I Should Die

think you had just gotten home from your night out. But since I witnessed you in your pajamas last night . . .”
    “We’re going to La Morgue, right?” she asked. Peering into her dresser mirror, she sprayed some mousse on her fingers and ran them through her hair.
    “La Morgue?” I asked.
    “I mean La Maison, of course,” she said with a wry smile. “Slip of the tongue. All those dead guys, you know.”
    I shook my head, bemused. “Yes, actually. Jules texted that JB thought we should spend the day there.”
    “Hmm. I kind of figured he would,” she said, applying one last swipe of blusher and turning to me. “So . . . let’s go?”
    Mamie was waiting in the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow when she saw us come to the table fully dressed. “I take it you have heard of today’s invitation to ‘La Maison,’ as you call it.” She set the press coffeemaker on the table and, pouring herself a cup, sat down.
    “Your Papy went early to the gallery, and Monsieur Grimod just phoned. We both agree it’s best if you girls spend the day in the protection of his house—while Violette is on the loose in Paris, of course,” she said.
    Her voice was calm, but she was clutching her tiny espresso cup so tightly I was surprised the handle didn’t pop off. She knew she was doing the right thing but didn’t like it one bit. I gave her a little hug and tossed back a glass of grapefruit juice while Georgia gulped down some black coffee. “Can we take these with us?” I asked, holding up a croissant.
    “Of course. I’ll walk you girls downstairs,” Mamie said, standing and smoothing her skirt briskly before shooing us toward the door.
    “Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” I asked. Her exaggerated show of calmness was freaking me out.
    “Monsieur Grimod invited me as well, but I would prefer to stay here and work rather than sit around someone else’s house all day. He promised to have his people watch our building, just as he has for your Papy’s gallery. So don’t worry about us,” she said.
    Ambrose and Arthur were waiting outside our door. “ Bonjour, Madame Mercier,” they called, and she smiled graciously at them. “What polite boys,” she said approvingly, and stood at the door watching us until we turned a corner and I lost sight of her.
    Arthur offered Georgia his arm, but she pretended she didn’t notice, pointing at a movie poster on the side of the news kiosk and chatting with him about the latest Hollywood blockbusters. Ambrose chuckled and winked at me, “Your sister’s driving the poor guy crazy.” He bit into the croissant that Georgia had given him, devouring half the pastry in one bite.
    “Yeah, that’s her forte,” I commented drily. “So—update. I mean, Jules gave me a no-news update, but give me details of the non-news.” I nibbled the end of my own flaky croissant and licked the crumbs off my lips.
    “We’ve been out all night, combing Paris for Violette and company. No luck,” he said, looking bothered. “It’s like she just disappeared. Jules is still on it, though, along with Charlotte, Geneviève, and the entirety of Paris’s revenants.”
    “Besides you and Arthur,” I pointed out.
    “And Franck, volant.” He gestured to the air above us. “Yeah, the three of us were tagged to watch you and defend La Maison against any ‘surprise attack.’” He accented these last two words with finger quotes, obviously annoyed to be left out of the action.
    “Well, once we get Georgia to La Maison, I can go with you to join the hunt. I’m sure that with all of the security you guys have, Arthur can hold down the fort.”
    Ambrose looked doubtful. “Yeah, you might want to ask Gaspard about that,” he responded, clearly thinking it was a bad idea.
    “So Gaspard isn’t out with the search parties?” I asked.
    “No. He and JB are questioning Bizarro Man,” he replied. “Trying to find a way to detach Vincent from Violette, and pry any other guérisseur secrets out of him.”
    So, JB and Gaspard were thinking along the same lines as I: Bran might know something that could help Vincent. A little balloon of hope inflated in my chest. I felt like running the rest of the way to La Maison, but Arthur and Ambrose acted like we had all the time in the world.
    We hadn’t walked two blocks when Arthur stopped suddenly and glanced behind us. “Numa,” he said. “Franck says that there were two in the park across from the Mercier home. He didn’t spot