I Should Die

expression.
    “Gotta be weird being the Champion,” she says. “What are your powers?”
    I feel kind of embarrassed. As if she asked me to list the things I like best about myself. I focus on the things I’m most worried about. “The prophecy says I’m supposed to have ‘preternatural levels of strength.’ Not sure if you noticed back there, but I’m no stronger than anyone else.”
    Uta nods and thinks for a second. “Maybe in your case it’s not physical strength. Seems like you’ve got a lot in here,” she says, thumping her chest with her fist. “Doesn’t always take muscle to be mighty.”
    I think about the hippy-dippy in-touch-with-their-feelings label that Charlotte had used for Charles’s kindred, and try not to grin.
    “You know, we had a Champion in Germany,” she continues. “A few hundred years ago. There was a load of political and social infighting—lots of chance for betrayal. Numa had overrun the place. Champion came in. He led a battle against our enemies.”
    “What happened? How did he do it?” I ask, my pulse accelerating. This is the first thing I’ve heard about a German Champion.
    Uta shrugs. “Don’t know. He succeeded. I mean, the numa were wiped out and our region started with a clean slate. But how he did it? Meaning what kind of powers he had—I can’t tell you.”
    “Why not?” I ask.
    Uta hesitates and then says, “Because he didn’t survive the final battle.”
    I try to keep my face emotionless. No wonder Vincent doesn’t want to talk about what I am. Being the Champion doesn’t mean I’m going to win. Uta’s just confirmed that.
    But I don’t regret what I’ve become. I could be dead right now. If I hadn’t been a latent revenant when Violette stabbed me, that would have been it. This is a second chance, not only for me but for Paris’s bardia and its unsuspecting human population.
    I try to imagine what the city would be like overrun by numa. Evil would reign supreme. Images of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and Francoist Spain come to mind. Of Third World countries run by dictators or generals who seize the resources and let their population starve. Genocide. That is what can happen when the balance of good and evil is disturbed. In this light, it seems impossible to me that I can make a difference.
    But I was given the chance to see my grandparents and Georgia again. Not to mention Vincent. I look over to where he is talking with Louis, and his eyes meet mine before returning to the young numa. Even when he’s involved in something else, Vincent’s attention never leaves me. I know I’m lucky to have been given more time with him.
    And I decide that if this is all I have, if we all die today, well then these precious extra minutes will have been worth it. Excusing myself to Uta, I hurry to catch up with Vincent.
    Without slowing his pace, he flings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him, bending down to kiss the top of my head before continuing his conversation with Louis. As the newly formed numa finishes telling his story, Vincent looks troubled.
    “All I have wanted since I transformed into this monster is to go back and erase what I did. To turn back time so that I could do things differently. I want out,” the boy concludes.
    “There is no out,” Vincent says just loud enough for me to hear.
    “Even so, you should know that I will do anything to escape that fate,” Louis says fervently.
    As we walk past the Louvre and onto the bridge to cross back to the Rive Gauche, Vincent nods to Arthur, who takes Louis by the arm. They drop back to let us talk alone.
    “Okay, Kate. I see why this guy made you think,” says Vincent. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he is numa. His destiny has been decided, and nothing can change that.”
    “Vincent, I know this doesn’t make sense. But there’s something different about him. Not only in the feeling I get from him, but his aura is different.”
    “His aura?” Vincent says incredulously. “Doesn’t he have a numa aura?”
    “Yes,” I admit. “But it’s not the same. There is this golden kind of glimmer inside. I think it means something. Like there’s some good in him. Some hope. I know this goes against everything you’ve learned—what you believe is right. But . . . Louis has to come with us.”
    Vincent slows and then stops to face me, and the others flow around us like a tide. He touches my face, and then laces his fingers through my hair. He holds