can breathe.
Suddenly I’m imagining myself in Vincent’s place, holding her warm body to me, nuzzling my face in her hair. And a jolt of emotion knocks me back a step. One look at their joy and my heart feels like it’s being pulled apart. Why am I so conflicted? I love Vincent like a brother. Being without the girl he loves has made him physically ill. So why does their reunion hurt so much?
That night, Kate stays at La Maison. Spends the night in Vincent’s room. Sleeps in his arms.
And something happens to me that has never happened before. I feel the acid burn of jealousy and it overwhelms me. I leave the house, jog the half-hour trek to my studio, and lose myself in my painting.
She wants to be with him, not with me. She thinks I’m a joke. A flirt. Of course—that’s what I’ve led her to believe. But she doesn’t see through it, like something in me hoped she would.
My feelings for her are laughable. Ineffectual. Never meant to be. So why am I cursed with them? Why can’t I forget about her? I have sacrificed my very existence to the whims and desires of fate. I am fate’s slave, and yet it is mocking me.
I look in despair at the mess I’ve made on the canvas, and sit on the ground, my head in my hands. I must get control of myself. If things continue as they have started, this girl is going to be a part of my life. A part of our clan’s life. And I have to learn to deal with it without showing my feelings. I have to get over her. I take my phone out of my pocket and call the first number that comes up: Evelynn.
“Hello, bella . I know it’s been a long time, but would you happen to have a pot of tea for a poor, lonely artist?”
I go to the only thing that I know will make me feel better. Another woman’s embrace.
ELEVEN
“ CHARLES WAS WITH LUCIEN !” VINCENT SAYS AS he bursts into the kitchen, where JB and Gaspard are having a rare dinner with the rest of us instead of eating alone. Jeanne laid out the good china for the occasion, and left us with a feast of cochon de lait , an entire roasted suckling pig that would normally feed a dozen people, but with Ambrose eating for six, will only last the night.
Everyone stops eating and stares at Vincent. “What did you say?” JB asks in a strained voice. “I just came from dinner with Kate’s family. And she saw Charles with Lucien the other night. They were talking outside of the nightclub.”
Charlotte raises her hands to her mouth, and moans, “Oh no.” I scoot over and put my arm around her. But I know what she’s thinking: Charles has finally done it. He’s asked the numa to destroy him. I’m overwhelmed both by sadness that Charles’s depression has led him this far, and anger at the thought of a numa blade severing his neck.
“But there’s not only that,” Vincent says. “Kate’s sister is apparently seeing Lucien. As in, romantically.”
“What?” Ambrose roars, banging his knife handle on the table.
“Of course, she doesn’t know who he is. Or what he is,” Vincent says. “And he has obviously discovered our link with Kate’s family.”
Charlotte starts crying, and I pull her in toward me so that she’s sobbing into my chest. My eyes meet JB’s.
“I’m ordering an immediate general alert,” he says, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and rising from his chair. “We’ll have the entirety of our Paris kindred out on the street looking for him. I promise, Charlotte. We’ll find your brother.”
But we find no trace of Charles or the numa, and two days later Lucien calls with an ultimatum. He has killed Charles and left his body in the Catacombs. If we don’t come get it that night, he will wait until Charles is volant and destroy his body, damning Charles to eternal disembodiment.
We know it’s a trap. But we go anyway. And although we manage to kill a few numa and rescue Charles’s body, Lucien uses the setup to act upon an even more diabolical scheme. He uses Kate’s sister to get into La
Suddenly I’m imagining myself in Vincent’s place, holding her warm body to me, nuzzling my face in her hair. And a jolt of emotion knocks me back a step. One look at their joy and my heart feels like it’s being pulled apart. Why am I so conflicted? I love Vincent like a brother. Being without the girl he loves has made him physically ill. So why does their reunion hurt so much?
That night, Kate stays at La Maison. Spends the night in Vincent’s room. Sleeps in his arms.
And something happens to me that has never happened before. I feel the acid burn of jealousy and it overwhelms me. I leave the house, jog the half-hour trek to my studio, and lose myself in my painting.
She wants to be with him, not with me. She thinks I’m a joke. A flirt. Of course—that’s what I’ve led her to believe. But she doesn’t see through it, like something in me hoped she would.
My feelings for her are laughable. Ineffectual. Never meant to be. So why am I cursed with them? Why can’t I forget about her? I have sacrificed my very existence to the whims and desires of fate. I am fate’s slave, and yet it is mocking me.
I look in despair at the mess I’ve made on the canvas, and sit on the ground, my head in my hands. I must get control of myself. If things continue as they have started, this girl is going to be a part of my life. A part of our clan’s life. And I have to learn to deal with it without showing my feelings. I have to get over her. I take my phone out of my pocket and call the first number that comes up: Evelynn.
“Hello, bella . I know it’s been a long time, but would you happen to have a pot of tea for a poor, lonely artist?”
I go to the only thing that I know will make me feel better. Another woman’s embrace.
ELEVEN
“ CHARLES WAS WITH LUCIEN !” VINCENT SAYS AS he bursts into the kitchen, where JB and Gaspard are having a rare dinner with the rest of us instead of eating alone. Jeanne laid out the good china for the occasion, and left us with a feast of cochon de lait , an entire roasted suckling pig that would normally feed a dozen people, but with Ambrose eating for six, will only last the night.
Everyone stops eating and stares at Vincent. “What did you say?” JB asks in a strained voice. “I just came from dinner with Kate’s family. And she saw Charles with Lucien the other night. They were talking outside of the nightclub.”
Charlotte raises her hands to her mouth, and moans, “Oh no.” I scoot over and put my arm around her. But I know what she’s thinking: Charles has finally done it. He’s asked the numa to destroy him. I’m overwhelmed both by sadness that Charles’s depression has led him this far, and anger at the thought of a numa blade severing his neck.
“But there’s not only that,” Vincent says. “Kate’s sister is apparently seeing Lucien. As in, romantically.”
“What?” Ambrose roars, banging his knife handle on the table.
“Of course, she doesn’t know who he is. Or what he is,” Vincent says. “And he has obviously discovered our link with Kate’s family.”
Charlotte starts crying, and I pull her in toward me so that she’s sobbing into my chest. My eyes meet JB’s.
“I’m ordering an immediate general alert,” he says, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and rising from his chair. “We’ll have the entirety of our Paris kindred out on the street looking for him. I promise, Charlotte. We’ll find your brother.”
But we find no trace of Charles or the numa, and two days later Lucien calls with an ultimatum. He has killed Charles and left his body in the Catacombs. If we don’t come get it that night, he will wait until Charles is volant and destroy his body, damning Charles to eternal disembodiment.
We know it’s a trap. But we go anyway. And although we manage to kill a few numa and rescue Charles’s body, Lucien uses the setup to act upon an even more diabolical scheme. He uses Kate’s sister to get into La
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