I Should Die

your house uninvited, but I am here to collect my granddaughters.”
    “Of course, madame . But I would have thought that under the present dangerous circumstances, you would prefer for them to be here, under our protection, rather than out in the public world unprotected.”
    “Unprotected!” Mamie’s face turned poppy red. Her gaze shifted to Gaspard, who nodded seriously, agreeing with JB. Glancing back, she shot me her most dangerous look, and then, exhaling between pursed lips, attempted to compose herself.
    “Monsieur Grimod, please try to put yourself in my shoes. Last night my granddaughters came home after participating in a violent fight during which both could have easily been killed. Kate’s boyfriend actually was killed, although I realize that that sort of thing isn’t as serious for your kind, your deaths being impermanent,” she said crisply.
    “But because his body was then immolated , he is now floating around as a ghost and being held captive in a castle by a psychotic medieval zombie. The same psychotic medieval zombie who gave one of my granddaughters a concussion and has been sending the other flowers for the last couple of months . . . at our home . . . because she KNOWS WHERE WE LIVE.” Mamie’s face was now purple from her battle between politesse and her true feelings.
    “And now I am being asked if my granddaughter can walk right back into the same situation. Unless I was completely insane, my response to that request would be an unequivocal no.”
    “But, my dear lady, that is exactly why you should let your granddaughters come to us. Because the case is, unfortunately, just as you stated. The numa know where you live. Violette knows where you live. I would like to offer you and your granddaughters our protection, so it is a very good thing that you are here now and we can talk about it.”
    Mamie hesitated, then said, “I lost my son a year and a half ago because of a drunk driver. I refuse to lose another family member—or two—for a reason just as meaningless.”
    “There is nothing meaningless about a battle between good and evil, ma chère dame ,” Jean-Baptiste responded quietly. “And that is the position we find ourselves in right now. Please . . . come with me.” He held out his arm and waited, ignoring the way Mamie flinched when she finally took it lightly in her fingers.
    “We shall retire to the sitting room, where Jeanne will serve us coffee. Or would you prefer tea? If you are amenable, we will send Kate off to join her sister in the kitchen so we can discuss the situation between ourselves.”
    I followed them into the hallway and Gaspard closed the bedroom door behind us, leaving a comatose-looking Bran alone to rest. “I see you have met Gaspard, my longtime partner,” continued JB with a wry smile. “It is his opinion that I am the worst person possible to be charged with explanations, so I will ask him to join us.”
    I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Jean-Baptiste had just come out of the closet to my grandmother, when I had never heard him mention his relationship with Gaspard to anyone before. It wasn’t a secret, but coming from olden times they weren’t exactly into the PDA and it was easy to forget that they were together. Hearing it from his own lips was a revelation. It meant that he was trying to show my grandmother that he was putting everything—even his personal information—at her disposal so that she would trust him.
    As I was thinking this, JB glanced over and caught my eye.
    Merci , I mouthed.
    He nodded grimly at me.
    “My dear woman, can I just say what a true pleasure it is to have you pay us a visit in our own home,” Gaspard was saying, shaking only slightly in his tic-y way as he did a bow/hand-kiss combo that I knew would melt Mamie’s heart.
    “Katya, do not leave this house,” she said, turning to me. “I will join you and your sister when I finish talking to the gentlemen.” And holding Jean-Baptiste’s arm, she accompanied the revenant couple down the hallway.
     
    I walked into the kitchen to find a tactical discussion about finding Violette taking place over an Italian-themed meal. The sharp smell of garlic hung thick on the air, mixed with the comforting aroma of baked cheese.
    “So she hasn’t been found?” I asked.
    Ambrose shook his head. “Henri and the others just reported back. Once again, she’s disappeared.”
    From beside him, a head turned and familiar green eyes peered up at me.