promise."
Charlotte leaned forward and threw her arms around Jean-Baptiste's neck, sobbing. "Shhh," he said, patting her back.
Once she had quieted he stood again and, addressing Ambrose and Jules, said, "When Gaspard can communicate, I will confer with him as to our plans. We must invite others to replace Charlotte and Charles during this hazardous time. You are welcome to make suggestions.
"And as for you, Kate," Jean-Baptiste said, turning to me. I sat stiffly in my chair, not knowing what would come next but steeling myself for the worst. He couldn't banish me; I didn't live under his roof. And he couldn't stop me from seeing Vincent; I would refuse. Although I had never felt physically weaker in my life, my will had never been stronger.
"We owe you our gratitude. You protected one of our kindred at the risk of your own life."
I sat there, stunned, and finally said, "But . . . how could I have done otherwise?"
"You could have taken your sister and run. Vincent was the one Lucien was after."
I shook my head. No, I couldn't have. I would have preferred to die myself than leave Vincent to his destruction.
"You have earned my trust," Jean-Baptiste concluded formally. "Henceforth, you are welcome here."
Jules spoke up. "She was already welcome here." Ambrose nodded his agreement.
Jean-Baptiste looked at them mildly. "You both know how I struggle to protect our group. And though I trust you all, I don't always trust your decisions. Has anyone else been allowed to bring a human lover into this house?"
The room was quiet.
"Well, this one is now given my official welcome."
"And it only took hacking off an evil zombie's head to earn it," Ambrose mumbled sarcastically.
Jean-Baptiste ignored him and continued. "However, I would appreciate it if you would find some way of explaining this to your sister that would prevent her from having access to all our secrets. And if you have the slightest suspicion that she is in contact with any of Lucien's associates, I would ask you to tell me immediately. In any case, she will not be allowed within the house again, for the security of all of us. I realize it was against her will, but her presence permitted the only security breach we have ever experienced within our gates."
I nodded, thinking about how Georgia had almost been the end of the story for me and Vincent . . . for us all. Chapter Forty
"OL锟?" PAPY SHOUTED, AS THE CORK LEFT THE bottle like a gunshot, causing all of us to jump and then cheer as he carefully poured the bubbly into tall, fluted glasses. He held his glass up in a toast, and the rest of us echoed his gesture.
"I would like to wish a happy seventeenth birthday to my princess, Kate. Here's hoping that seventeen will be a magic year for you!"
"Hear, hear!" piped up Mamie, clinking her glass against mine. "Oh, to be seventeen again," she sighed. "That was my age when I met your grandfather. Not that he seemed to pay any attention to me for the next year or so," she said in a manner that was almost flirty.
"It was all part of my plan," he retorted, winking at me. "And anyway, I've made up for lost time since then, haven't I?"
Mamie nodded and leaned over to give him an affectionate kiss before clinking his glass. I leaned over to touch glasses with Papy, and then turned to Georgia, who held her drink in her left hand, since her right was still in a cast.
"Happy birthday, Katie-Bean," she said, smiling warmly at me, and then looked down at the table, as if embarrassed. Georgia hadn't been the same since "the accident," as my grandparents called it. Though my wounds were easily hidden under winter clothes, Georgia had to explain the cast on her hand.
As she told it, she had stepped into the middle of a fight at the nightclub and had been knocked down and trampled. Papy and Mamie were so horrified that they had forbidden her to go to any more bars or clubs. Funnily enough, she didn't seem to mind, and spent her nights now comparatively quietly, going to dinner parties or the cinema with a small number of friends. Since that night, she had sworn off men, vehemently vowing that she could no longer trust her instincts, but I knew that wouldn't last for long.
She had come to my room a few times late at night, awaking me either for a cry or to