I Should Die

of numa. But I won,” I say, attempting a smile.
    “We were so worried, Kate,” Papy interjects, and something catches in his throat. With a stiffness that sounds unnatural for him, he says, “Nothing matters except the fact that you are here now.” It sounds like something he has practiced. Like he’s trying to convince himself as he says the words.
    I see his distress. He is hugging me—the old Kate—while recoiling from the idea of hugging the new me. The undead me. I don’t blame him. Hopefully we’ll both be able to get used to it with time. If we have the time , I think, remembering that we are going into war and nothing is certain.
    Georgia stands quietly until my grandparents let me go. Her eyes are swollen and red, and it looks like she hasn’t slept in days. “Kate,” she murmurs. After seeing my mournful Papy, it breaks my heart to see my sister like this.
    “You don’t look any different,” she says, hesitantly touching my cheeks with her fingertips. “And you won’t ever look any different from this, even when I’m old. Even when I’m dead.” She smiles mournfully. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I should be cheering, ‘Huzzah, death!’” She rotates her finger in a halfhearted celebratory circle. “You’re immortal now, for God’s sake.”
    “Not if Violette has anything to do with it,” I respond.
    She studies me for a moment, and then I see a little spark of life flash behind her pale green eyes. “She obviously hasn’t seen our sword fighting skills,” she says, smiling with effort. “We’re just going to have to give her hell.” And taking my hand, she leads me into the house.
    Vincent follows us, walking beside my grandparents. Jeanne waits inside the foyer. She brushes tears away, gives me a silent hug, and then motions toward the sitting room. “Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard are waiting for you,” she says, and then, glancing toward Vincent, adds, “They will be leaving right afterward.”
    My grandmother and grandfather pause, unsure if they’re invited to join the meeting, but I can tell they don’t want to leave my side. “Come with me,” I say. Jean-Baptiste rises to his feet as we enter, and it is strange to see him acting like a guest in his own home.
    Hello, Kate , says Gaspard.
    “Hi,” I respond out loud, for the benefit of the others.
    Even if I couldn’t see it ahead of time, I knew you’d win against those brutes , he says with pride.
    “Thanks to your training,” I say, “and Charlotte showing up at the right moment with a well-aimed arrow.”
    Jean-Baptiste gives me the bises and then puts his hands on my shoulders as he inspects me. “You look the same. Eyes, cheekbones, lips, hair . . . ,” he says, balking a bit when his gaze reaches my straggly mud-blood-and-river-water coiffure. “None have been altered. Becoming one of us hasn’t changed you a bit. Incredible.”
    “Why would Kate change?” says Vincent, grinning. “I was ready to follow her to the ends of the earth when she was human. She doesn’t need anything extra to convince humanity to lay their lives in her hands.”
    Now that the conversation is turning supernatural, I glance back at my grandparents to gauge their reaction. Papy is staring longingly at the door, and Mamie is fidgeting and looking extremely uncomfortable. Georgia raises an eyebrow at me. I can tell that she too feels this conversation isn’t making anything easier for my family.
    “So,” the older revenant says, “our very own Kate is the Champion. When I saw the light you gave off from inside that houseboat, I knew something special was happening. Imagine my astonishment that it was you, my dear. Under my nose this whole time, when I had believed that Vincent was the chosen one.” He peers closer at me and touches my cheek.
    “It all makes sense in hindsight,” he continues. “At least now I can forgive myself for letting you into the house the day you discovered Vincent dormant. Being persuaded by a teenage girl is one thing. But being persuaded by the Champion . . . well, I can handle that.”
    “I’ll try to take that as a compliment and not a dis, Jean-Baptiste,” I say, smiling.
    “That makes one thing I can forgive myself for,” he admits, a shadow falling across his features. “My kindred have much more to pardon. Which is my cue to go. Shall we, Gaspard?”
    “We never asked you to leave,” Vincent says, blocking the door.
    “I know that,” Jean-Baptiste replies.