Until I Die
Page 20
“I know. We have to plan something soon.”
She glanced at Vincent, who was standing next to me talking to Arthur, and then back to me. From her expression, I could tell she wanted to ask me something. I took a step away from him and lowered my voice. “Yes?”
“I had been thinking about that book you found at your Papy’s place. The Immortal Love one. Gaspard actually has a copy of it, but it’s missing. Do you happen to have it?”
I felt my face redden. Damn! Once I had gotten what I needed from it, I had totally forgotten about the book. Why can’t I just tell her? Because I’d look like a thief. “No,” I answered.
“Paris’s revenants use Jean-Baptiste’s collection like a lending library: They never leave a note when they take things. It’s so frustrating!” Violette actually stomped her foot like a spoiled child, and I had to press my lips together hard not to laugh.
“Come on!” my sister yelled from where the bouncer was checking his list. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go,” Vincent said, taking my hand as the bouncer held the door open and we filed into the darkened room.
Our group stood near the front of a packed room, watching Sebastien’s band play on a raised stage draped with leopard-skin curtains. Between us and the band were a pack of teenage girls, dancing and watching the musicians adoringly.
Jules had brought a date—some gorgeous foreign model-looking type. They had walked in soon after we arrived, her cattish eyes looking sleepy as she poutily scanned the crowd from the protection of his arm.
“This is Giulianna,” he offered, introducing her as I joined them at the bar.
“Ciao,” she said, and turned to order a drink.
As Jules gave me cheek-kisses, he whispered, “She has nothing on you, of course, Kates. It’s just that you’re so very . . . taken.” He winked and put his arm around the Italian bombshell, leaning in to yell his order to the bartender.
“You okay, Ambrose?” I asked, picking up the Perriers I had bought. He leaned tiredly against the bar with a tomato juice in one hand.
“Gonna be dormant later tonight,” he said. “Plus, I think I’ve met my match with your sister. I haven’t felt this exhausted in decades.”
I gave him a knowing smile and carried the drinks back to where Vincent stood with Georgia. “I see some friends,” she said. “Be back in a few.” And she disappeared into the crowd.
Vincent looked tense as I handed him his drink. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “It’s just that I always feel exposed when we go places like this without someone volant along to scope out the surrounding area.” He tried to look more relaxed and even started nodding along to the music, but I could tell he was worried.
“It’s a safe enough neighborhood, isn’t it?”
“Normally I would say yes. But it seems like we’ve been playing without any rules lately.” He caught my look. “Don’t worry—I’m sure everything’s fine.”
When I had filled Georgia in about all things revenant after the fateful showdown with Lucien, she had sworn not to tell a soul. I knew their secret was safe with her. Although my sister had her faults, when she made me a promise, I knew she would keep it. And as far as my hanging out with a group of immortals, all she cared about was that they were nice to me.
So when Georgia introduced everyone after the show, it was clear that Sebastien didn’t have a clue what Vincent was. And Vincent, after almost a century of practice, was a pro at acting human.
Georgia gave me a happy check-it-out-our-boyfriends-get-along look. I turned to say good-bye to Jules and Giulianna, who were leaving with a tired-looking Ambrose, and then checked my watch. It was almost midnight. In a few short hours he would be lying on his bed, stone-cold dead. No wonder he hadn’t brought a date.
The bartender locked the front door behind them and began cleaning up as we stood around and waited for Sebastien to unplug amps and finish things up with his band. “I know you wanted to go out after, but it’s taking them forever,” I finally told my sister. “I think we’re all ready to leave.”
“Just a sec,” Georgia said. She skipped over to where Sebastien and his group were working, gave him an enthusiastic kiss, and began making arrangements. I glanced around to see Violette and Arthur standing against the wall, looking like they’d rather be anywhere except here. If they had enjoyed the evening, they sure weren’t letting it show. As we made our way to the back door, they followed silently behind.
“So I’m meeting Seb and his band at a bar just a few blocks away. Wanna come?” Georgia asked, directing the question at me and Vincent and ignoring the fact that the others were even with us.
“What do you feel like, Kate?” Vincent asked, putting his arm around me as we exited the building and began walking down the tiny cobblestone alleyway toward the main street.
“I’m pretty tired,” I admitted.
“We’ll walk you to the bar and wait till Sebastien arrives,” Vincent said, throwing his free arm around my sister.
“I won’t say no to a revenant escort,” she said, “not that this neighborhood’s dangerous or anything.”
“I beg to differ,” came Violette’s voice from just behind.
We turned to see four dark shapes walking toward us down the alley. A wave of ice-cold fear washed over me. Numa. After two months of near invisibility, here they were, looking larger than life as they bore down on us with a steady but rapid pace.
Vincent and Arthur drew their swords from their coats so quickly that I didn’t even see them move. It’s a good thing it’s winter, I thought. Where would you hide a two-foot rapier wearing shorts and flip-flops?
Vincent handed me his sword and drew another from inside his coat, before shrugging off the garment and throwing it to one side. I saw Violette’s blade flash under the lone streetlight as she dropped her down-filled coat to the ground. She too had come prepared.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Georgia start to panic as she tried the doors of the adjoining buildings, pulling forcefully at their handles. She shrieked a curse as she realized that everything was locked. “Stay behind us,” I yelled with a shaking voice, just as the first two numa arrived and began swinging their swords at Vincent and Arthur.
I knew what I was supposed to do. We had gone over it in my weaponry lessons. As the least experienced, I was expected to act as the second line of defense. If forced, I should fight. If not, I should stand behind Vincent or anyone else who had already been doing this for several lifetimes. I held my sword in front of me, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet, ready to spring if I needed to. Be calm, I thought, pushing the fear into a far corner of my mind. Get into the rhythm.
Vincent had led his numa to one side of the alleyway and was fighting it with a fury that made my blood feel like it was shooting instead of flowing through my veins. Once again, I saw him as the avenging angel that he had been for much of the last century.
Violette had faced off with another numa, using the same martial arts skills I had seen Charlotte practice to make up for the drawback of her tiny frame. Her assailant was struggling just to keep up. She would have the advantage in no time.
Arthur was fighting the other two numa, using himself as a shield to keep them away from me and Georgia. I assumed that his strategy was to stall until either Violette or Vincent could dispatch their foe and join him to even up the odds. He seemed to be succeeding until, with one concerted effort, the two attackers pushed past his blade and leapt by him to land right in front of me.
I held up my sword just in time to meet the numa’s as it crashed down toward my head, and then jumped aside to let him follow through. His blade slid down mine, and the tip smashed the ground. Arthur dashed past me toward Georgia, following the second numa who had gone straight for her. I didn’t have time to glance her way but knew that Arthur could defend her better than I could. I had my own numa to concentrate on, and only two seconds to skip backward away from him as he recovered his balance.
I can’t do this. As the thought flashed through my mind, I had a panic-induced out-of-body experience. I felt like I was up in the air looking down at myself: a teenage girl standing in an alleyway brandishing a sword at a man almost twice her size. I can’t, I thought again. I’m too afraid to move.
My enemy righted himself and started toward me. I looked up into his cold, murderous eyes, and that was all it took. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins and my heart beating in my chest, and I was suddenly in the zone. With a yell that I didn’t realize was coming from my own throat until it stopped, I began moving, slashing, dancing backward and leaning from side to side to avoid his flying sword before lunging back toward him and chopping at his torso. He was able to match each of my moves, but I also met his.
Time stood still as our battle raged on, until all of a sudden my foe was down on the ground. Vincent stood behind him, his sword run through the numa’s chest.
I instinctively swung around, my sword held before me as I scanned the alleyway for any remaining danger. Violette stood a few yards away, pushing her foot against a crumpled heap on the ground, using her weight as leverage to pull her sword out of the motionless body. Vincent had taken out his own enemy as well as mine.
And Georgia was sitting curled up in a little ball inside a doorway, as Arthur dragged himself down, back to the wall, into a sitting position next to her. He held his upper arm in his hand, blood flowing freely through a large tear in his shirt at his shoulder. He kicked at something next to his foot, and his slain numa’s dismembered head rolled away, settling to rest against its body.
I ran to Georgia as she uncurled. As if in a daze, she stretched a hand toward Arthur. “Are you okay?”
He looked surprisingly strong for being badly wounded as he glowered at the decapitated body. “I’ll be fine,” he growled.
The others rushed over. Vincent took a look at the wound and then pulled off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Arthur’s shoulder, binding it tightly underneath the arm.
Violette smoothed her hand comfortingly through Arthur’s hair and pulled out her phone. “Jean-Baptiste? They’re back in action. We have four dead numa here—up near Montmartre. Should we just leave them, or do you want to send someone for the bodies?”
She made arrangements while Vincent went to pick up their abandoned coats.
“You should probably come back with us to La Maison,” I said to Georgia. As I helped her to her feet, I glanced up at Vincent, who was back, slipping his coat on as he stood over us. He shook his head and gave me a helpless shrug. I had forgotten about Jean-Baptiste’s injunction against my sister’s visiting the house. Damn his rules.
“I’d rather go straight home,” she said, solving my quandary.
“I’ll walk the two of you to a taxi,” Vincent offered, helping her along. Georgia was shaking so hard she could barely stand.
“Is Arthur going to be okay?” she asked, addressing Violette directly for the first time that night.
“He’ll be dormant in a few days. After that his wound will heal,” she responded with the assurance of someone who had lived through this type of experience before.
Once on the main street, Vincent packed us into the back of a taxi. “Go straight home—don’t stop anywhere along the way,” he called as the taxi drove off.
Jules was waiting outside our building when we arrived. He opened the taxi door and helped us out, and then leaned in to pay the driver. “I heard you were incredible,” he said, leading the way to our front door.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Superhero Kate, fighting off the numa,” he replied, admiration glowing in his eyes. He swung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him.
Having been so worried about Georgia and Arthur, I had completely forgotten about my performance in the alley. I fought a numa, I marveled. And this time I did it without Vincent possessing me. I shook my head in wonder, before glancing back at Jules and admitting, “It wasn’t me who killed him. Vincent did the honor.”
“He told me you kept the guy at bay until he was able to get to you. That’s pretty amazing for only a couple of months’ training. But then again, I was already fully aware of your awesomeness.” He murmured this last part as he opened the door. Georgia staggered silently past him into the front hall and pressed the button for the elevator.
“She was so close to being killed,” I said. “Arthur barely got to her in time to save her life.”
“Vincent told me.” Jules nodded. “Make sure she rests the next couple of days. She’ll be pretty weak—Arthur will be getting all her energy.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“So . . . you don’t know all our secrets yet!” Jules responded with a wry smile. “Just ask Vincent about energy transfer. And make sure Georgia rests while she gets over her shock.”
He turned to leave, stepping down from the door to the pavement.
“Hey, what happened to your date?” I asked.
“I’ve got my priorities,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in a debonair gesture. “And keeping you alive, Kates, is a bit higher up on my list than a late date with a pretty signorina.”
“Glad to know you care.” I smiled and, hesitating for just a second, stepped down from the doorway and gave him a good old American hug before turning to follow my sister.
TWENTY-TWO
I PEEKED INTO GEORGIA’S ROOM THE NEXT MORNING. She was sitting propped up in bed, flipping through a music magazine. Her hair was sticking straight out, and her regular peaches-and-cream complexion was verging on kiwi-and-stale-milk.
She glanced at Vincent, who was standing next to me talking to Arthur, and then back to me. From her expression, I could tell she wanted to ask me something. I took a step away from him and lowered my voice. “Yes?”
“I had been thinking about that book you found at your Papy’s place. The Immortal Love one. Gaspard actually has a copy of it, but it’s missing. Do you happen to have it?”
I felt my face redden. Damn! Once I had gotten what I needed from it, I had totally forgotten about the book. Why can’t I just tell her? Because I’d look like a thief. “No,” I answered.
“Paris’s revenants use Jean-Baptiste’s collection like a lending library: They never leave a note when they take things. It’s so frustrating!” Violette actually stomped her foot like a spoiled child, and I had to press my lips together hard not to laugh.
“Come on!” my sister yelled from where the bouncer was checking his list. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go,” Vincent said, taking my hand as the bouncer held the door open and we filed into the darkened room.
Our group stood near the front of a packed room, watching Sebastien’s band play on a raised stage draped with leopard-skin curtains. Between us and the band were a pack of teenage girls, dancing and watching the musicians adoringly.
Jules had brought a date—some gorgeous foreign model-looking type. They had walked in soon after we arrived, her cattish eyes looking sleepy as she poutily scanned the crowd from the protection of his arm.
“This is Giulianna,” he offered, introducing her as I joined them at the bar.
“Ciao,” she said, and turned to order a drink.
As Jules gave me cheek-kisses, he whispered, “She has nothing on you, of course, Kates. It’s just that you’re so very . . . taken.” He winked and put his arm around the Italian bombshell, leaning in to yell his order to the bartender.
“You okay, Ambrose?” I asked, picking up the Perriers I had bought. He leaned tiredly against the bar with a tomato juice in one hand.
“Gonna be dormant later tonight,” he said. “Plus, I think I’ve met my match with your sister. I haven’t felt this exhausted in decades.”
I gave him a knowing smile and carried the drinks back to where Vincent stood with Georgia. “I see some friends,” she said. “Be back in a few.” And she disappeared into the crowd.
Vincent looked tense as I handed him his drink. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “It’s just that I always feel exposed when we go places like this without someone volant along to scope out the surrounding area.” He tried to look more relaxed and even started nodding along to the music, but I could tell he was worried.
“It’s a safe enough neighborhood, isn’t it?”
“Normally I would say yes. But it seems like we’ve been playing without any rules lately.” He caught my look. “Don’t worry—I’m sure everything’s fine.”
When I had filled Georgia in about all things revenant after the fateful showdown with Lucien, she had sworn not to tell a soul. I knew their secret was safe with her. Although my sister had her faults, when she made me a promise, I knew she would keep it. And as far as my hanging out with a group of immortals, all she cared about was that they were nice to me.
So when Georgia introduced everyone after the show, it was clear that Sebastien didn’t have a clue what Vincent was. And Vincent, after almost a century of practice, was a pro at acting human.
Georgia gave me a happy check-it-out-our-boyfriends-get-along look. I turned to say good-bye to Jules and Giulianna, who were leaving with a tired-looking Ambrose, and then checked my watch. It was almost midnight. In a few short hours he would be lying on his bed, stone-cold dead. No wonder he hadn’t brought a date.
The bartender locked the front door behind them and began cleaning up as we stood around and waited for Sebastien to unplug amps and finish things up with his band. “I know you wanted to go out after, but it’s taking them forever,” I finally told my sister. “I think we’re all ready to leave.”
“Just a sec,” Georgia said. She skipped over to where Sebastien and his group were working, gave him an enthusiastic kiss, and began making arrangements. I glanced around to see Violette and Arthur standing against the wall, looking like they’d rather be anywhere except here. If they had enjoyed the evening, they sure weren’t letting it show. As we made our way to the back door, they followed silently behind.
“So I’m meeting Seb and his band at a bar just a few blocks away. Wanna come?” Georgia asked, directing the question at me and Vincent and ignoring the fact that the others were even with us.
“What do you feel like, Kate?” Vincent asked, putting his arm around me as we exited the building and began walking down the tiny cobblestone alleyway toward the main street.
“I’m pretty tired,” I admitted.
“We’ll walk you to the bar and wait till Sebastien arrives,” Vincent said, throwing his free arm around my sister.
“I won’t say no to a revenant escort,” she said, “not that this neighborhood’s dangerous or anything.”
“I beg to differ,” came Violette’s voice from just behind.
We turned to see four dark shapes walking toward us down the alley. A wave of ice-cold fear washed over me. Numa. After two months of near invisibility, here they were, looking larger than life as they bore down on us with a steady but rapid pace.
Vincent and Arthur drew their swords from their coats so quickly that I didn’t even see them move. It’s a good thing it’s winter, I thought. Where would you hide a two-foot rapier wearing shorts and flip-flops?
Vincent handed me his sword and drew another from inside his coat, before shrugging off the garment and throwing it to one side. I saw Violette’s blade flash under the lone streetlight as she dropped her down-filled coat to the ground. She too had come prepared.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Georgia start to panic as she tried the doors of the adjoining buildings, pulling forcefully at their handles. She shrieked a curse as she realized that everything was locked. “Stay behind us,” I yelled with a shaking voice, just as the first two numa arrived and began swinging their swords at Vincent and Arthur.
I knew what I was supposed to do. We had gone over it in my weaponry lessons. As the least experienced, I was expected to act as the second line of defense. If forced, I should fight. If not, I should stand behind Vincent or anyone else who had already been doing this for several lifetimes. I held my sword in front of me, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet, ready to spring if I needed to. Be calm, I thought, pushing the fear into a far corner of my mind. Get into the rhythm.
Vincent had led his numa to one side of the alleyway and was fighting it with a fury that made my blood feel like it was shooting instead of flowing through my veins. Once again, I saw him as the avenging angel that he had been for much of the last century.
Violette had faced off with another numa, using the same martial arts skills I had seen Charlotte practice to make up for the drawback of her tiny frame. Her assailant was struggling just to keep up. She would have the advantage in no time.
Arthur was fighting the other two numa, using himself as a shield to keep them away from me and Georgia. I assumed that his strategy was to stall until either Violette or Vincent could dispatch their foe and join him to even up the odds. He seemed to be succeeding until, with one concerted effort, the two attackers pushed past his blade and leapt by him to land right in front of me.
I held up my sword just in time to meet the numa’s as it crashed down toward my head, and then jumped aside to let him follow through. His blade slid down mine, and the tip smashed the ground. Arthur dashed past me toward Georgia, following the second numa who had gone straight for her. I didn’t have time to glance her way but knew that Arthur could defend her better than I could. I had my own numa to concentrate on, and only two seconds to skip backward away from him as he recovered his balance.
I can’t do this. As the thought flashed through my mind, I had a panic-induced out-of-body experience. I felt like I was up in the air looking down at myself: a teenage girl standing in an alleyway brandishing a sword at a man almost twice her size. I can’t, I thought again. I’m too afraid to move.
My enemy righted himself and started toward me. I looked up into his cold, murderous eyes, and that was all it took. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins and my heart beating in my chest, and I was suddenly in the zone. With a yell that I didn’t realize was coming from my own throat until it stopped, I began moving, slashing, dancing backward and leaning from side to side to avoid his flying sword before lunging back toward him and chopping at his torso. He was able to match each of my moves, but I also met his.
Time stood still as our battle raged on, until all of a sudden my foe was down on the ground. Vincent stood behind him, his sword run through the numa’s chest.
I instinctively swung around, my sword held before me as I scanned the alleyway for any remaining danger. Violette stood a few yards away, pushing her foot against a crumpled heap on the ground, using her weight as leverage to pull her sword out of the motionless body. Vincent had taken out his own enemy as well as mine.
And Georgia was sitting curled up in a little ball inside a doorway, as Arthur dragged himself down, back to the wall, into a sitting position next to her. He held his upper arm in his hand, blood flowing freely through a large tear in his shirt at his shoulder. He kicked at something next to his foot, and his slain numa’s dismembered head rolled away, settling to rest against its body.
I ran to Georgia as she uncurled. As if in a daze, she stretched a hand toward Arthur. “Are you okay?”
He looked surprisingly strong for being badly wounded as he glowered at the decapitated body. “I’ll be fine,” he growled.
The others rushed over. Vincent took a look at the wound and then pulled off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Arthur’s shoulder, binding it tightly underneath the arm.
Violette smoothed her hand comfortingly through Arthur’s hair and pulled out her phone. “Jean-Baptiste? They’re back in action. We have four dead numa here—up near Montmartre. Should we just leave them, or do you want to send someone for the bodies?”
She made arrangements while Vincent went to pick up their abandoned coats.
“You should probably come back with us to La Maison,” I said to Georgia. As I helped her to her feet, I glanced up at Vincent, who was back, slipping his coat on as he stood over us. He shook his head and gave me a helpless shrug. I had forgotten about Jean-Baptiste’s injunction against my sister’s visiting the house. Damn his rules.
“I’d rather go straight home,” she said, solving my quandary.
“I’ll walk the two of you to a taxi,” Vincent offered, helping her along. Georgia was shaking so hard she could barely stand.
“Is Arthur going to be okay?” she asked, addressing Violette directly for the first time that night.
“He’ll be dormant in a few days. After that his wound will heal,” she responded with the assurance of someone who had lived through this type of experience before.
Once on the main street, Vincent packed us into the back of a taxi. “Go straight home—don’t stop anywhere along the way,” he called as the taxi drove off.
Jules was waiting outside our building when we arrived. He opened the taxi door and helped us out, and then leaned in to pay the driver. “I heard you were incredible,” he said, leading the way to our front door.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Superhero Kate, fighting off the numa,” he replied, admiration glowing in his eyes. He swung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him.
Having been so worried about Georgia and Arthur, I had completely forgotten about my performance in the alley. I fought a numa, I marveled. And this time I did it without Vincent possessing me. I shook my head in wonder, before glancing back at Jules and admitting, “It wasn’t me who killed him. Vincent did the honor.”
“He told me you kept the guy at bay until he was able to get to you. That’s pretty amazing for only a couple of months’ training. But then again, I was already fully aware of your awesomeness.” He murmured this last part as he opened the door. Georgia staggered silently past him into the front hall and pressed the button for the elevator.
“She was so close to being killed,” I said. “Arthur barely got to her in time to save her life.”
“Vincent told me.” Jules nodded. “Make sure she rests the next couple of days. She’ll be pretty weak—Arthur will be getting all her energy.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“So . . . you don’t know all our secrets yet!” Jules responded with a wry smile. “Just ask Vincent about energy transfer. And make sure Georgia rests while she gets over her shock.”
He turned to leave, stepping down from the door to the pavement.
“Hey, what happened to your date?” I asked.
“I’ve got my priorities,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in a debonair gesture. “And keeping you alive, Kates, is a bit higher up on my list than a late date with a pretty signorina.”
“Glad to know you care.” I smiled and, hesitating for just a second, stepped down from the doorway and gave him a good old American hug before turning to follow my sister.
TWENTY-TWO
I PEEKED INTO GEORGIA’S ROOM THE NEXT MORNING. She was sitting propped up in bed, flipping through a music magazine. Her hair was sticking straight out, and her regular peaches-and-cream complexion was verging on kiwi-and-stale-milk.
