I touched the crystal locket to my lips. And pulling the cord holding the signum Vincent had given me over my head, I added the memento mori locket to the ancient symbol of the revenants and tucked them back under my shirt.

Hearing a knock at the door, Jeanne and I turned to see Gaspard leaning in, his hair sticking out like an explosion. “Ah yes . . . excuse me for interrupting.” He averted his eyes as if allowing us to finish in privacy.

“It’s fine, Gaspard. I had just finished showing Kate my boxes.”

“Yes, yes. Good, good.” Gaspard nodded, tugging nervously on the hem of his jacket, straightening what was already ironed to perfection. “Your grandmother is ready to leave, Kate, and wishes you to go with her.”

I kissed Jeanne and followed Gaspard to the armory, where we collected Georgia and walked the long hallway to the foyer.

“We’re walking to the gallows,” Georgia said. “I wonder if she’ll ever let us leave the apartment again.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Gaspard murmured, but didn’t say anything else.

We found Mamie at the front door, her mood much improved. “So tell me,” she was asking Jean-Baptiste, “regarding the portrait of your ancestor that I restored: Was the sitter actually you?”

“Oui, madame,” the older revenant acquiesced.

Mamie nodded, studying his face. “Well, even though I know there is magic involved, I must say I am terribly impressed at how well you’ve kept yourself,” she remarked admiringly.

She turned, hearing us approach. “There you are, mes enfants,” she said, the stern look returning to her face. “Come along now. We will discuss everything with your grandfather when we get home.”

Gaspard held the door open, and Georgia and I stepped out, Mamie shooing us ahead like a mother hen. Lacing her arms through ours, she turned to say good-bye.

“I look forward to meeting your husband one of these days,” Jean-Baptiste said.

“I’m not sure he feels the same way,” Mamie remarked with an amused gleam in her eye, “but I will have a talk with him and we will see how things develop. In the meantime, I thank you for your offer of protection. I will be in touch.”

“As you wish, madame,” Jean-Baptiste responded. “You are in complete control of the manner in which things proceed between your family and mine. Just give me the word and I will provide whatever you request.”

“Merci, cher monsieur,” Mamie said, nodding elegantly, and then turning, led us toward the gate.

I knew we were fine when we passed the fountain and Mamie, unable to help herself, lifted a finger toward the angel and his lovely burden. “Did you notice that spectacular example of Romantic-era sculpture, Katya? The diaphanous quality of the woman’s dress could only have been achieved by a great master. Surely not Canova himself. But, then again, I wonder. In any case, truly exquisite.”

Mamie’s fury had passed. I smiled. “Yes, Mamie. I’ve noticed it before.”

NINE

PAPY WAS WAITING ANXIOUSLY IN THE KITCHEN when we walked in, toying with an untouched cup of tea. “It’s time for us all to have a talk,” Mamie announced before Georgia and I could escape to our bedrooms. She herded us into the salon, gesturing at the chairs she wanted us to take.

I hadn’t seen Papy since everything had happened. He glared at me, his features broadcasting anger, fear, and disappointment. “To say that I am furious would be a wild understatement,” he said, clutching the arms of his chair.

“I’m so sorry, Papy,” I said, meaning it.

He sat there looking hurt for another moment, and then all at once he was like a balloon deflating. He leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes, his look changing in a second from “force to be reckoned with” to “tired elderly man.”

He opened his eyes and focused on me. “When I forbade you from seeing Vincent it was for your own protection. Not so you would throw yourself into the midst of a supernatural battle.”

“There were bigger things going on than just me and Vincent, Papy,” I explained. “His whole house was in danger and I thought I knew who was betraying them.”

“Damn his house,” Papy stated succinctly, his anger returning.

Georgia broke the silence. “Vincent’s kind of a nonissue now, Papy, having been reduced to basically a ghost.”

My chest tightened as she said it. Though I was already fully aware of the situation, it somehow made it worse to hear it stated so directly.

“I told your grandfather what happened yesterday,” Mamie clarified.

Papy huffed to show that though he was informed he still didn’t approve, but his stern look softened a little.

“Okay,” I conceded. “Take Vincent and his house out of the equation. We’ll just talk about our house. About me.” I steadied my voice. Getting emotional was not going to help my case.

“If you remember, Papy, the numa who showed up at your gallery weren’t after Vincent. They were after me, because one of his kindred had informed them I killed their leader. I was sure I knew who had told them. And Georgia and I went to prove it.”

“I never thought it was Arthur,” began Georgia, but Mamie shot her the stink eye and she shut up.

My grandfather shook his head in disbelief. “Why in the world would you girls take that upon yourselves?”

“Because Vincent didn’t believe me,” I responded.

“It’s true that Kate uncovered the traitor. No one suspected Violette,” remarked Georgia.

Papy’s old, vein-lined hands curled into fists and pounded the chair’s cushioned arms. “The end result doesn’t matter. I wanted you to stay away from them, Kate. Not involve yourself even further in their problems.”

I could have answered that in a dozen different ways, but felt it was wisest at this point to keep my mouth shut.

Mamie let the ensuing silence settle before speaking up. “Well, you’ve said your piece, Antoine. And, Kate, you’ve heard your grandfather. Even though you didn’t disobey him in the letter of the law—you didn’t meet with Vincent behind your Papy’s back—your actions put you and your sister in mortal danger. And, whether or not Violette would have captured Vincent later, your actions yesterday led to his demise.”

“Mamie!” Georgia exclaimed, gasping, as my eyes filled with tears. But although they hurt, my grandmother’s words only poured kerosene on a flame of doubt that had already been threatening to spark into a full-on bonfire. Though Violette had planned to kill Vincent and overthrow the revenants, everything had come to a head because of my actions.

No one had mentioned it at La Maison. Vincent falling prey to Violette was completely her fault in the revenants’ minds. But I couldn’t help but wonder how things would have turned out if I hadn’t precipitated their showdown. I was going to have to live with that question. And the guilt.

Seeing my face, Mamie rose from her chair and came over to place a comforting hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to say it like that,” she conceded. “But we are all in this mess together now. The numa know who we are and where we live.” She paused and turned to Papy. “That’s why it seems to me that ordering our granddaughters to stay away from their revenant friends at this point in time would do more harm than good.”

“But, Emilie! How can you say that?” Papy exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“Because I have just returned from a long discussion with the head of France’s bardia, Monsieur Grimod de la Reynière.”

Papy’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “So that’s where you’ve been!” He stared incredulously at me and Georgia, looking like he couldn’t take much more.

Mamie continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And the two of us, along with his companion, a very knowledgeable historian, discussed the most prudent way of moving forward.”

My grandfather sank back into his seat with an expression like he had been slapped. “And that would be . . . ,” he prompted.

“It so happens that Monsieur Grimod had already set up a system where Kate would be escorted wherever she went. However, yesterday she and Georgia managed to elude that system by leaving school during a time the revenants thought they were safe.” Mamie threw me a look of disapproval, but I was already feeling so depressed and guilty that it didn’t have any effect.

“He too feels that if the numa had no knowledge of Kate or Georgia, the best course of action would be keeping them away from the revenants.”

Now I was the one who felt slapped. “How can he say that after he was the one who asked me to come back and talk to Vincent when we were broken up?”

“He admitted that to me, Kate,” Mamie responded. “He said that it was bad judgment on his part. That he was only thinking of Vincent because he had never seen him that distraught before. That one thinks of one’s own child in such circumstances, and that he was remiss to have not considered you and your safety.”

Papy gave a kind of harrumphing noise, signaling his displeasure.

“In any case, what is done is done, and we both agreed that at this point you are safer near the revenants than away from them. Actually, we all are. Monsieur Grimod says that at this moment Violette is intent upon war and they should consider any of their allies or contacts at risk, even though it is doubtful that she will maintain an interest in you girls now that she has Vincent.”

So. Jean-Baptiste hadn’t told Mamie that Violette could use me as bait to make Vincent obey her every whim. That was the real worry as far as I was concerned—the only reason she would be concerned with me in the least.

“Jean-Baptiste promised me that Kate and Georgia will have revenants watching them twenty-four/seven.” She turned to us. “Don’t worry, girls, you won’t even know that they’re there.”

“He’s assigning them both full-time bodyguards?” Papy asked, confused.

“Believe me, Antoine, Monsieur Grimod has a lot of revenants at his service. This will barely put a dent in his numbers. What do you feel about it?”

Papy glanced between the three of us, and then, crossing his arms over his chest, he exhaled a long, sad sigh. “Ma princesse,” he said, facing me. “I know that Vincent and his kind are here to help humanity. That he’s one of the good guys. If it weren’t for the fact that being close to him and his kindred put you in danger, I would count it an honor to be associated with them. But your safety means the world to me, and that changes everything in my mind.”

My grandfather paused, thinking. “If we asked you to relinquish Vincent and his kind, would you do it?” he asked me.

I couldn’t look him in the eyes. Massaging my forehead with my fingertips for a few seconds, I admitted, “No.”

“A truthful answer,” Mamie said. “Because of that I would rather we collaborate with Jean-Baptiste to keep you safe than to restrict you from seeing them like your Papy did.” My grandfather began to disagree, and Mamie put a hand up to signal peace. “Quite reasonably, darling, I don’t blame you for it one bit. But that drove Kate into their camp without our awareness.”

Papy sat back, defeated.

“Although it is the opposite of my natural inclinations,” my grandmother continued, “I feel it is best that you stay under the revenants’ protective care—as long as we know where you are at all times.” She turned to my grandfather. “Antoine, can you find your way to agreeing with me?”

My grandfather sat there looking miserable. “I don’t like it, but it makes sense. There’s no question the revenants can protect the girls better than we can. I will agree to this as a short-term plan, but I want you all to know that I feel very much backed into a corner, and that it is not what I wanted in the least.”

“We all know that,” Mamie allowed, and then turned to us. “Girls, do we have your word that you will not try to shake off your guards like you did yesterday—or leave the house like today, unless you are accompanied?”

Georgia and I agreed.

“Well, then. We have an understanding.”

I went to hug my grandmother, and when I leaned over I whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry, Mamie.”

“So am I, dear Katya,” she replied. From the troubled look in her eyes, I knew she wasn’t talking about my actions. She was sorry that I had lost Vincent, but even sorrier that I had met him in the first place.

TEN

I AWOKE THINKING, DAY TWO. VINCENT’S SECOND day as a disembodied spirit, and we were no closer to freeing him from Violette.

Ugh. Violette. Just her name made me sick, a word evoking a tiny, delicate purple flower. Change a few letters, though, and you had “Violent.” “Violate.” The desire for revenge flared inside me. I wanted to hurt her. To repay her for the betrayal and murder she had inflicted on the bardia and on me.

I swallowed the lump of bitterness in my throat and tasted bile. All my life, I had never really hated anyone. Okay, I had hated my parents’ killer—a drunk driver—but she had been an abstract, anonymous person who I never met. Now my hatred had a face. A name. And I felt its venom burning in my veins.

It actually felt good. Because when I focused on revenge, it made me forget my despair. The horrifying emptiness and sorrow I had been feeling—the knowledge that I would never touch Vincent’s hand, face, mouth again, never hear his low voice calling me his pet names—was temporarily submerged by the loathing I felt for the person who had done this to him.

Stop, I commanded myself. Giving in to my hatred wasn’t going to do anything for Vincent, only for me. And even if I did manage to pay Violette back, I would still be left with my loss. I had to think beyond my rage.