I Should Die

numa must make to successfully perform a binding.” Gaspard grimaced.
    “Extreme personal sacrifice?” I asked, something catching in my throat. His revolted expression was creeping me out.
    He was silent for a few unnerving seconds, choosing his words, and said, “They must incinerate a part of themselves with the body of the one they are binding.”
    “What do you mean? Like their hair or fingernails?” My nose wrinkled in disgust.
    “No, it must be flesh and bone,” Gaspard said.
    Eww , I thought, recoiling from the grotesque image this brought to mind.
    “That’s not much of a sacrifice,” Ambrose said from next to me. “Whatever Violette lops off, it’s just going to grow back next time she’s dormant.”
    The older revenant shook his head. “Besides the pain involved in the ‘lopping,’ as you put it, that is the sacrifice: The body part of the numa burned with the revenant corpse disappears forever. In the case of a binding, there is no regeneration.”
    I leaned closer to Ambrose, fighting the sickened numbness that spread through me. Violette was going to sever a part of her own body in order to bind Vincent’s spirit? I knew she had killed him to get his powers. But permanently mutilating herself? Centuries of serving a fate she didn’t choose seemed to have cost the ancient revenant her sanity.
    “I’ll ask him for you,” said Ambrose under his breath, and then speaking up said, “Jules wants to know if being bound to Violette means Vincent must obey her.”
    I hadn’t been aware that Jules was with us until then, but knowing he was near, I felt comforted. “If the only reason Violette needs Vincent’s spirit is for transfer of the Champion’s power,” Gaspard responded, “we can hope she will release him once she achieves her goal. But even if she chooses to keep him bound, a wandering soul cannot be forced to act against its will.”
    Arthur spoke up. “I beg to disagree,” he said apologetically. “There are historical examples of coercion.”
    “For example?” Jean-Baptiste insisted.
    “There is the account from our Italian kindred that dates back to the Renaissance,” Arthur stated. “A numa chief killed a newly formed bardia and bound her volant spirit to him by incinerating his left hand with her corpse. He manipulated her into serving his will by threatening to kill her still-living human family, and became extremely powerful through the strength of his spirit-slave.”
    “Then it’s a good thing that Vin doesn’t have any human family left,” said Ambrose with a note of triumph. “No mortal bargaining chips for our Evil Empress to use against . . .” Realizing what he was saying, he stopped talking and lowered his face to his hands.
    He didn’t even look at me. He didn’t have to. Because everyone else was.

THREE
    “VIOLETTE USING . . . A HUMAN WHO IS DEAR TO him”—Gaspard avoided my eyes—“to blackmail Vincent is, as one would say in modern parlance, quite a long shot. She may not be aware of this ancient story. And even if she is, once she absorbs his power I doubt she will need the servitude of a much-weakened revenant spirit.”
    His words were meant to comfort me. And they did, to an extent. What he said was rational. But Violette had already used me once to get to Vincent. The thought that she might use me again—this time forcing Vincent to act against his will—was unbearable.
    Jean-Baptiste turned to address the crowd. His ramrod-straight posture, chest puffed out and hands behind his back, recalled the Napoleonic military leader he had been centuries earlier. “That’s enough talk of hypothetical situations. One of our kindred—my very own second—has been corporeally destroyed. We must act now to save his spirit and to stop Violette from achieving her plans.”
    With that, he began organizing everyone. Arthur was appointed to lead a contingent to Violette’s castle in Langeais. He had lived there for centuries, and could effectively hide a group of spies to keep tabs on Violette’s movements. Since Jules was volant, he was to accompany them, enter the castle, and try to contact Vincent’s spirit. And Ambrose was placed in charge of defensive strategy against the numa remaining in Paris. “To begin,” JB asked him, “could you please see Kate safely home?”
    “Home?” I leapt from the couch to face the revenant leader. “No! I want to help. There has to be something I can do.”
    Jean-Baptiste read my expression.