Free If I Should Die by Amy Plum Page B

Vincent from Violette, and pry any other guérisseur secrets out of him.”
    So, JB and Gaspard were thinking along the same lines as I: Bran might know something that could help Vincent. A little balloon of hope inflated in my chest. I felt like running the rest of the way to La Maison, but Arthur and Ambrose acted like we had all the time in the world.
    We hadn’t walked two blocks when Arthur stopped suddenly and glanced behind us. “Numa,” he said. “Franck says that there were two in the park across from the Mercier home. He didn’t spot them until they started following us.”
    â€œDon’t look back,” Ambrose said, as I did just that. A pair of young guys in hoodies, looking totally normal except for the colorless numa aura encircling them, were turning out of the park and onto the rue du Bac. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were trailing us, and they met my gaze unwaveringly.
    â€œFlight or fight?” Ambrose asked Arthur, smiling widely as he patted the leather sheath strapped to his waist under his long coat.
    An elderly woman supported on the arm of a uniformed home-care worker hobbled slowly past us toward the numa. Arthur raised one eyebrow. “With human witnesses? You’re not really asking me that question,” he responded. “Either we walk faster to avoid a confrontation, or we wait to find out what they want.”
    Arthur and Ambrose turned and pulled together, creating a defensive wall in front of me and Georgia. Just as quickly, the numa turned and crossed the street to walk down a tiny side alley, acting like they had never seen us. But before they were out of sight, one of them turned and, smirking, saluted us.
    â€œOh-kaaay,” Ambrose drawled, staring after the numa in confusion.
    â€œThat was a warning,” Arthur said. “They only wanted us to know they were there. Let’s go.” He held his arm out again, and this time Georgia quickly took it. Ambrose wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder, and we walked at a hurried pace to La Maison.
    Gaspard met us at the front door. “Franck came ahead to inform us of your visiting party,” he said, bustling us all inside. “Who knows what game those numa were playing? We’ve had no word from—or sign of—their leader.”
    We walked into the front hallway and Ambrose lurked just inside the door, arms crossed and a scowl on his face, showing his displeasure at being excluded from the action. I knew what he was feeling; I felt the same.
    â€œGaspard,” I said, taking the older revenant aside, “have you discovered anything from Bran that will help Vincent?”
    â€œUnfortunately, no, Kate. But we aren’t done discussing the matter.”
    I felt my little balloon of hope pop and wither. But I wasn’t done trying. “I know you promised my grandparents to protect us,” I continued. “But I think the best way of doing that is letting me go with Ambrose to join the hunt teams. Two more people could really help the search.”
    Gaspard began shaking his head, but I continued. “You know I can defend myself now. I’ll suit up just in case, though, and promise to stay out of the action if there is any.”
    â€œIf Kate’s going, I’m going, too. I’m sure I can fight just as well as she can,” Georgia piped up.
    Ambrose stared at her bug-eyed for a minute and then started laughing so hard that he was wiping away tears.
    A flush of red crept from my sister’s neck up her face. “What?” she exclaimed.
    â€œSorry, but that’s about the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,” he gasped, playfully punching Georgia on the shoulder. “You . . . fighting? Girl, you crack me up.”
    â€œIn fact, I was going to ask Gaspard today if he would start training me,” she said, stubbornly folding her arms across her chest.
    That sent Ambrose into