Die for Me

Charlotte listened, then said, “Vincent says that he’s been studying up since then. That it’s rare but has been reported in cases where a human and a revenant have been together for years and years. Geneviève is the only revenant we know like that. And her husband can get impressions of what she wants, but he can’t actually hear words.”

“But we’ve been together for weeks, not years,” I said doubtfully. “How can it work for us?”

“He says he has no clue, but wants to try again,” Charlotte said excitedly.

“Okay,” I said, walking over to the bed.

“No, come over here,” Charlotte said. “It will just distract you to look at his body. He says to close your eyes and block everything else out. Like you do at museums.” I smiled as I remembered the art-induced trance he had spotted me in at the Musée Picasso. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, letting the room’s tranquillity permeate my body. Slowly I began to feel the same sensation I had before. Of someone trying to write letters in my mind.

“What are you hearing?” she asked me.

“I’m not hearing anything. I’m kind of seeing something . . . like someone is writing words.”

“He says you’re trying to visualize. Stop using your i

I concentrated, and began to hear a kind of swishing noise, like the wind through leaves, or a kind of static.

“He says to stop trying so hard and just be,” said Charlotte.

I relaxed, and the static turned into a rustling noise like a plastic bag being blown around in a breeze. And then I heard it. Pont des Arts.

“Pont des Arts?” I said out loud.

“You mean, the bridge crossing the Seine?” Charlotte asked, confused, and then nodded. “Vincent says it was the site of a very important event.”

I laughed. “Um, yeah. That would be the first time we kissed.”

Charlotte’s sad face brightened. “Oh my God. I always knew Vincent would be terribly romantic once he found the right person.” She leaned back onto the couch, lacing her hands over her heart. “You’re so lucky, Kate.”

We practiced our undead-to-human communication skills for the next half hour, with Charlotte bending over in laughter at my off-the-mark answers and Vincent’s silly exercises.

“Fight off the . . . lint in bed?” I asked, confused.

“No, Night of the Living Dead!” Charlotte roared with laughter.

Finally I was getting most of the phrases right, although I still couldn’t hear a voice that sounded like Vincent’s pronouncing them. It was more like words popping out of the blue. And only a few words at a time.

“Go get lunch?” I asked finally.

“Right! That’s good! Vincent says it’s time for a lunch break, and that Jea

When we got to the kitchen, Jules and Ambrose were tucking into a lunch of roast chicken and fries, and Jea

“Hey, guys, Vincent can talk to Kate. You know . . . while he’s volant,” Charlotte said with a smug look on her face.

Everyone froze and stared at me, but after a second Jea

“That’s impossible!” exclaimed Ambrose in amazement, and to the air said, “No way, Vincent!”

“Not exactly impossible,” Jules replied. “Vincent told me he had been studying Gaspard’s records for examples of revenant-human relationships and had found a few unsubstantiated accounts of communication.”

“I know,” Ambrose replied. “He told me that too. But those were just rumors—freak stories. Trust Vincent to push the envelope and try it out for himself.”

Curious, I asked, “What other kind of ‘unsubstantiated rumors’ are out there? Anything I should know about?”

Ambrose popped a french fry into his mouth and chewed with a sly smile. “You think of all the scary ghost stories, Katie-Lou, all the weird old wives’ tales, all the fairy tales you’ve ever heard, and then remember . . . they all started with a kernel—or maybe just a grain—of something true. Just be glad you didn’t fall for a vampire.” He shoved another fry in his mouth and then stood, stretching his impressive pecs and biceps, and said, “Jules . . . wa

Jules wiped his mouth with his napkin and then stood, carrying his plate to the sink. “Thanks, Jea

Will you be lonely? The words popped into my head. I smiled.

“No, you go on with the boys. It looks like they could use a babysitter,” I replied with a smirk.

“No way . . . he just talked to you right then?” Ambrose said, mouth agape.

I nodded and smiled.

“Lucky man,” Jules said to me, leaning over to kiss my cheeks. “What I wouldn’t give to be in your head.” Instead of the usual quick air-kisses, he took his time kissing both of my cheeks tenderly.

“Jules!” I gasped, feeling myself blush.

He stood, looking up in space, and raised both arms as if in surrender. “Okay, okay, man. Hands off, I get it! But it’s not often we get a young pretty human in the house. In fact, it’s never.” He turned to go, and then looked back over his shoulder at me. “Bye, Kates, and just remember . . . I’m completely available for the next couple of days while Vincent is otherwise indisposed.” He winked. My face burning, I turned away, studiously ignoring him as he left the room.

“What was that about?” asked Charlotte curiously.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” I groaned.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“ARE YOU STAYING FOR DINNER?” JEANNE ASKED as Charlotte and I left the kitchen.

“Actually, I hadn’t thought about it, but it would be nice to see Vincent—I mean, hear Vincent”—I paused, shaking my head at the weirdness of what I had just said—“when the guys get back. Yes, I’ll stay, thanks!”

She nodded, satisfied, and got back to her bustling. We left the kitchen and headed down the hallway.

“I’m going to study, Charlotte,” I said, opening the door to Vincent’s room.

“Okay,” she said lightly. “But if hanging around a dead guy proves to be too distracting, feel free to use the library upstairs. Or my room. I’ll be downstairs working out.”

“Do you do the weapons thing too?” I asked.

She nodded proudly and said, “The guys have more upper-body strength than me, but I’m faster and smaller, so even though I can handle a sword as well as the rest of them, I focus more on karate.”

“Wow. Respect!” I said.

“Wa

“No, no. I’ll study in Vincent’s room. It kind of feels comforting having him near,” I said. “Even if he’s not . . . near. Which reminds me. He can’t be in two places at once, can he?”

“Nope, he won’t be spying on you while he’s out walking with the guys. Unless he leaves them to come home. Which he won’t.” She squeezed my hand in hers before heading back down the hallway and disappearing down the stairs.

I called Mamie to let her know I wouldn’t be home for di

I spent the afternoon studying World War I, which seemed more interesting now that I knew someone who had fought in it. The hours passed quickly, and I switched over to English literature, which, I have to admit, seemed more like pleasure than work.