.”
My heart stopped its descent and shot back up, lodging in my throat so I could barely speak. “Us? Go on a trip? To the C?te d’Azur? Really?”
“Do you think your grandparents would be okay with that?”
I tried to compose myself, but my lungs insisted on hyperventilating. “Oh, Vincent, that would be so amazing! And if we’re staying with Charlotte and Geneviève, I know Mamie and Papy won’t mind.”
“Then it’s a plan. I’ll make sure I’m back from Berlin by Friday. If we take a four p.m. train, we’ll be in Nice by ten that night. And we can come back Sunday evening. It only gives us a day and a half there, but I wouldn’t want you to have to skip school.”
My face flushed. What would he say if he knew that I had skipped school—to do something he might not be happy about? And had made Jules my accomplice. Make that when he knows. I’m going to tell him, I thought. I just have to find the right time.
On Thursday, I asked Jules to make a detour at La Maison on the way home from school.
“What—do you miss Vincent so much you’re just going to hang out in his room?” he teased.
“No, I actually borrowed a book from Jean-Baptiste’s library and keep forgetting to return it.” Okay, why was that so easy to say to Jules when I couldn’t to Violette? I wondered.