I Should Die

body’s side.
    The eyes flew open and Vincent took a great gulping gasp, as if trying to swallow all of the oxygen in the room.
    “Vincent,” I said, my heart in my throat.
    His eyes flew to mine. He reached toward me, and I took his hand and pressed it to my cheek. His skin was burning hot, like with a fever. I kissed his fingers, and his skin smelled like fire and rain-soaked earth. Like the boy I thought I would never touch again.

TWENTY-SEVEN
    IT WASN’T UNTIL JULES AND MR. GOLD HAD helped Vincent down out of the thymiaterion that we realized we had forgotten one essential element for resurrecting a spirit in a brand-new body. Clothes.
    This was a first for me. The most I’d seen of Vincent up to now was post-workout with only a towel around his waist. But noticing Papy look pointedly at me, I turned around and crossed my arms, waiting until the others wrapped a silver packing blanket around him before throwing myself on him.
    “Kate,” he said, staggering a bit, and then pulled me tightly to him and kissed the top of my head. I held my mouth up for a real kiss and his lips were like a revelation. Like our very first kiss, only a hundred times better. Vincent smiled weakly at me, and then his eyes shut as his head fell forward and he collapsed in my arms. Now it was me staggering, as I found myself holding all of his weight.
    Jules rushed over to help me lower Vincent’s unconscious body to the ground. I held his head on my lap as Mr. Gold checked his blood pressure. “How stupid of us,” he chided, “We should have planned to have food and water here for him. He’s probably in a state similar to awakening from dormancy—terribly weak and in need of nourishment. Let’s get him home quickly.”
    “We can’t take him out on the street naked,” Papy said.
    Jules pulled off his T-shirt and I helped him shuffle it over Vincent’s arms and head. Pulling on the sweater he had set aside while he was bloodletting, Jules said, “Give me your keys, Theodore. I saw some workmen’s overalls in the restoration studio where we got the clay.”
    Within ten minutes we were making our way out of the giant hall, weaving up and down passageways until we reached a tiny service door where there was no guard to witness an unconscious Vincent being carried between Jules and Mr. Gold. We managed to get him across the street and into Gold’s building with only a few curious looks from early-morning passersby.
    Once inside the safety of the apartment, Jules and Mr. Gold laid Vincent down on one of the living room couches. “Oh. I’m bleeding again,” Jules said simply, staring at the blood coursing from his arm. Our host was off in a flash, and returned with a linen bandage. He wrapped it tightly around Jules’s wound before leading him to another couch and persuading him to lie down.
    Vincent was breathing but still not conscious. Bran sat down next to him and studied his paper-white face. “His aura is very weak,” he commented.
    “Quickly. Get some sustenance for Vincent. Kitchen’s that way,” Mr. Gold barked from Jules’s side. Papy and I bustled down the hallway and began combing through an impeccably clean all-white kitchen in search of food and drink. I grabbed a tray off the counter and loaded it with a bowl of almonds, a few bananas, some jars of French yogurt, and a loaf of whole-grain bread, and Papy added a carton of orange juice and bottle of water from the fridge.
    When we got back to the living room, Mr. Gold was on the phone, telling his doctor to come immediately; that it was an emergency. I sat down on the couch next to Vincent and, propping his head forward with one hand, poured some water through his lips. As soon as the liquid hit the back of his throat, he sputtered and sat up, opening his eyes and looking around wildly. “Where am I?” he asked, and then seeing my face, he immediately relaxed.
    And finally, now that the crisis was over, it was as if a switch had been thrown and the room erupted into a frenzy of joy. “We did it!” Mr. Gold exclaimed, breaking into a funny celebratory jig. “Thank the gods,” Jules said with a look of overwhelmed relief, and flopped back onto the couch.
    Papy started clapping, which encouraged Mr. Gold to add a little kick to the end of his dance, before running over to Bran and clasping him in his arms, patting his back firmly. “ You did it!” Mr. Gold cheered.
    Bran stood there looking shy, but his eyes shone in victory. “I can’t believe