Until I Die

Vincent could grab on to. A ledge conveniently placed just feet below the rim of the precipice.
But this wasn’t a movie. It was real life. And by the time I got to the edge, their bodies had already hit the ground, and neither one was moving. “No!” I shrieked, as a man in a fur coat rushed into the area below, a couple of others following him closely. Turning, I saw that Violette was gone.
“Arthur, stay with Georgia!” I yelled. I arrived at the bottom in time to see the numa leap inside the back of an awaiting van and slam the doors behind them, and the van sped off. Panicking, I doubled back and ran toward the bottom of the cliff but stopped halfway there. There was nothing to see. The bodies were gone.

THIRTY-SEVEN
     
    VINCENT WAS DEAD AND HIS BODY HAD BEEN taken by the numa. The realization of what that meant filled me with an immobilizing horror. Normally, he would simply reanimate in three days. But the numa would never allow that to happen.
If they destroyed his body immediately, he would be gone. Forever. However, Violette could do worse. She could wait a day and destroy him once he was volant. Eternity as a wandering spirit, unable to take physical form again—that seemed like an even more horrific fate to me. I had to do something before the numa and their new leader had a chance to act.
I called Ambrose.
“Katie-Lou? You still at Montmartre? Has Vin gotten there yet?” he asked before I could speak.
“How did you know—” I began.
“Jules was volant at the house when you girls decided to tail Arthur, so he followed you. Once he saw where you were going, he let Vincent know and then came to get me. You guys okay? Hand Vin the phone, will you?”
“Ambrose, Vincent’s gone. Violette and a numa killed him and took his body. They’ve got him, Ambrose!” My voice was starting to sound hysterical. It was all I could do to get the words out.
“What? Violette?” he yelled. “Where did they go?”
“They drove off from the base of the Sacré-Coeur staircase in a white truck. Like a delivery-van-looking thing.”
“How long ago?”
“It’s been two minutes, tops.”
“Is Arthur still there?”
“Yeah. He’s with Georgia. She’s hurt.”
It took him all of three seconds to come up with a plan. “Okay. Arthur will know if Georgia needs a hospital or not. If she doesn’t, the three of you get back to Jean-Baptiste’s. I’m calling him now. He’ll sound the alert for our Paris kindred to begin searching. You just hang in there, Katie-Lou.”
“Thanks, Ambrose.” My voice cracked as I hung up. But I couldn’t let myself cry. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And I needed to be strong.
Looking back up the staircase, I saw Arthur making his way down with a fully conscious Georgia, who leaned heavily against him. The handkerchief she held to her mouth was stained poppy red with her blood. I sprinted up the stairs toward them.
“I looked down and couldn’t see his body,” Arthur said as soon as I caught up.
“Violette took him. I called Ambrose, and Jean-Baptiste’s sending out a search party.” My voice was flat as I tried to rein in my emotion. Just a few more minutes and I could let go, I told myself, and wrapped Georgia’s free arm around my shoulders.
“Took who, Katie-Bean?” Georgia slurred as she shifted some of her weight onto me. She had been knocked unconscious before Vincent arrived and had seen none of it. I didn’t feel like explaining. Not yet.
“Should Georgia be moving?” I asked Arthur.
“She’s injured, but I don’t think any bones are broken. Some tourists at the top got a good look at her. I think it’s better if we get away before someone calls the police.”
We made our way to the bottom of the stairway and onto the street, where we slipped into a cab that had just dropped off a group of black-habited nuns. I glanced up at the basilica. Two policemen were standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at us as people pointed in our direction. I closed my eyes in relief as the taxi pulled away. The last thing we needed was to be stopped for questioning.
Vincent’s gone . The thought raced through my mind and turned my body numb. No. Don’t think about it. Hold yourself together, or you won’t be of any help .
I squeezed Georgia’s hand as she leaned her head on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Very sore,” she said. “The inside of my mouth’s bleeding where that bitch from hell kicked a tooth loose.”
I glanced at