Until I Die

ancient. Although they’re just as aristocratic as him.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious,” I laughed. “Violette looks like she died really young.”
Charlotte smiled. “Fourteen. Her father was a marquis or something, and she was a lady-in-waiting to Anne of Brittany. She died saving the young queen’s life during a kidnapping attempt.”
“Queen Anne? That makes her practically medieval!” I racked my brain for names and dates from my French history classes, but Charlotte beat me to the punch.
“She died right around 1500.”
“Holy cow. She’s more than half a millennium old!”
Charlotte nodded thoughtfully.
“How about Arthur?”
“He’s from the same era. They actually knew each other in life. He was one of her father’s counselors, I think. In any case, they both reek of courtliness. She and Arthur live in a medieval castle in the Loire Valley, where I’m sure they feel right at home.” There was a bitter tone in Charlotte’s voice. It sounded like she wished they would go back to their château and leave us all alone.
“Their coming here is like a dream come true for JB. They’ve been around so long they’re like living encyclopedias. Kind of like Gaspard times ten. And Violette’s known all over the world for being the expert on revenant history. She knows more about the numa than anyone. Which makes her the perfect candidate for helping JB strategize.” She shrugged as if that conclusion were obvious.
The creaking sound of the front door opening interrupted us. We turned our heads to see the topic of our conversation, her nobility so tangible it was like a cloud of expensive perfume suspended in the cold winter air.
“Hello,” Violette said. Her voice mixed the high pitch of a little girl’s with an older woman’s self-assurance. This creepy discrepancy quickly disappeared as her rosebud lips curved up into a friendly smile that was so infectious, I couldn’t help but smile back.
Bending over, she gave us the regulation kiss on the cheeks, and then stood. “I would like to present myself. Violette de Montauban.”
“Yeah, we know,” said Charlotte, studying her shoes as if the silver strappy heels held the answer to the universe, and might just reveal it if she stared hard enough.
“You must be Charlotte,” Violette said, acting as if she hadn’t noticed the brush-off, “and you”—she turned to me—“you must be Vincent’s human.”
The sound that burst from my mouth was a half sputter, half laugh. “Um, I actually have a name. I’m Kate.”
“Of course, how silly of me. Kate.” She turned her attention back to Charlotte, who still refused to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry if our sudden arrival has caused you distress,” Violette said, accurately reading Charlotte’s body language. “I was afraid it might come across as unduly insensitive myself, but once I offered our services, Jean-Baptiste insisted that Arthur and I come with the greatest of haste.”
“‘Greatest of haste’? You don’t get out much, do you?” said Charlotte rudely.
“Charlotte!” I reproached, nudging her with my elbow.
“That’s okay,” Violette laughed. “No, Arthur and I keep to ourselves. I spend most of my time with my nose in old books. And as guardians-in-residence of the Château de Langeais, we don’t, as you say, ‘get out very much.’ I’m afraid that is apparent in my mode of speech.”
“If you’re never around humans, how do you integrate enough to save them?” Charlotte said, visibly trying to temper her bitterness.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the longer we are revenants, the less compulsion we have to die. I was nearing sixty when I spoke with Jean-Baptiste a couple of weeks ago. Since then, I managed to save a few gypsy children playing on the train tracks, and Arthur rescued a hunter from an attack by a pack of wild boar. So we’re refreshed and ready for the job ahead of us. But that’s the most animation”—she paused to smile at her pun—“we’ve seen for decades.”
I shivered, not from the cold but from the thought that this young girl had recently looked the age of her own grandmother—that is, if her grandmother weren’t already lying around mummified somewhere. And now here she was, younger than me. Although I should be used to it, the whole revenant concept of reanimating at the age you first died was still hard for me to wrap my head around.
Violette studied Charlotte’s face for another second, and then touched her arm with an