Bending over, she gave us the regulation kiss on the cheeks, and then stood. “I would like to present myself. Violette de Montauban.”
“Yeah, we know,” said Charlotte, studying her shoes as if the silver strappy heels held the answer to the universe, and might just reveal it if she stared hard enough.
“You must be Charlotte,” Violette said, acting as if she hadn’t noticed the brush-off, “and you”—she turned to me—“you must be Vincent’s human.”
The sound that burst from my mouth was a half sputter, half laugh. “Um, I actually have a name. I’m Kate.”
“Of course, how silly of me. Kate.” She turned her attention back to Charlotte, who still refused to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry if our sudden arrival has caused you distress,” Violette said, accurately reading Charlotte’s body language. “I was afraid it might come across as unduly insensitive myself, but once I offered our services, Jean-Baptiste insisted that Arthur and I come with the greatest of haste.”
“‘Greatest of haste’? You don’t get out much, do you?” said Charlotte rudely.
“Charlotte!” I reproached, nudging her with my elbow.
“That’s okay,” Violette laughed. “No, Arthur and I keep to ourselves. I spend most of my time with my nose in old books. And as guardians-in-residence of the Chateau de Langeais, we don’t, as you say, ‘get out very much.’ I’m afraid that is apparent in my mode of speech.”
“If you’re never around humans, how do you integrate enough to save them?” Charlotte said, visibly trying to temper her bitterness.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the longer we are revenants, the less compulsion we have to die. I was nearing sixty when I spoke with Jean-Baptiste a couple of weeks ago. Since then, I managed to save a few gypsy children playing on the train tracks, and Arthur rescued a hunter from an attack by a pack of wild boar. So we’re refreshed and ready for the job ahead of us. But that’s the most animation”—she paused to smile at her pun—“we’ve seen for decades.”
I shivered, not from the cold but from the thought that this young girl had recently looked the age of her own grandmother—that is, if her grandmother weren’t already lying around mummified somewhere. And now here she was, younger than me. Although I should be used to it, the whole revenant concept of reanimating at the age you first died was still hard for me to wrap my head around.
Violette studied Charlotte’s face for another second, and then touched her arm with an elegant finger. “I don’t have to stay in your room if you don’t wish me to. Jean-Baptiste offered me the guest room if I preferred. Your taste in decorating is, of course, much more appealing to me than his penchant for dark leather upholstery and antler chandeliers.”
Charlotte couldn’t keep herself from laughing. Reaching out toward Violette, she took her hand and stood to face the ancient adolescent. “I’m sorry. This is just a really hard time for me and Charles. I consider these kindred my family, and the fact that we have to leave them during a crisis is literally killing me.”
I stifled a smile. Charlotte noticed and grinned. “Okay, not literally. You know what I mean.”
Violette leaned toward Charlotte and, opening her arms, gracefully wrapped them around her. “Everything will be okay. Arthur and I will look after your kindred for you, and the present difficulties will be over before you know it.”
Charlotte returned her hug, a bit stiffly since the younger girl was standing as if she was wearing a corset. But it seemed like peace had been made between the two. I couldn’t help but wonder if Charles was faring as well.
THREE
ONE OF THE BALLROOM WINDOWS SWUNG OPEN, and Vincent leaned out looking like an old-fashioned movie star in his vintage tuxedo. “Ladies, it’s almost midnight. And I, for one, hoped not to have to resort to kissing Gaspard when the clock strikes twelve.” He grinned and looked over his shoulder at the older man, who rolled his eyes and shook his head in despair.
Violette, Charlotte, and I made our way back to the room just as the guests began the New Year’s countdown. The air practically crackled with excitement. Considering how many times some of these people had celebrated New Year’s Eve, I found it intriguing that they hadn’t tired of it long ago. Humans saw it as the beginning of a fresh new year: one of only several dozen that fate would allot them. But with revenants’ unlimited number of fresh new beginnings, it was curious that they would treat this as a special day.
Vincent was waiting for me by the door and swept me into his arms as the counting continued. “So what do you think of our first New Year’s Eve together?” he asked, looking at me like I was his own personal miracle. Which, funnily, was exactly how I felt about him.
“I’ve had so many firsts lately, it feels like I swapped my old life for a brand-new one,” I said.