I Should Die

FORTY-THREE



OUR GROUP LOOKS OVER THE CITY FROM THE vantage point of La Maison’s roof terrace. Paris once again reminds me of a great lady. Tonight she wears a black velvet dress and pearls flash from her buildings’ windows. But for me, the vista is slashed by flaming red lines. A few on our side of the river appear as thick as columns, whereas the ones far off in the direction of Montmartre are as thin as crimson threads.

“How many do you see?” Vincent stands by my side holding my cold hand in his warm one.

“A lot.”

“Like a few dozen?” he asks.

“Like more than a hundred,” I respond. Silence falls over our little group as everyone studies the horizon for something they cannot see.

“They’re not all in one place,” I continue. “There are a group down that way,” I say, pointing toward Chinatown. “Others over there, on the other side of Bastille.” I indicate a forest of red beams far to our east. “More up toward Montmartre.”

Vincent studies the ground at his feet for a moment, and then turns to our group. “We need more bardia,” he says. “If we count all of our kindred in and directly around Paris, we aren’t more than forty. We can take the numa little by little, as long as they don’t group together. But if they do, we’re lost. Who else can we ask to join us?”

“Jean-Baptiste said that he and Gaspard will join us as soon as Gaspard reanimates early this morning,” Arthur says.

“Won’t it take him a while to recover?” I ask.

“No,” Arthur responds. “He wasn’t injured when he went dormant. We old guys are up and on our feet practically as soon as we awake. It’s you newbies that have a harder time in the morning,” he says with a grin.

Arthur’s in a really good mood for us being on the brink of warfare, I think, and wonder if it is because we will soon fight Violette, or something else . . . like my sister, for example.

“I put in a call to our New York kindred a few hours ago,” Vincent admits, reaching back for my hand. I look up at him in surprise. “Jules?” I ask hopefully.

“No, I talked to Theo Gold. But he was supposed to pass the message on. I asked that Jules bring a contingent here as soon as possible.”

The others nod doubtfully. In the time it would take for Jules to bring a group over from New York, the war could already be over.

“It’s been over a week since I talked to Charles, and I’ve left him a million messages telling him we need him,” Charlotte says. “I tried to contact him again today. No response. He and his hippy-dippy in-touch-with-their-feelings kindred are probably still up in the mountains, meditating on leaves or something. I’ll keep trying, but they’ll never get here in time if we engage today.” She is trying to sound lighthearted, but I know she wants her brother by her side if she is going into battle.

Vincent nods. “Okay, I’m putting out a call to all of France’s revenants. Anyone else you know within driving distance, please contact. This is going to go down in the next twenty-four hours. If we wait any longer, their forces can only grow and their defenses become stronger. We have to strike first. And we’ll start tonight while they’re still scattered and in small groups.”

People pull out their cell phones as they head down the stairs. Vincent puts his arms around my waist, presses his lips to my forehead, and leans back to look me in the eye. “Are you going to be able to do this? You don’t even need to fight. If you can just lead us to the groups that will be enough.”

“Believe it or not, I am dying for some action. I feel like I could sprint a whole marathon.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Vincent says, his lips forming a smile. “But you’re not feeling weak? You haven’t even been fully animated for a day.”

“I feel totally wired,” I admit, bouncing up onto my toes. Taking his face in my hands, I pull him close and kiss him.

“Yeah. I’m kind of feeling the same myself,” he says with a sexy grin. “Let’s just try to hold that thought until we defeat the numa.”

We kiss again and his expression becomes serious. “I really don’t want you in the heart of the action, Kate. Even though you’re strong, you’re also new. And, yes, as a revenant you are hard to destroy. But don’t think for a second that Violette has given up on capturing you. You are her prize, and every numa out there will be trying to bring you back to their leader.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“Just because you’re the Champion doesn’t mean you have to act like one,” Vincent says with a ghost of a smile.

“The prophecy says I will lead you to victory,” I tease.

“If you lead us to each of Paris’s numa, I would say that more than qualifies,” Vincent allows. “But victory can be measured in lots of ways. Whether any of us will survive this war isn’t at all sure. I want to see my kindred safely through without loss of life. Especially yours.”

Bran is waiting for me when we step down through the trapdoor. “Kate!” he exclaims, and reaches out as if he wants to hug me, before changing his mind and dropping his arms by his sides. I hug him instead, his skinny frame floppy in my arms.

“I am sorry, my dear, but I can’t look you straight in the face. Your aura was already hard to look at when you were human. Now it blinds me.” He averts his eyes and looks at the floor behind me.

“Bran, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“What might have happened if I had? You could have put yourself in harm’s way just to discover if I was right. Or perhaps Jean-Baptiste would have. He is a good man, but was desperate to have the aid of the Champion.”

Bran tries again, unsuccessfully, to look me in the face. “Now we know why. He needed someone to help him get out of this mess he had gotten into. To destroy the numa so he would no longer be bound to his shameful bargain.”

I touch his arm thoughtfully. “Do you know what my powers are, Bran?” I ask.

“I have no information besides what is contained in the prophecy. But you already performed one of your most important roles: You single-handedly reunited the flame-fingered with our bardia wards after centuries of being lost to each other. That role in itself saved your Vincent. Once I master the gifts of ease of bardia suffering and dispersion, our continued alliance in the future can only be beneficial.”

With effort, he shifts his eyes to look straight into mine. His face takes on an unreadable expression: something between sadness and hope.

“Be careful, Kate,” he says. And leaning forward, he gives me an awkward back-patting hug.



Charlotte is waiting in my room when I arrive. She has brought my fighting gear up from the armory, and is already dressed in hers, ready to go. She sits beside a low table helping herself to a tray of food. I pop a cheese gougère into my mouth and savor its flakey goodness as I pull up a chair. “I’m ravenous!” I admit.

“When’s the last time you ate?” she asks.

“On the boat. Violette was feeding me so that I would get my strength back and fully animate. Looks like that worked a little too well for her!” I think back to the strange, sad numa boy, Louis, and something tugs inside me.

Charlotte munches on an apple slice, looking pensive.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“Ambrose,” she responds. “He’s been acting really weird lately.”

“Weird good or weird bad?” I ask, popping a melon ball into my mouth.

“Weird freaky,” she replies, looking troubled. “He keeps watching me. I wonder if he questions JB’s decision to name me as second. Maybe he’s waiting for me to slip up or something.”

“Hmm,” I say, unable to keep my lips from crooking up at the corners.

Mercifully, there is a knock on the door and Arthur sticks his head in. “Fifteen minutes,” he says. My heart skips a beat and I realize that I’m nervous. The other times I fought, the fight came to us. I’ve never had time to think about it in advance.

“Man, he’s got it bad for your sister,” Charlotte says after he’s gone. “But she is really playing it cool.”

“It could be because Papy and Mamie would completely freak if they thought that another of their granddaughters was falling for a revenant.”

Charlotte shrugs. “Your grandparents are involved now, whether or not they want to be. You’re one of us—it’s not like they can just pack you up and take you home.”

I think about Mamie and Papy and their response to seeing me: joy and relief mixed with horror and despair. My heart aches. Will they ever be able to look at me the same as they did before? I change the subject. “How does it feel to be Vincent’s second?”

“Like I was born for it. Like I’ve been waiting for this role for the last fifty years.” She smiles. “It’s time for you to get suited up. I’ll wait for you in the foyer.” She stands and turns to go.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t leave.”

She looks at me curiously, and then comes over to put her arms around me. “This is scary, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yep.”

She gives me a squeeze and then walks over to the bed and picks up a pair of leather pants. I shuffle out of my jeans and take them from her.

“Violette’s timing really sucks,” she says. “You shouldn’t have to jump right in like this before you even have time to test yourself. But we’re going into it together. You, me, Ambrose, Vincent, and the rest of our kindred. We never work alone. You will always be one part of a whole. Together we can win this fight—I am sure of it.”

Charlotte’s courage is contagious. As I pull on layers of protective clothing, I begin to feel emboldened, and a sense of purpose sparks my will. I am bardia. Whether or not I feel capable, I was made for this.