I Should Die

bag walked in. I wasn’t surprised to see he had the bardia-aura thing going on around him: I had doubted that Mr. Gold would ask a mortal doctor to tend to Vincent.
    They shook hands and the doctor headed over to Jules first. “Didn’t I sew this up yesterday?” he asked with consternation.
    “Yeah, well, let’s just call it ‘repetitive stress disorder,’” Jules replied, then winced as the doctor gave him a shot near the wound site.
    “I better go, Mamie,” I said.
    “I’ll be sure to tell Georgia your news, and we can’t wait to see you and Vincent back here at home. Give him a big hug for me.”
    I hung up the phone, bemused. A hug for Vincent—from Mamie? That gesture in itself reminded me of how much she loved me. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my lips, and seeing it, Vincent smiled back at me. But since he hung up with Gaspard, there was something else in his eyes: worry. I was about to ask what Gaspard had told him when the doctor interrupted.
    “So what do we have here?” he asked.
    Vincent raised an eyebrow at Mr. Gold, who responded. “Vincent here was dormant following quite a violent death, and didn’t receive sustenance for a good while after awakening.”
    Not completely a lie. I suspected that the re-embodiment story wasn’t something Mr. Gold wanted to spread around. Who knew what ties Violette still held in the revenant world? It had only been a few days since her treason had been uncovered.
    I got up so the doctor could sit and take Vincent’s blood pressure. Bran moved across the room and began making notes in one of his leather-bound books. Adding a groundbreaking event to the flame-finger records , I thought.
    Mr. Gold and Papy stood next to a window talking. “During the time we must wait for Vincent to recover, I would be delighted to return to the museum and show you the collection in more depth, now that we don’t have more pressing issues on our minds,” Mr. Gold was saying as I walked up to them.
    “That would be an honor that I could not pass up, Theodore,” Papy said.
    “Please call me Theo. You too, Kate,” he said, winking at me.
    “Only if you call me Antoine,” said Papy, and grasped Theo’s arm warmly.
    “You’ll be fine,” I heard the doctor saying to Vincent. “But I would strongly recommend bed rest for the next couple of days.”
    “Two days?” Theo said.
    “Two or three,” the doctor clarified, folding his instruments and putting them back into his bag.
    Vincent waited until Theo closed the door behind the doctor before speaking. “That won’t be possible,” he said, trying to sit up.
    “Why not?” Theo asked, looking surprised.
    Vincent leaned his head back on the couch pillow and said in a weak voice, “Because back in Paris, war has begun.”

TWENTY-EIGHT
    “WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” ASKED Theo, horrified. He strode over and sat at the foot of the couch.
    “Gaspard just informed me that numa have been arriving in Paris in large numbers. Our kindred from all over France have reported them leaving their own cities and heading toward the capital. There hasn’t been a sign of Violette, but no one questions the fact that she’s orchestrating an offensive against the bardia.” Vincent’s voice was fading.
    “All right. I will call Gaspard back to get more details on the happenings in Paris. But you would be of no help in this state. You have got to recover before we can even think about putting you on a plane.” Vincent didn’t even try to fight Theo. He didn’t have the energy.
    Jules had sat up upon hearing Vincent’s announcement. Theo asked, “How about you? Are you feeling better?”
    “Still weak, but nothing a good sandwich couldn’t cure,” he said, although he looked a bit woozy to me. Theo picked up the phone and placed an order at a deli and then phoned Gaspard to inquire about the state of affairs in Paris. Fifteen minutes later, we were all digging into an assortment of enormous sandwiches, crispy dill pickles, and salty potato chips.
    Vincent stopped after a couple of bites. “I’m too exhausted to eat,” he told me. “Although I don’t want to take my eyes off you for a second, I’m going to need to rest, mon amour ,” he said, his eyes blazing as he touched my cheek with his fingertips.
    I twirled a lock of raven hair in my fingers and smiled at him, feeling like seventeen years of Christmases, birthdays, and wishing on falling stars had all been combined into this one