If I Should Die Read Free

its will.”
    Arthur spoke up. “I beg to disagree,” he said apologetically. “There are historical examples of coercion.”
    â€œFor example?” Jean-Baptiste insisted.
    â€œThere is the account from our Italian kindred that dates back to the Renaissance,” Arthur stated. “A numa chief killed a newly formed bardia and bound her volant spirit to him by incinerating his left hand with her corpse. He manipulated her into serving his will by threatening to kill her still-living human family, and became extremely powerful through the strength of his spirit-slave.”
    â€œThen it’s a good thing that Vin doesn’t have any human family left,” said Ambrose with a note of triumph. “No mortal bargaining chips for our Evil Empress to use against . . .” Realizing what he was saying, he stopped talking and lowered his face to his hands.
    He didn’t even look at me. He didn’t have to. Because everyone else was.

THREE
    â€œVIOLETTE USING . . . A HUMAN WHO IS DEAR TO him”—Gaspard avoided my eyes—“to blackmail Vincent is, as one would say in modern parlance, quite a long shot. She may not be aware of this ancient story. And even if she is, once she absorbs his power I doubt she will need the servitude of a much-weakened revenant spirit.”
    His words were meant to comfort me. And they did, to an extent. What he said was rational. But Violette had already used me once to get to Vincent. The thought that she might use me again—this time forcing Vincent to act against his will—was unbearable.
    Jean-Baptiste turned to address the crowd. His ramrod-straight posture, chest puffed out and hands behind his back, recalled the Napoleonic military leader he had been centuries earlier. “That’s enough talk of hypothetical situations. One of our kindred—my very own second—has been corporeally destroyed. We must act now to save his spirit and to stop Violette from achieving her plans.”
    With that, he began organizing everyone. Arthur was appointed to lead a contingent to Violette’s castle in Langeais. He had lived there for centuries, and could effectively hide a group of spies to keep tabs on Violette’s movements. Since Jules was volant, he was to accompany them, enter the castle, and try to contact Vincent’s spirit. And Ambrose was placed in charge of defensive strategy against the numa remaining in Paris. “To begin,” JB asked him, “could you please see Kate safely home?”
    â€œHome?” I leapt from the couch to face the revenant leader. “No! I want to help. There has to be something I can do.”
    Jean-Baptiste read my expression. “Kate, my dear, I am not being condescending—I’m being realistic. There is nothing you can do at this time of the night except go home, sleep, and be ready for any updates we have in the morning.”
    I eyed him skeptically, but he seemed sincere—it wasn’t a case of talking down to the weak, powerless human. But I didn’t agree with him. There was something I could do. Someone I could talk to who might have valuable information about what was happening. And the more informed I was, the more capable I would be to help Vincent.
    As JB moved to address the next group, I asked Ambrose to give me a moment. Sitting with my back to him, I found Bran’s number on my phone. The call went straight to voice mail. “Bran,” I said, speaking softly, “it’s Kate.” I exhaled and pressed my eyes closed. “Violette told me that her men killed your mother. If that is true, then I am so sorry. But there’s something you can do to help us fight the numa. I need to talk to you. Please call me when you get this message, whatever time of the night.” I gave him my number and hung up.
    Ambrose was waiting, watching me curiously, but didn’t pry. As I rose, he gave my shoulders a little