Until I Die by Amy Plum

Behind her, Arthur was battling the two numa, with Nicolas standing patiently, watching from the other end of the terrace. Jean-Baptiste had said he was Lucien’s second. Even though he had offered his fealty to Violette, the noble-looking numa seemed happy enough not to get his hands dirty defending her.

 

For once, neither side had thought to bring weapons—the numa planning on a peaceful meeting with Violette, and Arthur trusting her too much.

 

Violette called out: “Alain! Back me up, and take the girl.” Before I could defend myself, the smaller of the two numa had defected from the fight with Arthur and was behind me, clasping my arms in a viselike grip. My injured shoulder flared painfully. I kicked and fought, but my captor was so strong it made no difference.

 

There was no way my sister could take on Violette herself. And no one could come to our rescue, since nobody knew where we were. Violette executed another kick to Georgia’s head, and I watched my sister slump to the ground. Despair gripped me as forcefully as my captor’s grasp. I wouldn’t live to see Vincent again. I thrashed one last time to escape my captor’s grip.

 

“Drop her,” came a voice from across the terrace. I twisted around to see Vincent, his dark face contorted in rage, coming around the corner of the church. Without slowing, he passed the giant statue of the archangel and, grabbing its marble sword in both hands, broke it off below the hilt. Swinging it at the head of Arthur’s attacker, he felled him with one violent blow, and the stone weapon shattered upon contact.

 

In his surprise, my captor dropped me. I landed like a cat on all fours and then sprang to my feet. “Kate!” called Vincent, and pulling a sword from beneath his coat, he threw it to me, hilt-first. Time slowed as I watched the silver blade soar through the air and felt the leather grip in my hand as my fingers closed tightly around it. Then it sped up again as I swung upward with all my might and caught the numa under his chin. The blade sliced cleanly through his neck, and his headless body toppled to the ground.

 

I stood there and watched the head wobble across the stones, trailing blood behind it. For a split second I felt sick, and then I forced myself to stop. Now is not the time.

 

I spun, sword held in front of my face, at the ready. My shoulder hurt so badly now, I had to clench my teeth to hold the position. Before me, on the far side of the terrace, I saw Nicolas running back into the shadows behind the church and Arthur leaping down a darkened stairway after him.

 

On my left, Vincent was making his way toward Violette, who was squatting down next to an unconscious Georgia. Though she was easily a half foot shorter than my sister, Violette picked up Georgia’s limp body in her arms as easily as a mother carrying her child to bed and began lifting it toward the guardrail.

 

“No!” I screamed, dropping my sword. I started toward them, and then stopped myself abruptly. The slightest movement, and the revenant could drop Georgia over the rail to her death. In fact, why hasn’t she already dropped her? The thought flashed through my mind, as I watched her hesitate.

 

“Violette, what are you doing?” exclaimed Vincent. He sounded genuinely confused. I realized that he still didn’t understand what was going on. He hadn’t suspected her in the least. None of us had. Except Georgia, of course—who was now being held in midair above a precipice. Violette stood like a statue, looking down at the dizzying drop.

 

Behind us, the numa that Vincent had downed began to stir. Bleeding profusely from the side of his head, he raised himself to his feet and lunged dangerously in our direction.

 

“Violette, make your numa stop!” I yelled.

 

Inexplicably, she obeyed me, calling, “Paul, stop.” The huge man froze in place. I took a careful step toward her.

 

“You’ve never killed a human, have you?” I asked, wondering if this was the reason for her hesitation.

 

“No,” responded Violette, still looking over the drop-off. She eased Georgia’s body down, propping it atop the guardrail and letting the metal structure take the weight. All she had to do was let go and Georgia would fall. Don’t drop her, I prayed. My sister’s body already looked lifeless. I blinked back the tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

 

“Then why now?” I asked.

 

“You know the formula, don’t you, Vincent? If a revenant kills a human . . .”

 

“She becomes numa,” he finished softly.

 

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