I Should Die

watched Bran work. I suspected his nervousness was due to the fact that he was in the presence of a wealth of arcane information that he couldn’t actually touch. The thought of what could be written in the books was enough to fill me with wonder, and I wasn’t a hyper-anxious nineteenth-century historian. Under the circumstances, I felt he was holding himself together quite well.
    I spent the time reading a grisly account of pre-Columbian Aztec kings who used revenant Seers to find newly formed bardia. They forced them to serve as immortal bodyguards by threatening their loved ones. When the king died, their bardia slaves were immolated with them. Although I shuddered at the horror of it, the story’s disturbing content made me see our own situation in a different light: Things could be worse.
    Finally Charlotte peeked her head through the door. “Your grandmother called to ask you to come home for dinner. Jean-Baptiste asked me to walk you back,” she said. “He’s still interviewing Vincent about Violette. There has been no numa activity since this morning, and since Violette is waiting to get something from us, JB feels you’re all safe staying at your house tonight.”
    “But what if . . . ,” I began, looking pleadingly at Gaspard.
    “We will call you the second we find anything,” the older revenant promised me.
    “Violette gave Vincent three days,” I said, letting myself feel the panic I pushed down every time I looked over and saw Bran moving at a snail’s pace through his texts. “That means . . .”
    “Which leaves two days and eleven hours. Yes, dear Kate, I am just as aware as you are of our time constraints,” Gaspard reassured me, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “But since there’s nothing you can do to help at the moment, you might as well go home to your grandparents.”
    I gritted my teeth and turned to leave the room with Charlotte. I hated feeling powerless. It’s not like I was helping out much just sitting around the library. But being at home with my grandparents wasn’t going to do anything to help.
    As I gathered my coat and bag, it suddenly occurred to me that Papy may have come across examples of re-embodiment in his research. That thought lifted my spirits enough that I left without arguing further.
    As we exited La Maison’s courtyard and headed toward my house, Charlotte turned and waved to a couple of shadowy figures positioned at the end of the block. Two bardia fell in step, keeping a block behind us. JB was keeping his promise to guard me carefully.
    A couple of bikers raced by dangerously near as we crossed the street. I laced my arm through Charlotte’s and squeezed her close to me.
    “So what do you think about that re-embodiment thing?” she asked. “The whole house is buzzing about it. Do you think it could be true?”
    “I think that if there’s even a microscopic chance that it’s true, I’m going to make sure we try every known way of testing it.”
    She nodded. “Hopefully the guérisseurs ’ books will have something useful in them.”
    “If not . . . or even if so . . . I’m going to see if I can’t dig anything else up. My grandfather has read an awful lot on mystical topics, you know, including a few revenant texts.”
    “Hmm . . . ,” she said doubtfully.
    Why does no one believe a human can help the bardia? I thought, frustrated. I changed the subject. “So what’s it like to come back to La Maison with Ambrose there?” We crossed the bustling boulevard Raspail. It was a freezing third week of February and the shop windows were full of light summer clothes that I couldn’t even dream of wearing as I pulled my thick coat tight around myself. We stopped in front of one display.
    “You should really try something like that,” Charlotte said, nodding toward a short, waistless lingerie-style dress that the mannequin wore over skin-tight jeans.
    “Um, that might actually happen in another lifetime. And you are avoiding my question,” I responded, pulling her away from the window and onto the crosswalk with me.
    Charlotte shrugged in defeat. “It’s hard. Ambrose’s eyes never leave Geneviève. When he hasn’t been guarding you, he’s been trailing her.”
    “So that’s why he was itching to join the hunt for Violette this morning,” I said, putting two and two together.
    “That and the possibility of a good fight.” Charlotte smiled.
    “Has he said anything else to you about her?” I