Until I Die - By Plum, Amy Page 0,15

me a heart attack sneaking up on me like that!” I pressed my chest with my hand as if that could still its frantic beating.

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you,” he said frostily. “I wouldn’t have even known where you were if Gaspard weren’t volant. He returned to get me after following you here. You could have been in serious danger.”

Even though Vincent couldn’t have known how unnerved I’d been by the man in the fur coat just moments ago, my fear transformed to anger in a split second. “Danger? Here? In broad daylight? From what? Psycho Jim Morrison fans? Falling tombstones?”

“From numa.”

“Oh, please, Vincent. We’re in the middle of a major tourist site. Père Lachaise is practically Disneyland for the Dead. It’s not some Buffy soundstage with vampires rising out of the ground every time someone turns around.”

“Kate, we are on high alert right now. No one knows where the numa are or what they’re up to. This would be exactly the type of event that they would jump at to attack us. Dozens of revenants in one place at one time? It would be their dream situation. That’s why we all came armed.” He held aside his coat to show me a sword at his waist and knives strapped to his thighs.

That shut me up.

“Why did you go wandering off by yourself?” The fear having left his voice, his expression now showed unsettled confusion.

I stared at him for a moment, and then glanced at the statues next to us—the tragic lovers lying side by side. Vincent turned to see what I was looking at, and comprehension dawned on his face. He closed his eyes as if to block out the image.

“I had to leave the funeral, Vincent. I couldn’t take it,” I began to explain. But the sorrow and the rain and cold and fright all seemed to gang up on me at once, and my words stuck in my throat.

“I understand,” he said, putting his arm around me and pulling me away from the tomb. He turned me to face him. “It’s freezing and you’re drenched. Let’s get out of here.”

I couldn’t help but peer over my shoulder as we left. There was no trace of the cloaked man—he was long gone—but now that Vincent had mentioned numa, it made me wonder why I had had such a strong reaction to the man’s appearance. Could a numa have been following me through the graveyard?

It didn’t matter now, I decided, and would only freak Vincent out if I said something about it. I put it out of my mind, and pulled my boyfriend closer.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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SIX

BEFORE MEETING VINCENT, MY DAYS ALL SEEMED to speed by like one of those passage-of-time visual metaphors in movies that show pages falling off a calendar. But lately, every day seemed significant: The first time Vincent met my grandparents. The first movie date ( Holy Grail. They all stared at us as if the park was a circus and we were its freak-show headliners, and a few laughed out loud. Vincent said, “I hope you don’t mind spectators,” and then leaned forward and took my face in his hands, kissing me.

“I think I can deal.” I grinned, and then shivered as he let me go.

“We’ll make it a speed-picnic,” he promised, unwinding his scarf and double-wrapping it above my own.

We munched on croissants that were baked exactly how I love them: crunchy on the outside, light as air inside, with an inner core of doughiness.

The café au lait was hot enough to warm my insides, and I sipped the supersweet freshly squeezed orange juice while Vincent caught me up on the news of how Charles and Charlotte were settling in the south. “We were talking about a road trip to take them more boxes, but JB claims he needs me here,” Vincent complained, popping the end of his croissant into his mouth.

“Sucks being JB’s second.”

“Oh, so you know about that?” he asked, amused. “Have my kindred been talking about me behind my back?”

“Yeah, Jules said something about it the other day. Right before he told me you were some sort of champion. Which I’ve actually been dying to ask you about.” I eagerly leaned forward on my elbows, watching as Vincent’s expression turned to one of dismay.

He covered his eyes with his hand. “Here we go again,” he moaned.

“What’s that mean?” I asked, intrigued by his reaction.

He leaned back until he was lying down on the blanket and addressed the winter