And then—suddenly—I did.
As a wave of comprehension washed over me, I felt immediately and violently ill. I clutched my stomach and prayed that I wouldn’t vomit then and there.
Then a third man stepped forward from the shadows behind the church. It was the man I had seen Arthur talking to at La Palette. And now that I saw what he was wearing—a long fur coat that looked like it had been designed for a Renaissance lord in a costume drama—I knew where I had seen him before. He was the man between the tombs at Père Lachaise cemetery the day of Philippe’s funeral. I had been right to be afraid then. Because now, without a doubt, I could tell that the trick-of-light colorless thing going on in the air around him meant just one thing. He, too, was a numa.
He got down on one knee in front of the tiny revenant and, bowing his head, raised her hand to his lips. And just as Violette touched him lightly on the head, bidding him to rise, I saw someone sprint past me into the middle of the terrace. Blinded by the sudden change in light, she called, “Kate?”
I wanted to reach out and pull her to safety. I wanted to somehow warn her to run without giving her away. But it was too late. Because just then Violette turned and saw my sister.
THIRTY-SIX
VIOLETTE CHARGED TOWARD GEORGIA, SEEMingly propelled by fury alone.
I was momentarily frozen in place. My brain fought what my eyes said was true. It wasn’t supposed to be Violette meeting with the numa: Arthur was the traitor.
Puzzle pieces began fitting together in my mind. Violette’s fascination with Immortal Love and her frustration when she couldn’t get her hands on it. Soon after, revenant dwellings around Paris were ransacked by numa looking for … not documents but a book.
Another puzzle piece fell into place: The day after I replaced Gaspard’s book in his library, Papy’s copy—which must be read along with it to find the guérisseur—had been stolen. Someone had put the clues together and sent numa after Gwenhaël. And when they couldn’t find her, they had come after me with questions about the Champion. Now it was clear that Violette had been behind it all.
Why was she interested in the Champion? She had acted like the whole story was a stupid old fairy tale. Why did she even care?
Unless she believed it. It was she who had offered to come to Paris to help Jean-Baptiste. To live in the same house as Vincent. I thought of her unceasing questions about us as a couple and the way we could communicate. About Vincent and his superior talents. About his waning strength. And suddenly it all made sense. For whatever reason, all Violette had ever wanted was the Champion.
It was with my heart in my throat that I emerged from behind the statue and ran in their direction. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Arthur leave his hiding place and run toward me. I sped up, still unsure of whose side he was on.
But before I could reach my sister, Violette had shoved her violently backward, and pressed her against the guardrail. “What are you doing here?” she yelled, as Georgia glanced fearfully down the side of the precipice and then quickly straightened herself.
“The question should be what are you doing here, Little Miss Mata Hari?” Georgia’s vehemence made her sound confident, but I could tell she was scared. Violette lunged for her again, but my sister grasped the handrail behind her with both hands and kicked out, landing a blow to Violette’s hip.
As Violette stumbled back a few steps from the shock of the blow, I ran to stand beside Georgia, positioning myself defensively with fists raised.
“I guess this means our coffee date is canceled,” I said. The betrayal gnawing at the pit of my stomach turned my voice to frost. She just shrugged, demonstrating with one gesture that I was nothing to her. I wanted so badly to rush her, to push her, to demand an explanation. But I had seen her fight before and knew that even without a weapon, Violette was lethal.
There was a movement from behind her as two of the numa rushed out of the shadows toward us. In the same second I saw Arthur, who had been hanging back, leap toward them.
“These humans are mine!” the tiny revenant screamed without even looking over her shoulder. All three men came to a standstill a few yards behind her. Maintaining a careful distance from the numa, Arthur called, “Violette, let the girls go!”
She spoke, never taking her eyes off Georgia and me. “You’d like that, Arthur, wouldn’t you? Whatever happened to my old companion, who agreed that humans were barely worth the blood we spilled for them?”
“That was your opinion, Vi. It was never mine.”
“I know you, Arthur. I’ve known you for half a millennium. We’re practically the same person. Why didn’t you come with me when I asked? We have a new road to follow now.”
“I never thought it would be this road, Vi. And I’ve played your whipping boy for long enough. I said what you told me to about leaving Kate out of house meetings. And I looked the other way when I knew you were in contact with our enemy. Hell, I even dropped off a message from you to that one … that Nicolas,” he said, pointing back in disgust to where the fur-coat guy stood motionless in the shadows. “You’ve always used them for information, but I never thought you’d stoop to working with them. Or bowing down to their new-blood American numa overlord, for God’s sake.”
“There is no American, Arthur,” Violette said, with a short laugh as I gasped. “I made him up and claimed to be his emissary. I played an influential bardia in the pocket of a numa in case they balked at obeying me. But they’ve been following my orders for over a year. If Lucien hadn’t botched up the order to bring me Vincent’s head, you and I wouldn’t have had to endure this whole charade with Jean-Baptiste. The numa take orders from me now, and the revenants will soon be overthrown.”
“What do you mean they obey you?” Arthur asked, incredulous. “Four numa attacked us in an alleyway. You killed one of them. And you’ve stood by and watched Vincent destroy more than one.”
“Let’s just say I had a few troublemakers who didn’t want to accept my authority, whom I was more than happy to dispose of. It was very effective in allowing me to measure our Vincent’s strength. I do love strategizing, as you well know, dear Arthur.
“But now that everything has been set in order, you can take your place next to me as my consort. Give me your allegiance, and I will forgive your reluctance.”
“Never.” Arthur’s proclamation made him sound like the medieval knight he had once been. Or like his namesake, the king of knights.
Violette gave an enraged growl and—spinning so quickly I barely saw her move—landed a karate-style kick to the side of Georgia’s head, taking out her fury on my sister.
I threw myself on Violette, wishing I had something besides my body to fight her with. A sword. A quarterstaff. Any weapon that I had trained in, since I had never fought hand to hand.
I did my best to remember Gaspard’s lessons as I ducked and bobbed to avoid Violette’s martial arts–style attack. Although I couldn’t get a punch in edgewise, my actions distracted her from my sister, who was cursing loudly as she pushed herself up on her hands and knees. “Run, Georgia!” I yelled. “Get out of here!”
“And leave you to fight alone?” Georgia said indignantly. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her move into a crouching position and spring back toward us.
I heard the numa fighting with Arthur and knew he was too occupied to help. This was our fight, and though Georgia and I were inexperienced, I bet on the two-on-one ratio giving us the advantage.
My hopes were quickly dashed as Violette’s fist connected with my shoulder. I heard something crack and felt a sharp pain as I staggered backward. She used the moment to kick Georgia in the ribs. My sister backed up to the guardrail, her hands pressed to her side and her face contorted in pain.
“I’ve seen the way you look at Arthur. Did you think you could steal my partner?” Violette asked Georgia in a cold, even voice.
“From what I understand, he’s not yours to lose,” Georgia said, a bitter smile curving the corners of her mouth.
&nbs
p; “How would you know that, you stupid mortal?” Violette said, and spun to glance toward Arthur. Which gave me just the opportunity I was waiting for.
I used my good arm to land a punch to her head. My knuckle crunched hard against her jawbone. She screamed in rage and staggered backward a pace, but seemed otherwise unaffected. Violette was stronger—and tougher—than I could ever have imagined.
Behind her, Arthur was battling the two numa, with Nicolas standing patiently, watching from the other end of the terrace. Jean-Baptiste had said he was Lucien’s second. Even though he had offered his fealty to Violette, the noble-looking numa seemed happy enough not to get his hands dirty defending her.
For once, neither side had thought to bring weapons—the numa planning on a peaceful meeting with Violette, and Arthur trusting her too much.
Violette called out: “Alain! Back me up, and take the girl.” Before I could defend myself, the smaller of the two numa had defected from the fight with Arthur and was behind me, clasping my arms in a viselike grip. My injured shoulder flared painfully. I kicked and fought, but my captor was so strong it made no difference.
There was no way my sister could take on Violette herself. And no one could come to our rescue, since nobody knew where we were. Violette executed another kick to Georgia’s head, and I watched my sister slump to the ground. Despair gripped me. I wouldn’t live to see Vincent again. I thrashed one last time to escape my captor’s grip.
“Drop her,” came a voice from across the terrace. I twisted around to see Vincent, his dark face contorted in rage, coming around the corner of the church. Without slowing, he passed the giant statue of the archangel and, grabbing its marble sword in both hands, broke it off below the hilt. Swinging it at the head of Arthur’s attacker, he felled him with one violent blow, and the stone weapon shattered upon contact.
In his surprise, my captor dropped me. I landed like a cat on all fours and then sprang to my feet. “Kate!” called Vincent, and pulling a sword from beneath his coat, he threw it to me, hilt-first. Time slowed as I watched the silver blade soar through the air and felt the leather grip in my hand as my fingers closed tightly around it. Then it sped up again as I swung upward with all my might and caught the numa under his chin. The blade sliced cleanly through his neck, and his headless body toppled to the ground.
I stood there and watched the head wobble across the stones, trailing blood behind it. For a split second I felt sick, and then I forced myself to stop. Now is not the time.
I spun, sword held in front of my face, at the ready. My shoulder hurt so badly now, I had to clench my teeth to hold the position. Before me, on the far side of the terrace, I saw Nicolas running back into the shadows behind the church and Arthur leaping down a darkened stairway after him.
On my left, Vincent was making his way toward Violette, who was squatting down next to an unconscious Georgia. Though she was easily a half foot shorter than my sister, Violette picked up Georgia’s limp body in her arms as easily as a mother carrying her child to bed and began lifting it toward the guardrail.
“No!” I screamed, dropping my sword. I started toward them, and then stopped myself abruptly. The slightest movement, and the revenant could drop Georgia over the rail to her death. In fact, why hasn’t she already dropped her? The thought flashed through my mind, as I watched her hesitate.
“Violette, what are you doing?” exclaimed Vincent. He sounded genuinely confused. I realized that he still didn’t understand what was going on. He hadn’t suspected her in the least. None of us had. Except Georgia, of course—who was now being held in midair above a precipice. Violette stood like a statue, looking down at the dizzying drop.
Behind us, the numa that Vincent had downed began to stir. Bleeding profusely from the side of his head, he raised himself to his feet and lunged dangerously in our direction.
“Violette, make your numa stop!” I yelled.
Inexplicably, she obeyed me, calling, “Paul, stop.” The huge man froze in place. I took a careful step toward her.
“You’ve never killed a human, have you?” I asked, wondering if this was the reason for her hesitation.
“No,” responded Violette, still looking over the drop-off. She eased Georgia’s body down, propping it atop the guardrail and letting the metal structure take the weight. All she had to do was let go and Georgia would fall. Don’t drop her, I prayed. My sister’s body already looked lifeless. I blinked back the tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
“Then why now?” I asked.
“You know the formula, don’t you, Vincent? If a revenant kills a human …”
“She becomes numa,” he finished softly.
My mind felt sluggish with panic, but I pushed it to work. Violette hated Georgia. And it seemed clear that she hated humans. What did she care about? The answer was obvious: herself. “You don’t want to be one of them, Violette. No matter how unworthy humans are of saving, vengeance against one human is not worth becoming a monster.”
Violette swallowed, and then her voice came back as smooth as liquid ice. “Vengeance has nothing to do with it. I never wanted to be what I am. I had my immortal future decided for me at an age when I hadn’t even lived life. I’m so tired of being at the mercy of humans to keep me alive. I don’t want to save you. My only desire is to possess the power over my own destiny. And once my numa and I have conquered the revenants, Paris will be mine and I’ll have all the power I want. My own kingdom to do with what I wish.”
“You’ll still be dependent on humans to survive as a numa, Violette,” said Vincent. “No matter what, you’re stuck in a never-ending cycle. You’re just trading rescue for betrayal.”
“At this point, the latter sounds much more bearable,” Violette said.
“And what is this scheme to overthrow us? How do you plan on doing that?” asked Vincent incredulously.
“With the power of the Champion,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she stared unflinchingly at Vincent. “Of course, if you had agreed to have me by your side, I wouldn’t have had to resort to seizing control. I could have shared your power over all the revenants once you took your rightful place as their leader. But when you made it obvious that you wouldn’t come to me by choice, I decided that conquering them with the help of the numa might not be such a bad alternative.”
“That’s why you propositioned me thirty-five years ago?” Vincent said, staring incredulously at the girl. “Because you thought I was the Champion?”
“Well, it wasn’t because of your beautiful blue eyes,” she said wickedly.
“You don’t know he’s the Champion, Violette,” I challenged, my eyes darting to my sister. Don’t. Drop. Her. “That guérisseur you tracked down didn’t even turn out to be the VictorSeer.”
“No, but she had all the information that I needed.” Violette’s smile slashed like a knife.
“What?” I gasped. “But … she escaped you. Her son told me!”
“Ah, but she came back home,” stated Violette. “Or so my men here were informing me when your sister interrupted our meeting.”
My eyes opened wide in shock. “Gwenhaël. What did you do to her?”
“I, personally, did nothing. But my numa … well, it seems they had to go a bit far to get her to talk, and after that there was a little accident.”
“You killed her!” I choked, the air leaving my lungs like a balloon stuck with an iron spike.
“As I said, it wasn’t me. My men just got carried away. And, although I hadn’t planned things to happen quite like this, because of what she told us I am even happier to see you here, Vincent.”
“What did she tell you?” Vincent asked, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Why, that you are the Champion.”
“She can’t know that. She never laid eyes on me.”
Violette shrugged as if that wasn’t important. “The information she gave us as good as verified it.” She shifted the balance of Georgia’s body on the guardrail to lighten her load. Don’
t. Drop. Her. My body thrummed with alarm every time Violette so much as breathed.
“After Kate’s visit, the guérisseur woman did her research. As I suspected, the timing is right. The place is right.” She smirked at me. “I know, Kate, I told you the contrary. But you’re so gullible, it was just too tempting.”
“And …,” prompted Vincent.
“And when she told my men this morning that the Champion was the revenant who killed the last numa leader—that would be you killing Lucien, my dear Vincent—well, that clinched it for me. Congratulations. You are the chosen one.”
Vincent raised his hand to his heart. “It just doesn’t make sense.” The dark blotches under his eyes stood out against his unnaturally pale skin, and he stumbled a little as he took a step backward. He would be dormant in a couple of days and was looking even worse for being at the end of this month’s grueling experiment.
“Look at you,” Violette stated, wrinkling her nose. “Even though your impressive display with the marble sword back there seems to have tired you out a bit, you should in actual fact be dead. Only someone with the strength of the Champion could follow the Dark Way for more than a few weeks. Absorbing all that numa energy should have killed you by now. You’ve had two forces battling within you: good and evil waging war inside your reanimated body.
“Gaspard was stupid to believe me when I told him it would make you stronger. Now you’re weak enough for me to take you on myself. You know the prophecy. If I destroy the Champion, his power will be mine.”
“You’re crazy,” I whispered.
Vincent put a slight pressure on my arm and pulled me slowly backward, behind him. “If anyone knows their dark prophecy, it’s you, Violette. But even I know that if the Champion offers himself freely to his captor, his full powers will be transferred. I’ll trade myself for the life of the girl, Violette.”
Violette hesitated, her grip on Georgia loosening.
She let him take one step toward her, allowing him to come an arm’s length away. “It is written that if the Champion offers himself up to death by his own volition, his power will not be diluted by murder,” she said, greed flaring in her eyes. “You would be willing to face death for these humans?”