I Should Die

I Should Die - By Amy Plum


PART I


ONE



IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT I SAT ON A BRIDGE SPANNING the Seine, watching a bouquet of crushed white lilies float toward the spotlit Eiffel Tower. I strained to listen for the words I thought I’d just heard. The words of a dead boy—of my boyfriend’s ghost. I could have sworn he spoke to me a second ago. Which was impossible.

But there they were again—his words appearing once more in my mind, the two syllables cutting me as sharply as a whip crack.

Mon ange.

My heart hammered. “Vincent? Is that really you?” I asked with a trembling voice.

Kate, can you hear me?

“Vincent, you’re volant. Violette hasn’t destroyed you!” I leapt to my feet and spun around, searching anxiously for a glimpse of him, though I knew there would be nothing to see. I stood alone on the Pont des Arts. The surface of the water rippled and moved beneath me like the back of a great, dark serpent—the twinkling lights on the riverbanks reflected in its writhing smoothness. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around myself.

No. She hasn’t destroyed my corpse . . . yet.

“Oh my God, Vincent, I was sure she had done it.” I wiped a tear from my cheek before a flood of others followed. Just moments earlier, I had given up all hope of ever hearing from him again. I had been positive that he was gone forever, his body burned by his enemy. But here he was. I didn’t understand. I choked back tears.

Kate. Breathe, Vincent insisted.

I exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe you’re here, talking to me. Where are you? Where did she take your body?”

I’m lying dormant in Violette’s castle in the Loire Valley. I only became conscious a few minutes ago. As soon as I figured out what she was doing, I came to you. Vincent’s words sounded bleak. Hopeless.

My hands shook as I whipped my phone out of my pocket. “Tell me exactly where you are. I’m calling Ambrose—he’ll get a group together and we’ll be right there.”

It’s too late for a rescue, Kate. Violette has been waiting for my mind to awake, and now that I’m volant, she will burn my body. When I left, some of her henchmen were stoking a fire while she performed some kind of ancient ritual she claimed would bind my spirit to her once I’m reduced to ashes. I only have a few minutes, and I want to spend them with you.

“It’s never too late,” I insisted. “We could try to stop whatever it is that Violette’s doing. I’m sure your kindred could come up with some kind of distraction. We have to try.” Why was Vincent giving up so easily?

Kate. Stop, he pleaded. Please don’t waste the little time I have trying to call Ambrose when there is no way that you can reach me in time. There is no way, believe me.

The force in his voice made me hesitate, but I kept staring at my phone as a lump formed in my throat. If I couldn’t do anything, it meant that all was lost. My initial shock was being overtaken by an icy shawl of realization: The boy I loved was minutes away from being burned on a pyre. “No!” I cried, willing the horror to go away.

Vincent was silent, allowing the truth to sink in. I was losing my love—forever. If Vincent’s body was destroyed, I would never touch him again. Never feel his mouth against mine. Never hold him in my arms.

But he won’t be completely gone. Will he? I had to make sure. My voice came out in a strangled croak. “At least you’re volant, right? If Violette had burned you before your mind awoke, you would be gone forever—body and spirit.”

I wish she had. Vincent’s words were bitter. She said she needed my spirit present in order to perform the power transfer. A few seconds passed before I heard his voice again. I think I’d rather be nonexistent than help Violette become powerful enough to destroy my kindred.

I didn’t agree. Vincent still existed, even if his body didn’t. The boy I loved so desperately hadn’t completely disappeared. That’s something, I thought, feeling a glimmer of hope. And then I remembered, I will never see him. Or feel his skin against mine as we touch hands. Lips. Never again. And the hope disappeared.

Fury fought despair inside me. “Why did it have to be you?” I asked. “Why are you the one with the power she’s ready to kill for?”

If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.

“I wish it were someone else,” I said selfishly. “I want you to live.” But I knew Vincent wouldn’t agree. His whole existence was about sacrificing himself for others. He would give himself in a heartbeat to save one of his kindred.

I looked out over the rippling water and imagined Vincent materializing before me. The soft black of his hair. The sapphire flash of his dark eyes. His tall, solid frame. Vincent’s phantom hung suspended over the waves for a moment, glimmering transparently in the moonlight, before dissolving back into my mind’s eye.

I don’t want to watch her burn my body.

There was fear in his voice. Vincent had experienced many violent deaths, but this end was final. I wanted to take his hand. I wanted to touch him. Comfort him. But all I had were words. “Then don’t go back. Stay here with me until the end.” I tried to sound brave, but I was trembling.

“I love you.” I spoke the words, while silently urging myself not to cry. The last thing Vincent needed right now was to see me mourn him.

You are my life, Kate. I have been fighting my destiny to be with you, and after all that struggle I find myself powerless; I can’t stop Violette.

I didn’t respond. Because if I did, I would scream. My heart felt like it was being wrenched from my chest as Vincent was being separated from me for eternity. The boy who I had given so much to love—who I had gone against my sense of self-preservation to be with—was being taken away from me by a megalomaniac adolescent, and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do about it. I couldn’t hold it back: I began crying again. But not from sadness. My tears were tears of impotent fury.

Will you pass a message on to Jean-Baptiste and the others for me?

“Of course,” I gasped, trying to speak around the boulder of hatred lodged in my throat.

Remind them that since I didn’t offer myself voluntarily to Violette, she will not receive my full power. That’s the only ray of hope I can see.

Apologize to JB for me. For my disbelief, he continued. I wish I had figured out what all of this meant while I still had a chance.

“Yes. I’ll tell them.” My breath made little puffs of cloud in the frigid air. I rubbed my hands briskly on my arms. Leaping down off the end of the bridge, I strode swiftly in the direction of La Maison, knowing that Vincent’s spirit would accompany me. Even if it was too late to save him, I had to tell the others what was going on.

Kate, I want you to know that I awoke the first time I saw you.

I had managed to pull myself together in order to carry out the monumental task of putting one foot in front of the other, but a declaration of love from the boy I was about to lose was too much for me. Tears blurred my vision as he continued.

Something inside me that had been still and silent since my first death all of a sudden sparked and began to live again. I knew there was something different about you, and I had to find out what it was.

“When was the first time you saw me?” I asked, trying to distract myself—to keep myself from breaking down right then and there on the riverbank. “Are you talking about the Café Sainte-Lucie?”

No. He laughed. I had seen you around our neighborhood—long before the café. We kept crossing paths for weeks before you actually noticed me. And I couldn’t help wondering who you were and why you were so tortured—so mournful. I kept hoping your sister or your grandparents would say your name. We just called you the sad girl.

“Who is ‘we’?” I asked, my pace slowing.

Ambrose, Jules, and me.

“Then they must have recognized me that first day in the café,” I said, surprised by this new perspective on our story.

His silence was an affirmation. You’ve intrigued me from the very beginning. And you still do. You’re different. I wanted to spend the rest of your life discovering who you were. But now . . . His words dissolved and then reappeared with renewed determination.

Kate, I promise I will find a way to get away from Violette and come back to you. Even if it’s too late for us, I want you to know I will always be near. I’ll always be watching out for you.

Stunned, I froze mid-step. “What do you mean, ‘too late for us’?” I asked, feeling like I had been punched in the gut.

Kate, in a few minutes my body will no longer exist. From now on, the only thing I can do for you is try to keep you safe. A human and a revenant—that was a difficult enough challenge. But a human and a ghost? Mon amour, I would never wish that for . . .

And that was it. Those were the last words Vincent spoke to me before he was gone, leaving me alone on a riverbank with nothing but the whistling of the winter wind.