I Should Die

FOURTEEN



MON AMOUR, GASPARD’S ON HIS WAY UP TO GET US. They need me now.

The hour we had spent in Jules’s room had felt like seconds. After not knowing if I’d ever hear from Vincent again, I needed more time with him. My craving for closeness had barely been met. It was like giving just one bite of chocolate to a starving man.

Vincent read my mind. I will come to you tonight. I promise.

“You’d better,” I said, wondering how I could be so ungrateful for the miracle of his being here.

It’s because you know it isn’t permanent, and you’re protecting yourself. This answer came from that honest part of my brain that didn’t let me get away with things. It was like having my mom live in my head—always ready and willing to provide all kinds of valuable advice, whether or not I asked for it. I knew I should listen, but at the moment I just wanted it to shut up.

I met Gaspard on the stairs and we made our way to Vincent’s room, where Jeanne had shooed Jean-Baptiste from Bran’s bedside so that he could eat.

As we entered, Bran’s eyes flew to the air next to me. He stared at Vincent’s ghost for a moment, and then said to Gaspard, “Tell me. Do you plan on attempting a re-embodiment, or will you leave Vincent in this state to aid in the upcoming war with the ancient one?”

Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard stared at him, and then at each other, confused.

I knew it! I thought, my heart racing. I had hoped Bran would have information the bardia didn’t, and I had been right. “What’s a re-embodiment? How does it work?” I begged.

JB pulled up a chair next to Bran. “I don’t think you understand, healer. Vincent’s body has been destroyed. How would we give him another? He can’t just take over a revenant body; we are bound to our spirits until we are destroyed, and sharing a revenant’s body—cohabitation—is harmful to the host’s psyche if continued for any substantial period.”

He continued in a patient manner, speaking respectfully, but as if he didn’t expect Bran to understand how all-things-revenant worked. “As for using a dead human, a volant revenant can possess a fresh corpse—it has been done in exceptional situations—but the possession doesn’t stop the body from decomposing at the natural rate. After rigor mortis set in, the body would be useless to Vincent.”

Although the image conjured by Jean-Baptiste’s reasoning made my stomach turn, I listened intently to understand every angle. Each revenant rule.

Bran blinked a couple of times, and then said, “But I am not referring to a possession. I’m talking about re-creation of his own body.”

No one moved. Finally Gaspard spoke. “Healer, we are unaware of this type of . . . miracle. If indeed there is a method for ‘re-embodiment,’ as you call it, then it is not known to our kind. Is this thing truly possible?”

Bran nodded. “Yes. It is. You honestly have no accounts of this in your records? I would have assumed . . .”

“No,” Gaspard confirmed. “It seems that the separation of our kind and yours over the centuries has led to a loss in what I am beginning to guess used to be shared information between our groups.”

Bran rubbed his fingers across his forehead, and glanced at us doubtfully, as if wondering if he should say more. “My family archives have been fiercely guarded from discovery by those outside our clan as well as by revenants. I always supposed it was so numa couldn’t use our information against us. Or against you. But I assumed that the bardia would have much of the same knowledge as we had. At least for such important traditions. Maybe I’ve said too much. But in this case, I think my indiscretion is warranted.”

He cleared his throat and carried on. “The topic of re-embodiment was recorded in one of my family’s accounts, written by an ancestor many generations back. It explained that for revenants who are destroyed against their will and trapped as a wandering soul, there is recourse. Their body can be re-created and their spirit introduced into it. I do not know the exact process used. I just know the solution exists.”

As the meaning of Bran’s words sank in, I felt dizzy. Up to now, Vincent had been silent. Now he spoke. Don’t get too excited, Kate. This is probably just a legend. A story.

But I couldn’t help it. This faint glimmer of possibility had already banished my despair. There might be a way to get Vincent back. The slimmest of chances was enough to give me hope.

“Do those records still exist?” Jean-Baptiste was asking Bran.

“Yes. They are the same ones that contain the information Violette is searching for. But I must caution you; although I remember my mother reading me one story about re-embodiment, I’m not sure it spells out what must be done during the ritual. It could just be a dead end.”

“No matter. Any information at all is more than what we currently possess. We can send someone immediately for your records.” JB was already moving toward the door. “Where are they kept?”

Bran hesitated. “Somewhere revenants are not allowed to go,” he said, causing JB to stop and turn. His expression fell somewhere between taken aback and furious.

“How about humans?” I asked. “I’ll go.”

No, Vincent said. I ignored him and kept my eyes on Bran.

“My dear, we are trying to keep you out of danger, not throw you into the middle of it,” said Gaspard.

“Actually, since Kate holds the signum bardia, she would be allowed to enter my family’s archives,” Bran said thoughtfully. He rubbed his stubbled chin as he considered.

“Vincent tells me that he forcefully objects to the possibility of Kate going on her own,” Gaspard said, holding up a cautionary finger.

“You could have her accompanied to the entrance if you are worried about her safety,” Bran offered, “but once inside, I assure you she will be perfectly safe.”

“I’m going, Vincent,” I said to the room. “If there is even the slightest possibility we can get you back, there’s no way you will stop me.”

But, mon ange, he said.

“No! I will not listen to you. Jean-Baptiste, will you send someone with me?”

“Of course, dear girl,” he responded immediately.

“Bran has promised I will be perfectly safe once inside, and I’ll have guards until I get there. You can’t say no to that. And even if you do . . .”

Okay, Kate! You win, Vincent conceded. But I’m going with you, too.

Satisfied, I turned to Bran. “When can I go?”

“You will have to wait a few hours—until nightfall. The entrance is in a place that is all too visible during the day.” Although Bran had made it clear that a revenant couldn’t enter his family’s archives, he seemed grateful that I had volunteered. He trusts me, I realized, the thought filling me with inexplicable delight.

“I’m dying of curiosity. Where is it?” I asked. I knew Paris like the back of my hand, and couldn’t imagine where that type of secret place would be hidden.

“It has been in Paris since Roman times,” Bran responded, “and was built as an offshoot of the dwellings of the regular guérisseurs—those healers who dealt with humans, I mean. Where would a Roman soldier likely go for healing and relaxation?” he quizzed me with a tired smile.

“To the Roman baths,” Gaspard and I responded together.

Bran nodded. “My family’s archives are located in a cave beneath the Roman baths, underneath the Cluny Museum.” And with a smile he added, “Hidden underneath one of the city’s busiest neighborhoods: the Latin Quarter.”

“I will fetch Arthur and Ambrose,” Gaspard said. “If you could brief them on the access to your family’s archives, we will send them to guard Kate.” He turned to me. “Perhaps you would like to replace Arthur in your sister’s fight training?”

Now that we had a plan, I wanted to get started . . . not waste the next few hours waiting for nightfall. Come on, I heard Vincent say. I would hate to miss a chance at seeing Georgia with a sword.

“That’s because there’s no possible way she can chop any of your body parts off,” I said, feeling buoyed by Vincent’s joking mood. Although he wasn’t letting on, he must also hope that Bran’s family secrets contained a solution . . . or at least a clue . . . to escape his disembodied state.

“I, however,” I continued, “am in grave bodily danger. Georgia with a sword . . .”

. . . might be dangerous enough to actually be of some use against the numa, Vincent said, the voice in my head trailing off in a chuckle as we headed downstairs to the armory.