Until I Die - By Plum, Amy Page 0,26

of relief. “Can I sit here?” I asked, motioning to an armchair next to her. She smiled evenly and said, “Of course.”

“So . . .” I fished for a topic of conversation. “What have you and Arthur been doing for the last week?”

“We have been walking with the others—mainly Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard. They are introducing us to the territories of Paris. Arthur and I have been here before, but things have changed in the last century.”

Surreal conversation, I thought for the millionth time. Although I was starting to get used to it.

“Is it weird to be away from your home?” I asked.

“Yes. We have lived in Langeais for a few centuries, so it does feel quite odd to have such a drastic change to one’s routine. But, of course, it is for a good cause, helping Jean-Baptiste subdue the numa.”

She leaned in closer and spoke earnestly, as if what she was asking was important and confidential. “And you, Kate? How does it feel to be outside of the world you are used to—having fall en in with immortals? Do you ever wish you could go back to the normal life of a human girl?” I shook my head. “No. That life was over for me anyway. At least, that’s what it felt like. My parents died around a year ago. When I found Vincent”—or was it when he found me? I wondered—“I might as well have been dead too.”

“It is a strange choice for a beautiful, vibrant girl to spend her time with the undead.” She really did sound like an old lady at times. “I feel accepted here,” I said simply.

Raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, she nodded and then took my hand and squeezed it, in what felt like a gesture of solidarity. Girl-to-girl in a house full of men.

“Is everyone here?” Jean-Baptiste strode to the place of authority in front of the fire and looked around the room. “Good,” he said.

I felt someone touch my shoulder and looked up to see Vincent standing behind my chair. He gave me a sexy wink, and then fixed his attention on the older man.

“We all know about the drop-off in numa activity since Lucien’s death. It’s as if they’ve disappeared. But why? What could they be waiting for?”

“May I?” Gaspard asked, raising a trembling finger and facing us. “They’ve always been undisciplined in the past. Although Lucien was their leader, he could never seem to stop them from occasionally acting on individual initiatives. But, as we’ve mentioned, judging from their recent behavior, we suspect they may have a new leader—one who is actually able to keep them under control. And Violette has now confirmed that suspicion.” He waved a hand toward the revenant beside me, as if handing her the mic.

“I can not say that it is exactly ‘confirmed,’” Violette piped up. “But there have been rumors. My sources have mentioned a numa from overseas—

from America, more specifically—who has begun positioning himself as an international leader.” There were exclamations of surprise around the room. Ambrose spoke up. “I’ve never heard of something like this. I mean, we have our international Consortium, but the numa? I can’t even imagine it. It’s not in their nature to work together.” Violette nodded. “I agree that if it is true, it is unprecedented. But from what I have heard, the numa in question was a man of great power during his lifetime. People trusted him with their fortunes, and he deceived them all, sending many to ruin and several to suicide.”

“How did he die then?” I asked.

“Killed in prison,” she replied simply.

“So what’s this mean for us?” asked Jules. For once, his expression was serious.

Jean-Baptiste took the imaginary podium. “Violette has her sources, and we hope that they continue to feed her information. But we can begin to contact our kindred elsewhere to see if they have heard anything else on the matter.

“In the meantime, we should strengthen our defenses. Step up our surveillance. And, as I discussed with a couple of you, I am lifting the ban on offensive—” I felt Vincent’s body tense behind me, and as Jean-Baptiste’s eyes flitted to him, the older revenant stopped in the middle of his sentence, casting the room into an uncomfortable silence.

“May I interrupt at this point?” came a melodic voice from across the room. Everyone stared at its source. This was the first time I had heard Arthur speak: He was constantly brooding away in some corner, scribbling in a notebook. Everyone else seemed just