I Should Die

words sank in, I felt dizzy. Up to now, Vincent had been silent. Now he spoke. Don’t get too excited, Kate. This is probably just a legend. A story.
    But I couldn’t help it. This faint glimmer of possibility had already banished my despair. There might be a way to get Vincent back. The slimmest of chances was enough to give me hope.
    “Do those records still exist?” Jean-Baptiste was asking Bran.
    “Yes. They are the same ones that contain the information Violette is searching for. But I must caution you; although I remember my mother reading me one story about re-embodiment, I’m not sure it spells out what must be done during the ritual. It could just be a dead end.”
    “No matter. Any information at all is more than what we currently possess. We can send someone immediately for your records.” JB was already moving toward the door. “Where are they kept?”
    Bran hesitated. “Somewhere revenants are not allowed to go,” he said, causing JB to stop and turn. His expression fell somewhere between taken aback and furious.
    “How about humans?” I asked. “I’ll go.”
    No , Vincent said. I ignored him and kept my eyes on Bran.
    “My dear, we are trying to keep you out of danger, not throw you into the middle of it,” said Gaspard.
    “Actually, since Kate holds the signum bardia , she would be allowed to enter my family’s archives,” Bran said thoughtfully. He rubbed his stubbled chin as he considered.
    “Vincent tells me that he forcefully objects to the possibility of Kate going on her own,” Gaspard said, holding up a cautionary finger.
    “You could have her accompanied to the entrance if you are worried about her safety,” Bran offered, “but once inside, I assure you she will be perfectly safe.”
    “I’m going, Vincent,” I said to the room. “If there is even the slightest possibility we can get you back, there’s no way you will stop me.”
    But, mon ange, he said.
    “No! I will not listen to you. Jean-Baptiste, will you send someone with me?”
    “Of course, dear girl,” he responded immediately.
    “Bran has promised I will be perfectly safe once inside, and I’ll have guards until I get there. You can’t say no to that. And even if you do . . .”
    Okay, Kate! You win, Vincent conceded . But I’m going with you, too.
    Satisfied, I turned to Bran. “When can I go?”
    “You will have to wait a few hours—until nightfall. The entrance is in a place that is all too visible during the day.” Although Bran had made it clear that a revenant couldn’t enter his family’s archives, he seemed grateful that I had volunteered. He trusts me , I realized, the thought filling me with inexplicable delight.
    “I’m dying of curiosity. Where is it?” I asked. I knew Paris like the back of my hand, and couldn’t imagine where that type of secret place would be hidden.
    “It has been in Paris since Roman times,” Bran responded, “and was built as an offshoot of the dwellings of the regular guérisseurs —those healers who dealt with humans, I mean. Where would a Roman soldier likely go for healing and relaxation?” he quizzed me with a tired smile.
    “To the Roman baths,” Gaspard and I responded together.
    Bran nodded. “My family’s archives are located in a cave beneath the Roman baths, underneath the Cluny Museum.” And with a smile he added, “Hidden underneath one of the city’s busiest neighborhoods: the Latin Quarter.”
    “I will fetch Arthur and Ambrose,” Gaspard said. “If you could brief them on the access to your family’s archives, we will send them to guard Kate.” He turned to me. “Perhaps you would like to replace Arthur in your sister’s fight training?”
    Now that we had a plan, I wanted to get started . . . not waste the next few hours waiting for nightfall. Come on , I heard Vincent say. I would hate to miss a chance at seeing Georgia with a sword.
    “That’s because there’s no possible way she can chop any of your body parts off,” I said, feeling buoyed by Vincent’s joking mood. Although he wasn’t letting on, he must also hope that Bran’s family secrets contained a solution . . . or at least a clue . . . to escape his disembodied state.
    “I, however,” I continued, “am in grave bodily danger. Georgia with a sword . . .”
     . . . might be dangerous enough to actually be of some use against the numa , Vincent said, the voice in my head trailing off in a chuckle as we headed downstairs to the