Until I Die

laughed. “You are totally doing this on purpose to see if you can make me blush! It’s not going to happen!”
Vincent smiled victoriously and brushed my cheek with his finger. “Too late.”
I rolled my eyes as the bell-like sound of a spoon being tapped against a wineglass quieted the room. Ambrose switched the music off, and everyone turned to Jean-Baptiste, who stood before the crowd in all his noble stuffiness. From the portraits decorating the room, his clothing and hairstyle could be seen to evolve over the last 240 years, but his aristocratic demeanor hadn’t changed a bit.
“Welcome, dear kindred, revenants of Paris,” he announced to the forty-odd guests. “Thank you for joining us this evening in my humble abode.” There was a stir of movement and a swell of bemused laughter.
He smiled subtly and continued. “I would like to make a toast to our beloved departing kindred, Charles and Charlotte. You will be sorely missed, and we all hope for your expeditious return.” Everyone followed Jean-Baptiste in raising his glass, and as one chimed, “ Santé! ”
“Well, that’s a diplomatic way to put it, when he’s the one who sent them into exile!” I whispered to Vincent, and then glanced over at Charles, who was perched uncomfortably on an ancient upholstered settee on one side of the room. Since the day he had put his kindred at risk by handing himself over to the numa, his perpetual sour, sulking expression had been replaced by one of despair and depression. Gaspard sat beside him, lending emotional support.
Jean-Baptiste continued, “I’m sure we would all like to join the twins in the sunny south, but our work is cut out for us here in Paris. As you all know, ever since our human friend Kate”—he waved his glass in my direction and nodded politely at me—“dispatched so handily our enemies’ leader, Lucien, just over a month ago, the numa have maintained complete silence. Although we have remained at the ready, there has been no attempt at vengeance. No counterattack.
“And more worryingly there have also been absolutely no numa sightings by our kindred. They haven’t abandoned Paris. But the fact that they are avoiding us on such a thorough basis is so egregiously out of character for our old foes that we can only surmise that they have a plan. Which also means that they must have a leader.”
This was a revelation to the group in the room: Their patient expressions suddenly changed to looks of consternation. Whispering began among a few, but Vincent’s steady gaze toward the speaker told me that he was already privy to this information. Jean - Baptiste’s second , I thought with a mix of wonder and uneasiness. I couldn’t wait to get Vincent on his own so I could quiz him about it.
Jean-Baptiste silenced the discussions with more spoon clinking on his glass. “Kindred, please.” Once again, the room fell silent. “We all know that Nicolas was Lucien’s second. But surely, considering his short temper and love of ostentatious gestures, if he had taken over we would have heard something by now. Silence is our clue that someone else has assumed control. And if we don’t know who we are up against, or when and where their eventual attack will come from, how can we prepare our defense?”
The murmuring started back up. This time Jean-Baptiste’s raised voice quieted the crowd. “AND SO … in the face of a potential critical situation, we are honored to have the assistance of the person who knows more about our history and that of the numa than anyone else in this room. The person regarded as the most knowledgeable among our kindred in France, and an influential figure in our worldwide Consortium. She has offered to help us investigate the problem at hand and plan our strategy for self-defense, or—if necessary—a preemptive strike.
“Without further ado, I introduce to those of you who haven’t had the opportunity to make her acquaintance, Violette de Montauban and her companion, Arthur Poincaré. We are honored to have them join our house during the absence of Charlotte and Charles.”
From behind Jean-Baptiste stepped a couple I had never seen before. The girl’s snow-white complexion was set off by black hair that was pulled back from her face with a bunch of vivid purple flowers. She was tiny and fragile-looking, like a sparrow. And though she looked younger than me, I knew that for a revenant that didn’t mean a thing.
The boy moved in a distinctly old-fashioned