Die Once More by Amy Plum Page B

“How can I resist?”
    Kate smiles and puts her arm around me, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk together toward the door.

NINE
    DINNER IN THE KITCHEN—IT ’ S JUST LIKE OLD times. Jeanne bustles between the stove and table, bringing course after delicious course, and Ambrose inhales everything like an industrial-size vacuum cleaner. Charlotte sits next to him, so close that her body is practically fused to his, chatting away in English to Ava, who has proven once again to be the star of the show. In less than an hour, she’s got everyone at La Maison wrapped around her finger.
    Gaspard and Jean-Baptiste always took their meals upstairs, but now that his partner is gone, Gaspard seems to have decided to join the rest of the group. He looks distinctly awkward, struggling to understand Faust’s strong New York accent as he quizzes the young bardia about New York’s kindred. There is a sadness about Gaspard that is hard to watch. He’s lost weight, and his hyper quirkiness has mellowed with his grief. But since he is here, eating with the rest of the house, it means he is trying.He’s making an effort to carry on. I can’t imagine losing someone you’ve loved for over a century and a half. Up until recently, I couldn’t even imagine loving someone at all.
    At Gaspard’s side, Kate is radiant inside this warm circle of conversation and companionship. She belongs here—it is evident. My eyes sweep the table and meet Ava’s. She glances back and forth between me and Kate, and I can see her catching on, and suddenly I’m choking on the chicken I was trying to swallow. Ava gets this amused look and turns back to her conversation with Charlotte.
    Ambrose pats me on the back. “You got to chew, dude.”
    â€œYou’re one to talk—human shovel,” I reply, taking a quick sip of water.
    â€œNeed the calories. Wedding prep is taking more out of me than fighting numa ever did,” he says. Charlotte nudges him, and then gives him a kiss on the cheek. Kate sees it and takes Vincent’s hand under the table. Love is freaking everywhere. I clear my throat.
    â€œSo, Gaspard, when is Bran coming?” I ask in English, so that our guests can follow along. “Gold specifically wanted Ava to meet with him.”
    â€œAh, you see, there’s a bit of a problem with that,” Gaspard replies. “The mother of Bran’s sons is indisposed. I believe she is in the hospital—nothing too serious, fortunately. But Bran must care for his children and won’t be coming to the wedding.”
    â€œThen we have to go to him!” Ava blurts out.
    Gaspard places his hand on hers. “That is the plan, my dear.Bran has invited you to visit him in Brittany this weekend.”
    â€œHow do I get there?” she asks. This change in plans seems to set her on edge: She’s squeezing her fork so tightly that her knuckles are white.
    â€œThe easiest way is by car. I would be happy to accompany you, but with all the wedding preparations, I’m afraid—”
    â€œI’ll take her,” I say, cutting Gaspard off. Ava stares at me in surprise. “Gold wanted me to be your French tour guide,” I explain, even though that’s not really the reason. I’m not really sure why I’m offering—it has something to do with her panic and the feeling that I need to do something to help.
    â€œYes, of course, that would be best,” Gaspard says.
    â€œFaust can be our third,” Ava adds quickly.
    â€œNo can do,” Faust says. “I’ll be sleeping the sleep of the dead.”
    â€œYou’re dormant this weekend?” Ava asks, accusation in her tone.
    â€œHey, I was awake to accompany you on the plane,” Faust says with a shrug, “and I’ll be awake again for the wedding and the trip home. You can find another third for the trip to Brittany, right?”
    â€œDon’t worry