I Should Die

THIRTY-ONE



ON THE WAY BACK TO THE HOTEL, VINCENT AND I stopped at a bookstore and spent the next half hour loading up on English-language books. It was the perfect break between the emotion of visiting my home and the formality of dinner with the rest of our group.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Theo was sitting alone at a table in the corner. I sat down across from him. “So where is everyone?” I asked, as Vincent took the chair between us.

“Your grandfather and Monsieur Tândorn send their excuses—they were too tired to join us. And Jules decided to skip dinner and stay with our kindred,” explained Theo. “He’ll meet you tomorrow at the airport.”

As soon as our food was in front of us and the server had left, Theo got down to business.

“To be completely honest, Vincent, I asked the others not to come tonight. I need to talk to you privately, and I assumed you would wish Kate to be with you.”

Vincent seemed curious but not alarmed, though I had warning bells clanging all over the place in my mind. What could Theo possibly need to say to Vincent that the others couldn’t hear? Judging from the secrecy and his troubled expression, it wasn’t a mere “congratulations on being alive.”

Theo picked up his napkin and wrung it anxiously for a moment before smoothing it on his lap. He avoided our eyes as sweat beaded on his brow. Finally he spoke. “I promised Jean-Baptiste I wouldn’t talk to you about this, but I cannot send my French kindred into a war with the numa without getting this off my chest.”

He took a deep breath and began. “I told you I came to Paris after World War Two when you and the numa were battling.”

“Yes,” said Vincent. “You were the only one of your American group to survive.”

“That is correct,” affirmed Theodore. “And the numa-bardia conflict ended just before I left.” He leaned forward, clutching his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. “What do you know about how that was concluded, Vincent?”

“Well, we inflicted greater damage on the numa than they did us. They called for a ceasefire. Jean-Baptiste passed an order that we were not to purposefully hunt the numa down. It would be seen as aggravating the situation, which could result in another war flaring up. He recently revoked that order after Lucien ended the peace treaty by breaking into our residence and trying to destroy me.”

Theodore eyed him for a moment, as if deciding whether Vincent was telling the whole truth, and then nodded. “That is the tip of the iceberg. What actually happened is not quite that cut-and-dry, unfortunately. It was Jean-Baptiste who was in fear for your numbers, not the other way around. When he felt that your kindred were at risk of being decimated, he went to Lucien to broker a peace agreement—letting the numa name their terms.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow and looked skeptical. “JB . . . made a deal with Lucien?”

Theodore nodded. “Jean-Baptiste didn’t want any of you to know what he was doing, so he took me—an outsider—to act as his second. To this day, none of your kindred, not even Gaspard, are aware of what happened during that meeting.”

A chill crept up my spine, as my thoughts traveled from, A peace agreement with the numa. What’s wrong with that? to Negotiations with the enemy kept secret from one’s kindred. Not so good. It was hard to believe that Jean-Baptiste would meet with Lucien and hide it from his kindred. He must have been truly desperate to save them from destruction. But still . . .

“I didn’t know where Jean-Baptiste was taking me until we got there,” Theo continued. “He swore me to secrecy afterward, saying that the survival of France’s revenants depended on my silence. I left France that same day and haven’t been back to Paris since. When Jean-Baptiste phoned me earlier this week, I hadn’t spoken to him for decades.”

Vincent sat back, looking like he had been slapped. “I’m sorry, Gold. I just can’t believe that.”

“It must somehow ring true to you, because you’re not angry. Or defensive,” Theodore stated, studying Vincent’s face. “I think you do believe it. You just don’t want to.”

Vincent lowered his head to his hands. “What were the terms of the agreement?” he asked, without looking up.

“Both sides agreed that their permanent places of residence would not be attacked.”

Vincent looked up and eyed Theodore doubtfully. “But the numa don’t keep permanent places of residence.”

“Yes, they do. That was the other part of the agreement. As the party declaring defeat, Jean-Baptiste surrendered several of his properties to Lucien. The house in Neuilly. Several apartments in central Paris. An entire apartment building in the République neighborhood.”

No. It couldn’t be true. Jean-Baptiste giving his properties to the numa. Not only letting them live in his homes, but . . . hiding them? I could understand making concessions in order to save his clan, but giving shelter to the enemy and not informing his own people? That went way beyond mere negotiations. That felt more like treason.

Vincent looked as upset as I was. He took his napkin off his lap and crushed it between his hands. “That’s not true,” he said, shaking his head in denial. “He rents those out.”

Theodore smiled sadly at Vincent. “Who takes care of those rentals? Does he ever send any of you to check on the places?”

“No, he manages those properties himself,” replied Vincent hesitantly.

“And when Jean-Baptiste retracted his ban on wantonly killing the numa, did he mention that that was where they might be found?”

“No,” stated Vincent, hanging his head in defeat. “Those would be the last places we would look.”

“Quite understandably, he hasn’t wanted you to know about his deal. It’s his pride on the line. He’s gotten too far into this mess and can’t get out without bringing shame on himself. And on the phone the other day, he said that he expected me not to bring up ‘old business.’ Which I haven’t until now. But I can’t in good faith let you return to Paris oblivious of what was done.

“It’s not the danger of the numa having secret safe houses that bothers me. It’s the fact that you will be following a leader who has double dealt behind his own people’s backs. Who has not laid all of his cards on the table for his own people to see—despite the danger it could bring to them.” Theo picked up his water glass, took a drink, and then set it firmly on the table.

“A leader who makes secret deals with the enemy should not be in the position of making decisions for his kindred at this crucial moment. If Violette is determined to overthrow the Paris revenants—with the Champion’s power or without—she is a great danger. And you will need someone you can all trust with your lives to lead you in this fight.”

He leaned forward until Vincent met his eyes. “I know that Jean-Baptiste is like a father to you,” he said. “But I charge you, Vincent Delacroix, with relaying this information to your kindred. Otherwise, when the time comes and the battle begins, their blood will be on your hands.”