I Should Die

early this morning. He was avoiding me. I would have been able to tell something was up.” My grandmother met my eyes. “Surely Antoine didn’t believe a word of it. He’s not even superstitious, for God’s sake!”
    I took her hand. “I know it’s hard to believe. Half the time I feel like I’m living in a really twisted fantasy novel. But, Mamie, try to—I don’t know—suspend your disbelief for now. You can talk to Papy about it later. Just please let me finish.”
    She did her best not to interrupt again. “Yes, yes, I remember. That makes sense now,” she said from time to time when I linked the story to something she recognized: my breakup with Vincent (and subsequent makeup); Vincent’s outburst about Lucien at our dinner table.
    I tried to skip the part where Vincent possessed me to kill Lucien, but Georgia couldn’t help herself from filling in the blanks—to my grandmother’s horror. By the end her palms were glued to her cheeks and her expression was one of shock and resignation.
    “And now the . . . numa, is it?” she asked. I nodded. “They have Vincent’s body?”
    “They had Vincent’s body. But they burned it.”
    I got the words out without choking, but tears coursed down my cheeks as I registered the horror in Mamie’s and Georgia’s eyes.
    “But his spirit still exists? And you can still talk to him?” Mamie clarified.
    “I might be able to if he can get away from Violette.”
    “I always knew she was a depraved munchkin,” Georgia muttered, gnawing on a thumbnail.
    “What about your evil ex-boyfriend?” Mamie scolded her. “After the Lucien story, you’ll be lucky if I ever let you date again!” She turned to me and sighed. “Oh, Katya, I don’t even know what to say.”
    “But you believe me?” I asked, watching her face.
    “I have no choice, other than believing that the two of you are crazy or brainwashed. Or on drugs,” she said in a tone that suggested she might prefer one of those options to the alternative. “And Antoine knew about this?”
    “Just since yesterday,” I qualified.
    Mamie sighed. “I hate to say this, but I don’t blame your Papy for banning you from seeing Vincent.”
    My shoulders slumped, but Mamie held up her palm, cautioning me to wait. “You just told me your story. Please let me respond. I’m trying to think of how to put this without hurting your feelings.”
    “What?” I asked, as a knot of self-protectiveness formed in my chest.
    I watched a series of emotions cross my grandmother’s face: pity, indecision, and finally indignation. But then she glanced at my wet, swollen face and her bubble of anger popped.
    “Oh, Katya,” she sighed. “Even if Vincent and his kind are the good guys, it’s like telling me you’re dating Superman. Who wants their granddaughter to be Lois Lane—constantly threatened by her boyfriend’s evil enemies? Instead of falling for a hero, I can’t help but wish you loved a normal boy. A nice safe student, perhaps.” She looked askance at Georgia. “Even a boy in a rock band would be easier to accept.” My sister suddenly found her fingernails of the utmost interest.
    Giving me a final squeeze, my grandmother rose slowly and walked to the door. Pausing in the doorway, she folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes for a moment as if trying to mentally erase everything she had heard in the last half hour. Then, opening them again and seeing Georgia and me sitting there, she sighed.
    “First of all, I will call your school in the morning and tell them that the two of you won’t be coming in tomorrow. That will give you time to figure out how to deal with what has happened and”—she glanced at Georgia—“to heal.
    “Secondly, Katya, I believe your insane tale, even though I’ve never heard anything like it in my life. Your Papy and I will do our best to be understanding, even if we don’t approve. From now on, Vincent and his kindred are an open subject in this house. No more hiding things from us. We are on your side and want to help you make smart, well-informed decisions whether you’re talking about bad grades or the undead.”
    Her nose wrinkled upon the last word. Although she was trying to be matter-of-fact, I knew it was hard for her to get those words out of her mouth. “Okay, Mamie,” I promised.
    “I’m here for you, darling. This family is familiar with grief. You can always come to me for comfort and know I will understand.”
    I nodded at my