a sliding glass door to step out onto an enormous wood terrace balanced high above the ground and facing the sea. We were practically overhanging the ocean. The twinkling lights of the town of Villefranche-sur-Mer stretched out beneath us, wrapped around a U-shaped harbor with a battalion of luxury yachts moored offshore.
“I can’t believe you’re living here,” I said to Charlotte, who leaned against the waist-high guardrail beside me. “It’s like you’ve got front-row seats to the most beautiful place on earth!”
“I know!” she replied, looking out toward the sea. “It’s like living in a dream. I shouldn’t complain about being away from home. It’s just that I miss everyone.”
“Well, we’re here to cheer you up,” I said, wrapping my arm comfortingly around her and realizing with a sharp poignancy how much I had missed having her around. Violette was a fun friend to go out with. But we hadn’t connected the way Charlotte and I had. With Violette, friendship was an effort. With Charlotte it was the most natural thing in the world.
We ate dinner in a glass-enclosed dining room adjacent to the terrace, our chairs arranged in a half circle before the spectacular view.
“So, tell me about Charles,” Charlotte said as soon as we sat down.
“He’s doing well, Charlotte.” Vincent’s voice was both comforting and honest. “Apparently, he met someone from Berlin a few years ago at a convocation and decided to look him up.”
“Hey, I remember that guy. Charles was fascinated by him. He was kind of … punk. Blue hair and lots of piercings.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, they all look like that in that particular clan.”
“Charles, too?” Charlotte’s eyes were wide.
He laughed. “It actually kind of suits him.”
“What!” Charlotte gasped. “Did you get a picture?”
“No, I was kind of too busy carrying out a mission for Jean-Baptiste to photograph Charles’s hair.”
“We don’t care about his hair,” Geneviève said, laughing. “Tell us how he is. What he’s doing there. When he’s coming back.”
“See, this is why I think he’s in exactly the right place.” Vincent leaned forward, speaking eagerly. “That particular clan in Berlin is made up of young revenants, who at some point all became disillusioned with our mission. Bitter about our fate. The place is like an undead Alcoholics Anonymous. They have meetings all the time where they talk about their feelings.
“And their leader is really motivational. Always going on about how revenants fit into the whole cycle of life. That we’re angels of mercy, allowing humans who haven’t lived out their destiny to survive until they can. So when Charles and his kindred walk, it’s like they’re truly on a mission. They’re so psyched about it … it’s really amazing to see.”
Charlotte was closing her eyes as she listened, imagining it. When Vincent finished, she gave a rueful smile. “I can’t even tell you how good it is to hear you say that. It’s been awful not knowing where he was or what he was doing,” she said. “He never really recovered from his depression after the whole thing with Lucien, and I was afraid that he was going to do the same thing again: find some numa to destroy him. But I figured he had intentionally gone somewhere far away this time, where it wouldn’t put the rest of us in danger.”
Geneviève spoke up. “Maybe our little group is too tight for him in Paris. He didn’t have room to grow—to find himself. It is pretty intense living with the same people for decades.”
“You’re right,” said Charlotte. “Being on his own is obviously what he needs right now. But … do you think he’ll come back?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Vincent said.
There was a minute’s thoughtful silence, and then I asked, “How are you, Geneviève?”
“I’m taking it one day at a time,” she responded, her eyes losing their sparkle. “Charlotte does a good job distracting me. It would have been hellish to have stayed in Philippe’s and my house in Paris. The new scene is good for me, and we’re close to Nice, where a group of around a dozen of our kind have been living for a while.”
“Anyone interesting in the group?” I teased Charlotte.
She shook her head. “Interesting friend-wise, but no one special. My feelings haven’t changed.” She glanced quickly at Vincent, who looked away as if to give us some privacy.
We talked into the night until I could barely keep my eyes open. “Sorry, I’m beat. I know you guys will be up all night but I, for one, need