Die for Me

Georgia stared me down for a moment and then snapped, “Fine. If you don’t want to tell me about him, that’s okay. You don’t know much about my life either, but it’s not for my lack of trying to include you. I’ve stopped asking you out because I know you’ll say no.”

“Okay, Georgia. Who are you seeing?”

My sister shook her head. “I don’t give you information if you don’t give me any either.”

I reached out for her hand and pled, “Georgia, I’m not intentionally trying to exclude you from my life. You know I’ve a hard time with . . . well, everything. But I’m finally getting back on my feet, and I promise to make more of an effort.”

“Then you’ll come out with me this weekend?”

I paused. “Okay.”

“With Vincent?”

“Um . . .”

Georgia shot me a look that said, See?

“Okay, okay. We’ll go out with Vincent. But not clubbing, Georgia, please.”

Georgia’s black mood transformed instantly, and she bounced gleefully on my bed. “No club. Fine. How about a restaurant?”

“Sure. I’ll check to see if he’s around.” More like, if he’s alive.

“Call him now.”

“Some privacy, please?”

“Okay,” Georgia conceded, leaning over and giving me a kiss on my forehead. She walked to the door, and then turned. “Thanks, sis. Really. It’ll be good to have you back.”

The streetlights were just coming on as we walked up to the subway station. Vincent and Ambrose, who had been leaning back against the magazine kiosk and chatting, straightened up when they saw us. My heart melted into a soppy mess as Vincent walked up and kissed my cheeks, and then, turning to Georgia, gave her his most dashing smile. “And you must be Kate’s legal guardian . . . I mean, sister. Georgia, right?”

Georgia laughed and exclaimed flirtatiously, “Well, just look at you! Katie sure knows how to choose ’em!” She looked like she wanted to stay right there all night, staring into his eyes.

“Georgia!” I exclaimed, shaking my head.

Ignoring me, Georgia looked over Vincent’s shoulder at Ambrose and gave him a flirty wink. “Don’t worry, Katie-Bean. Looks like Vincent has brought someone along to keep me busy. And you would be . . .”

“Ambrose. Enchanted to meet Kate’s lovely sister,” he said in French, giving me a sideways glance. I understood. If she knew he was American, she’d start asking questions. Maybe too many questions, although I was sure he was used to making up cover stories. “So where are you taking us, ladies?”

“I thought we’d go to a little restaurant I know in the fourteenth arrondissement,” she said.

Vincent and Ambrose gave each other a fleeting look, just as Georgia’s phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, and turned to answer the call.

“Not our favorite neighborhood,” said Ambrose in a low voice.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s kind of ‘their’ turf. You know, those people I was telling you about. The ‘other team,’” Vincent said, glancing up to make sure Georgia hadn’t heard.

“What can they do to us outside, in a busy neighborhood, with two humans along?” asked Ambrose. He stared off into space for a second and then nodded his head and turned to me. “Jules said to tell you, ‘Hi, beautiful.’”

“Hey, watch it!” Vincent said.

“He says, ‘Whatcha going to do about it?’” Ambrose said, poking Vincent.

“Jules is volant . . . here? Right now?” I said in amazement.

“Yeah,” Vincent said. “We’re not on official business tonight, of course, but he insisted on coming along. Said he didn’t want to miss out on all the fun.”

“Can I talk to him?” I asked.

“When we’re volant we can be heard only by other revenants—not humans. So Jules can hear what you say out loud, but he can only respond through me or Ambrose,” Vincent said. “But you’ll want to be careful.” He gestured toward Georgia, who was getting off the phone.

“Too bad,” she said. “I had a couple of friends who were going to join us, but they’re not able to come.”

“Shall we?” asked Ambrose, holding his arm out formally for Georgia to take. She laughed delightedly, draping her arm through his, and they headed down the stairs.

Once they were out of earshot I said, “Hi, Jules!”

Vincent laughed and said, “Looks like someone’s got a bit of a crush.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Jules wants me to tell you that it’s a shame you have to fall for someone as boring as myself. He wishes he could take my place and show you how well an older man can treat a lady.” He talked back to the air. “Yeah, right, buddy. What are you, like twenty-seven years older than me? Well, at the moment we’re both nineteen, so back off.”

I did a quick mental calculation. Jules had told me he was born at the end of the nineteenth century. So Vincent must have been born in the 1920s. I smiled as I pocketed that information for later. If Vincent wouldn’t tell me anything, maybe I could figure some of it out for myself.

We got out of the subway near the sprawling Montparnasse Cemetery and walked up a pedestrian-only street that was packed with bars and cafés. We stopped in front of a restaurant that had a crowd of about twenty people standing around outside. “This is it!” Georgia said enthusiastically.

“Georgia, look how many people are waiting. It’ll take forever before we can get a table.”

“Have some faith in your big sis,” she said. “A friend of mine works here. I bet I can get us a table right away.”

“Go ahead. We’ll wait for you out here,” I said, leading Vincent and Ambrose across the street and out of the crowd. We leaned up against a closed shop front and watched as Georgia worked her way through the swarm of people.

“Your description of her was right on the nose.” Vincent smiled as he put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder affectionately.

“My sister, the phenomenon,” I said, enjoying the hug.

Ambrose stood on the other side of me, watching the crowd and nodding to some rhythm in his head, when suddenly he stopped and looked hard at Vincent. “Vin, Jules said he sees the Man in the neighborhood. Just a few blocks away.”

“Does he know we’re here?” Vincent asked.

Ambrose shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Vincent pulled his arm away and said, “Kate, we’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

“But Georgia!” I said, looking toward the glass door. I could see my sister inside, chatting with the hostess.

“I’ll get her,” said Vincent, and began pushing his way through the crowd.

Just then, two men who had been walking past bumped hard into Ambrose, pushing him violently against the wall. He groaned and tried to grab for them, but the men dodged him and walked quickly away as he slumped to the ground.

“Hey! Stop!” I shouted at them, as they turned a corner. “Someone stop them!” I yelled at the crowd of people across the street. People turned and looked in the direction I was pointing, but the men had disappeared from view. The whole thing had happened so quickly that no one had even noticed.

“Vincent!” I called over the crowd. Vincent turned and, seeing my alarm, began to work his way back to me.

“Ambrose, are you okay?” I said, squatting down next to him. “Did that guy . . . ,” I began, but stopped, seeing that his shirt was ripped from his neck to his chest and drenched in blood. He wasn’t moving.

Oh, please help him not be dead, I thought.

I had seen more violence in the last year than I had in my entire life. I asked, not for the first time, Why me? Teenage girls aren’t supposed to be on such familiar terms with mortality, I reasoned bitterly, while a feeling of panic rose from the pit of my stomach. I knelt next to his motionless form. “Ambrose, can you hear me?”

Someone began walking over to us from the crowd. “Hey, is he okay?”

Just then Ambrose shuddered and, leaning forward on both hands, began lifting himself off the ground. As he rose, he closed his jacket, effectively hiding the blood on his shirt, although there was already a pretty big puddle on the ground. “Oh my God, Ambrose, what happened?” I asked. I put out an arm to support him, and he leaned heavily on me.