If I Should Die Read Free Page A

side squeeze, and I winced. “Sorry, little sister, forgot about that cracked collarbone Vi gave you yesterday.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked to the door. “Pain is actually a good thing. It means I can feel.”
    Ambrose held my coat for me to slip into. “Okay,” he responded to someone I couldn’t see, and wrapped his arm cautiously around my shoulders. “Jules wants me to tell you not to worry about anything,” he said as we walked through the courtyard and out the gate. “That Violette has bigger things in mind than using Vincent as her puppet and you as bait.”
    â€œIf that was meant to reassure me, thanks. But the thought of Violette charging up to Paris as a Champion-fueled supernuma doesn’t make me feel much better,” I admitted.
    We walked in silence down the dark street and across the boulevard Raspail. A church bell chimed twice, two low and mournful notes tolling from far across town. One lone taxi sped past us, the busy boulevard empty this early in the morning. It began to rain in a fine mist, and I snagged my hood to pull it up over my hair. When it flopped back down, I left it. The cold needles of rain felt good against my skin. Another reminder that I could feel. That I, for one, still had a body.
    We turned onto my street, and I squinted up at Ambrose as raindrops dotted my eyelashes. “I’m not as concerned about Violette manipulating Vincent. That’s just a ‘maybe.’ An ‘if.’ What’s definite is that his body is gone, and he can’t ever get it back. He’s stuck as a”—my voice cracked from emotion—“ghost for the rest of eternity.”
    I shuddered and Ambrose tightened his grip. “I know,” he said, and the note of despair in his voice showed me all the emotion that his face couldn’t. He cocked his head to the side, listened, and then nodded.
    â€œWhat did Jules say?” I asked.
    â€œHe was using language that I couldn’t repeat in front of a proper lady like you, Katie-Lou,” he admitted.
    â€œAbout Violette?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood. She deserves it, the evil bitch.”
    Ambrose laughed and planted a kiss on the top of my head as we stopped in front of my building.
    â€œJules, will you be able to get close enough to talk to Vincent without Violette knowing you’re there? I mean, if he’s attached to her . . . or whatever.” I asked the air.
    Ambrose listened for a second and then said, “He says he’ll do his best. But we’re pretty much clueless about this whole binding thing.”
    â€œIf you do talk to him, just tell him that we’re doing everything we can. And that I’m not giving up on him,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage.
    Ambrose sighed and, taking my hands in his, stooped to look me in the eye. “I know you a bit by now, Katie-Lou. And I know you’ll go insane just waiting around. But Jules and I will keep you updated, I swear.” He smiled. “Girl, I saw the look on your face when JB told you this, but I have to agree with him. The best thing you can do now is get some sleep so you’ll be ready for whatever happens tomorrow.”
    His words worked like magic on my spring-loaded nerves, and all of a sudden my anxiety turned to a fatigue so deep that I could have curled right up on my front steps and fallen asleep. Ambrose saw it, and his features flooded with compassion. “It’s been a long day,” he said. Carefully avoiding my hurt shoulder, he pulled me into a big American bear hug. And thank God for it. Sometimes those French cheek-kisses just weren’t enough.
    Releasing me, Ambrose cleared his throat loudly and rubbed his hands together as if he could squish our grief between his palms. “Okay, little sis,” he said. “Call you in the morning.” And he was