Georgia looked thoughtfully at her fingernails. “Um, from what I understand, you go around saving people’s lives in order to prevent yourselves from coming down with a supernatural case of delirium tremens.”

After a second, the entire table burst out in laughter. Violette grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and strode out of the café. Arthur, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his amusement, stood, gave us a little bow, and followed her out.

“Touché, Georgia,” Jules murmured appreciatively. “Violette could stand being taken down a notch, but don’t expect to be BFFs now.”

Georgia gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Hanging with the aristocracy has never been my style.”

“So what are you guys up to?” I asked, hoping that the change of topic would shut Georgia up. I was going to have to do some apologizing once I saw Violette again.

“We were seeing Geneviève off,” Vincent said, finishing his glass of Coke. “She’s gone to the south to stay with Charlotte and Charles. Said she couldn’t stand hanging around her house without Philippe in it.”

I nodded, knowing how she felt. I couldn’t wait to get out of our home in Brooklyn after Mom and Dad died. Everything I looked at reminded me of them—it was like living in a mausoleum.

“Now it’s back to work, bringing Arthur and Violette up to speed with the Paris goings-on . . . at least it was until you drove them off.” Jules winked at Georgia as she smiled demurely and raised her hand to attract the attention of a waiter.

As we left the café a half hour later, Vincent draped his arm around my shoulders. “Come back with us,” he urged. “We’re having a house meeting since no one’s dormant today. It would be good if you were there.”

“I’ll see you back home,” Georgia said. Since she wasn’t welcome back at the house, she was clearly letting him off the hook as far as extending the invitation. After enthusiastically kissing each of the boys good-bye, she headed toward Papy and Mamie’s.

Ten minutes later we were back in the great hall, just like a couple of months previously when Jean-Baptiste was handing out punishments and rewards after the numa battle and Lucien’s death: exile for Charles and Charlotte and acceptance into the household for me.

The two new members of the kindred were seated on a leather couch in front of the fire, heads close together as they whispered heatedly. They seemed to be having an argument. I steeled myself and walked up to them.

“Violette?” I asked.

She peered up at me, seeming as fragile as a porcelain cup. “Yes?” she responded, looking away to nod at Arthur as if dismissing him before turning back to me. He stood and walked over to Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard, who were studying a map off in a corner.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry that my sister offended you. She can be like that sometimes, and I’m not making excuses for her, but I just want you to know that I don’t feel the same way she does.”

Violette thought for a second, and then solemnly nodded her head. “I would not judge you by your sister’s words.” She reached out to touch my hand. “What is that phrase you use in English . . . ‘Sticks and stones’? I hold no offense,” she said in her stilted language.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Can I sit here?” I asked, motioning to an armchair next to her. She smiled evenly and said, “Of course.”

“So . . .” I fished for a topic of conversation. “What have you and Arthur been doing for the last week?”

“We have been walking with the others—mainly Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard. They are introducing us to the territories of Paris. Arthur and I have been here before, but things have changed in the last century.”

Surreal conversation, I thought for the millionth time. Although I was starting to get used to it.

“Is it weird to be away from your home?” I asked.

“Yes. We have lived in Langeais for a few centuries, so it does feel quite odd to have such a drastic change to one’s routine. But, of course, it is for a good cause, helping Jean-Baptiste subdue the numa.”

She leaned in closer and spoke earnestly, as if what she was asking was important and confidential. “And you, Kate? How does it feel to be outside of the world you are used to—having fallen in with immortals? Do you ever wish you could go back to the normal life of a human girl?”

I shook my head. “No. That life was over for me anyway. At least, that’s what it felt like. My parents died around a year ago. When I found Vincent”—or was it when he found me? I wondered—“I might as well have been dead too.”

“It is a strange choice for a beautiful, vibrant girl to spend her time with the undead.”

She really did sound like an old lady at times. “I feel accepted here,” I said simply.

Raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, she nodded and then took my hand and squeezed it, in what felt like a gesture of solidarity. Girl-to-girl in a house full of men.

“Is everyone here?” Jean-Baptiste strode to the place of authority in front of the fire and looked around the room. “Good,” he said.

I felt someone touch my shoulder and looked up to see Vincent standing behind my chair. He gave me a sexy wink, and then fixed his attention on the older man.

“We all know about the drop-off in numa activity since Lucien’s death. It’s as if they’ve disappeared. But why? What could they be waiting for?”

“May I?” Gaspard asked, raising a trembling finger and facing us. “They’ve always been undisciplined in the past. Although Lucien was their leader, he could never seem to stop them from occasionally acting on individual initiatives. But, as we’ve mentioned, judging from their recent behavior, we suspect they may have a new leader—one who is actually able to keep them under control. And Violette has now confirmed that suspicion.” He waved a hand toward the revenant beside me, as if handing her the mic.

“I can not say that it is exactly ‘confirmed,’” Violette piped up. “But there have been rumors. My sources have mentioned a numa from overseas—from America, more specifically—who has begun positioning himself as an international leader.”

There were exclamations of surprise around the room. Ambrose spoke up. “I’ve never heard of something like this. I mean, we have our international Consortium, but the numa? I can’t even imagine it. It’s not in their nature to work together.”

Violette nodded. “I agree that if it is true, it is unprecedented. But from what I have heard, the numa in question was a man of great power during his lifetime. People trusted him with their fortunes, and he deceived them all, sending many to ruin and several to suicide.”

“How did he die then?” I asked.

“Killed in prison,” she replied simply.

“So what’s this mean for us?” asked Jules. For once, his expression was serious.

Jean-Baptiste took the imaginary podium. “Violette has her sources, and we hope that they continue to feed her information. But we can begin to contact our kindred elsewhere to see if they have heard anything else on the matter.

“In the meantime, we should strengthen our defenses. Step up our surveillance. And, as I discussed with a couple of you, I am lifting the ban on offensive—” I felt Vincent’s body tense behind me, and as Jean-Baptiste’s eyes flitted to him, the older revenant stopped in the middle of his sentence, casting the room into an uncomfortable silence.

“May I interrupt at this point?” came a melodic voice from across the room. Everyone stared at its source. This was the first time I had heard Arthur speak: He was constantly brooding away in some corner, scribbling in a notebook. Everyone else seemed just as surprised by this uncharacteristic outburst.

Arthur shot a look at Violette, who clenched her jaw and glared at him. Okay, I thought, this must have something to do with the argument I interrupted.

“Perhaps I am stating the obvious, but we are discussing sensitive strategic information in the presence of one who is not of our kind.”

What? The blood drained from my face as I felt everyone stealing glances my way. I stared at Arthur, but he avoided my eyes, smoothing a blond lock behind his ear, as if he needed to do something with his hands.

Vincent’s hands clamped my shoulders like steel vises. I looked up to see that his face had turned to stone, and had a hunch that if revenant superpowers included shooting flames from their eyes, Arthur would be a revenant barbecue.

Everyone was silent, waiting. Arthur cleared his throat and glanced back toward Violette. Her tiny fingers clenched the arm of the couch, her fingernails digging into the leather.

“Although I allow that humans have interacted with us throughout history, except for the rarest of cases, like our own Geneviève’s marriage, serious interaction with humans has always been on an employer-employee basis. I realize that this human has done you a service by killing your foe. But I must question her presence in a tactical meeting involving the protection and survival of our own.”

He might as well have slapped me in the face. Tears came unbidden to my eyes, and I wiped them angrily away. Within a second Jules and Ambrose were on their feet, facing Arthur like they were in some kind of gang rumble. Vincent pulled me back toward him as if he could physically protect me from Arthur’s words.

Arthur held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Wait, kindred. Please hear me out. I do not know Kate as well as you, but I have seen her enough to know she is a good and trustworthy human.” He finally dared to meet my eyes, and his look was apologetic. I didn’t care. Apology not accepted. “I am not suggesting that she is not welcome here among us,” he continued. “Only that she not be involved in this meeting. For her own safety, as well as our own.”

There was a cacophony of voices as everyone began speaking—or rather yelling—at once. Jean-Baptiste raised a hand and barked, “Silence!” He looked at each person in the room for a second, as if measuring their feelings in the matter, ending his silent inquisition with me. “Kate, my dear,” he said in his noble monotone, which made the “dear” sound anything but endearing, “forgive me for asking you to take your leave from this meeting.”

Vincent began to speak up, but Jean-Baptiste raised a hand to silence him. “Just this once, until we settle this matter with our newcomers. I want everyone to feel comfortable with the situation, and Arthur and Violette have not yet had the time to acquaint themselves with your presence here. Would you do me the very great favor of excusing us on this one occasion?”

I shot Arthur the meanest glare I could muster, knowing that it had to be pretty lame: My eyes were red from stifled tears of humiliation. His eyes looked empty, but he held my gaze until I broke it. Lifting my chin, I gathered every shred of my tattered pride together as I stood.

“I’ll walk you to my room,” Vincent whispered, laying a hand on my arm.

“No, I’m fine,” I said, backing away from him. “I’ll wait for you there.” Unable to look at the others, I left the hall.

Instead of going back to Vincent’s room, I went to the kitchen, hoping to find comfort from the only other human in the house. I pushed my way through the swinging door into the kitchen, where Jeanne bustled around with trays of food. She put the kettle on the stove as soon as she saw me and came over to give me two energetic cheek-kisses.

“Kate, darling, how are you, my little cabbage?” She held me back and got a look at my red face and eyes. “My dear! What is the matter?”

“I was just kicked out of a house meeting for being human.”

“What? But I don’t understand. I am very surprised that Jean-Baptiste would take that position after everything that has happened.”

“It wasn’t Jean-Baptiste. It was Arthur,” I said, sitting down at the table. Accepting Jeanne’s offer of a Kleenex, I dabbed the corners of my eyes. “He said I might endanger the safety of the household.”

“Now, I can’t imagine him saying something like that,” Jeanne said unsurely, sitting down across from me and pushing a plate of homemade honey-scented madeleines my way. She thought for a moment and then seemed to relent. “Arthur and Violette are . . . how would you say . . . ‘old school,’ perhaps? They are from nobility. And where they once looked down on the peasants, they now feel the same way about humans. It doesn’t mean they aren’t good people. It just means they’re . . . snobs.”

I laughed, hearing Jeanne use the derogatory term. She was always so positive about everyone and everything. For her to call Violette and Arthur snobs must mean they were raging immortal bigots.

“They’re here to do good work, Kate. Even if they aren’t the most pleasant people, they know a lot and have been around longer than anyone else. And seeing their preference for isolation, I doubt they’ll stay for long. Before you know it, things will be back to normal.”

I nodded, munching on a cookie, and tried to reason that my own pride shouldn’t stand in the way of the safety of the group. It’s not like I deserved to be included in their most secret discussions. I was not a revenant. I was the exception to the rule. Who was I kidding? I didn’t belong.

I could feel my mood getting darker by the second. “I’m leaving,” I said, throwing my arms around Jeanne’s neck. “Thanks. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in an alternate universe when I’m here.”

“Well, you basically are, chérie,” Jeanne said as she let me go and tightened her apron. “You won’t be staying for dinner?”