Until I Die by Amy Plum

I switched senses. “Pine trees. Brine.”

 

 

He took my hand and ran my fingers over the stone we sat on. I responded without him asking. “Cold, smooth rock with little indentations all over, the size of my fingertips.” Opening my eyes, I breathed in the chilly sea air and tasted its pure flavor—such a change from the city air of Paris.

 

I felt nature move around me and through me, as my pulse slowed to the rhythm set by the crashing waves and staccato sea breeze. Our two insignificant human bodies became indecipherable from the titan agelessness of the elements around us. As we sat in silence, I knew Vincent was experiencing the same mesmerizing calm as me. Finally he spoke.

 

“You know how you meditate in front of paintings? Well, I do it in nature, when I need to remember that my universe isn’t fantasy fiction—that I still exist in the real world. And that my immortality isn’t some cosmic joke. This is the purest place I know. And what I feel here is the closest I’ve felt to happiness in all the years after my death.

 

“But now I have something that blows that feeling out of the water. Every time I need a hit of joy, I think about you. You are my solace, Kate. Just knowing that you are in this world, everything makes sense.”

 

He leaned forward and, smoothing my hair off my face, gave me a short, sweet kiss before continuing.

 

“I want us to work, Kate. That is why I’ve been searching for something—anything—to make our time together as easy as it can be. Without the pain that my regular revenant existence—that my deaths—would bring. And, although things might not look great on the surface, I do think I’ve found it.”

 

Although my heart leapt at his enthusiasm, a feeling of dread quashed my joy. This was going to be worse than I had imagined. Vincent was approaching the subject way too carefully, and the look in his eye said he was worried about how I would take it. Here it comes, I thought, and braced myself.

 

Vincent held my gaze. “You know how dying for humans satisfies a need within us? That saving people is our very purpose for being?”

 

I nodded, a bud of fear blossoming in my chest.

 

“Ancient texts call that ‘lifestyle’ the ‘Light Way,’” he said. “It is the natural order of things. It wipes the slate clean, giving us a year or so before we start feeling the pull again.

 

“But there is another way to assuage the need to die. It’s called the ‘Dark Way.’ It’s a temporary cure, and doesn’t bring us back to our death age. But some have been known to use it as a method to resist . . . when there is a dire enough reason to.”

 

I shivered, knowing that whatever it was, I didn’t want him to be doing it.

 

“Remember the energy transfer that Arthur got when he saved Georgia?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, with the Dark Way the same principle applies, but in reverse. When a revenant kills a numa, we are temporarily infused with their energy.”

 

This is very, very bad, a voice inside my mind told me. Shuddering, I forced it to shut up and listen.

 

Vincent continued. “Historically speaking, there’s a good reason for this: If a wounded revenant is able to kill a numa in battle, the immediate power surge gives him enough strength to escape to safety. You saw how strong Arthur was after killing that numa in the alleyway. He got right up to his feet after sustaining a pretty serious wound. Since he received the numa’s energy, as well as the strength from saving Georgia, he didn’t suffer at all.”

 

I nodded, trying to wrap my mind around it. Even though most of the revenants’ rules for functioning sounded strange at first, they all had some sort of rational purpose behind them.

 

“So that’s one short-lived benefit of killing a numa. But on top of that, if the revenant hasn’t died for a while, it also alleviates that desire to die—scratching his itch, you could say.

 

“For one pursuing the Dark Way, killing numa on a regular, continual basis not only scratches the itch but prevents it. Completely. At least that is what Gaspard and Violette have concluded from the old texts. We don’t actually know of anyone who has tried it in recent times.”

 

“Why?” My voice was hollow. “Because it’s dangerous?”

 

“It’s not dangerous in and of itself.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“The idea itself is unappealing.” Vincent sighed deeply. He really didn’t want to talk about this. “Humans are good by nature. When we get their energy, it’s that positive power of their innate goodness that we’re infused with. Numa are evil, and so is their energy. So when we kill them, it’s the negative power of their rage that’s transferred.”

 

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