dark cave of my bedroom, telling Mamie I was "hibernating" for the weekend. She understood, and after leaving a platter set with water, tea, fruit, and an assortment of cheese and crackers on my dresser, she left me alone.
I spent the rest of my day in someone else's story. The rare moments that I put the book down, my own pain returned in burning stabs. I felt like a circus knife thrower's target. If I held my mind immobile, I might avoid being hit by the blades whizzing by my head. From time to time I fell asleep, but was immediately awakened by dark, tortured dreams that, once I awoke, dissolved without a trace.
I couldn't help looking over my shoulder at times, wondering if I might see Vincent lurking in the shadows. Does he come to see me when he's volant? I wondered. He could be floating around my bedroom for all I knew. Or maybe not. Maybe it was a case of "out of sight, out of mind" for him, and my outburst had been effective enough to stop him from trying to see me again. That was what I wanted, I told myself. Wasn't it?
If I let myself think, that would be the end. So I disconnected my brain and let my body carry on without a mind to steer it. All in all, it seemed like I was pulling it off. I could live without him. I was self-contained. Self-sufficient. Maybe I wasn't happy, but I wasn't sad. I was just . . . there.
School was a welcome relief. It helped the days pass by in numb monotony. Finally, returning home one day, I realized in a rare jolt of clarity that it had barely been two weeks since I had left Vincent standing in his doorway. It had felt like months. I had been congratulating myself for completing a marathon when I was hardly past the starting line.
As I climbed the M锟?ro steps onto my street, I was surprised to see a familiar figure leaning against a nearby phone booth. It was Charlotte. When she spotted me, her pretty face lit up. "Kate!" she cried, skipping up and leaning forward to kiss me on both cheeks.
"Charlotte. What a surprise!" I smiled, glancing around curiously to see if she was with someone else.
"Waiting for Charles. And here he is," she said, her eyes fixing on the subway stairs behind me.
Charles walked up, all his limbs intact, looking healthier than ever but in a much fouler humor. He scowled when he saw me. "What's the human doing here?" he asked.
"Um, I have a name. And to answer your question, I live here," I responded defensively. "You're not the only person in Paris who uses the rue du Bac M锟?ro."
"No, I mean, what are you doing here with Charlotte?"
"I just ran into her. Accidentally." Why am I making excuses to this obnoxious adolescent? I wondered, annoyed with myself.
"I thought that since you ditched Vincent, we'd never see you again."
"Well," I said, pasting a fake smile across my face, "here I am. So, Charlotte, it was nice to see you. Gotta go."
I turned to walk away, but Charles shouted after me. "You just can't get enough of us dead guys, huh? What do you want now? You want us to save your life again? Or are you going to lead us into a death trap like you did Ambrose?"
"What are you talking about?" I yelled, spinning to face him.
"Nothing. I'm talking about nothing. Just forget I ever said a word," he spat. Thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets, he turned and stalked off.
Charlotte looked at me apologetically.
"What was that about? What did I do?" I gasped.
"Nothing, Kate. You didn't do anything. Don't worry, it's all Charles's problem."
"Well then, why did he attack me like that?" I was still motionless with shock.
"Hey, do you want to walk down to the river?" she asked, ignoring my question. "I was kind of hoping I'd run across you at some point, seeing we're neighbors and all. Not that I haven't seen you around, of course. I just didn't feel like it was appropriate to run down the street after you."
"Don't tell me you were following me," I said, half joking. Charlotte didn't answer, but grinned at me like a cat.
"What? Have you been following me?"
"Don't worry, Vincent didn't ask me to. It's just that following people is what we do, and when we're doing it nonstop, it's hard not to follow people who