Until I Die

service to high school, of course.”
Jules peered at Georgia in the mirror. “That attack after your boyfriend’s concert, followed a week later by four break-ins by our enemies, all adds up to the fact that the numa are back in action. And Vincent is worried that you, Kate, could be a target.”
“Why me?”
“The numa know he’s JB’s second, and they know you’re with him. Kidnapping you—or worse—would be the perfect way to provoke him. Vincent just wants someone to keep an eye on you until he’s back and can do it himself.”
That was a lot to process. “I feel like saying that I can fend for myself. But after facing off with those guys in the alley, I think I’ll just thank you for the offer and shut up about it.”
“So, Jules,” Georgia said, leaning forward, “not that I’m not appreciative that you are protecting my sister from evil murderous zombies. But since that conversation’s run its course”—she paused for effect—“Kate tells me that Arthur is a writer.”
To my dismay, my sister had not given up on her crush on Arthur. And ever since she and Sebastien had broken up the previous week, she had mentioned the revenant at least once a day.
“He asked about you, actually,” Jules said matter-of-factly.
“He did ?” Georgia purred. “Do tell!”
“He was just wondering if you had recovered from the trauma of your numa attack. He saw you on the street the other day and said you looked well.”
“Looked well ? I wonder if that means ‘looked hot’ in fifteenth-century speak?”
“And she’s off,” I murmured, drawing a laugh from Jules.
“No offense,” he continued, “but I think what interests him is that Violette seems to hate you so much. It provides entertainment for that otherwise dull practically-married-without-benefits life of his.”
“Mmm … benefits,” Georgia said, rolling the word around in her mouth like it was candy. “Be sure to mention to Arthur that I’m single again, you know, when the topic of me comes up.”
I shook my head, and Jules burst out laughing. As we pulled up to the school, and Georgia got out of the car, I leaned over to him. “Can you wait for a minute?” He nodded, looking confused, as I stepped out of the car.
“Georgia, I’m skipping today. Can you cover for me?”
My sister eyed me curiously. “This is so unlike you that I’m assuming it must be of vital importance. Like Nancy Drew–style sleuthing for questionably existent healers kind of importance. Hmm. What’ll you swap for my silence?” She smiled craftily.
“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure Jules puts in a good word with Arthur.”
“Make it a date with Arthur, and I’ll write you a sick note signed by Mamie.”
I laughed—“I’ll see what I can do”—and turned to get back into the car.
“Hey, Kate,” Georgia called, her voice serious now. I hesitated. “Be careful, whatever it is that you’re doing.”
“Promise,” I said, throwing her an air-kiss and lowering myself into the passenger seat.
“What’s up, Kates?” Jules said unsurely, fiddling with the radio dial.
“A day trip,” I said.
That got his full attention. “Where to?”
“To Saint-Ouen.”
“You’re skipping school to go to the flea market? Does Vincent know you’re doing this? Wait … don’t tell me. Of course he doesn’t or you’d wait till he got back to go.”
“Did Vincent ask you to guard me today?” I asked. Jules nodded. “Well, I’m going to Saint-Ouen. So you can either drop me off at the Métro station or take me there yourself. Whatever your guard-sense feels is right.”
Jules’s lips formed an amused smile. “Kates, has anyone ever told you that you are one persuasive girl? Are you on the debate team at school?”
I shook my head.
“Pity,” he said as he put the car in gear. Swinging it around to face Paris, he gunned the motor and we were off.

    “Jules?”
“Um … hmm?”
“How did you die?”
We had been stuck in traffic on the Périphérique for a half hour. Up to now our conversation had consisted of small talk—which meant in the revenants’ case things like how Ambrose and Jules had recently saved people in a tourist bus that drove into the Seine. But I had been wondering this for a while, and sitting in gridlock felt like the perfect time to ask.
“I mean, you told me you died in World War One,” I continued, “but did you die saving one particular person, or was it more the abstract fact that you were defending your countrymen as a