Die Once More Read Online Free PDF

ivory envelope, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, walks to thewindow. He looks out over the ink-black river toward the hushed lights of the city.
    I set my tea down and pull out a creamy card engraved in silvery-blue ink.

    Charlotte Violaine Lorieux et Ambrose Bates
    ont la joie de vous faire part de leur mariage
    le samedi 28 mai
    A l’église de la Sainte-Chapelle, Paris

    So Ambrose and Charlotte are getting married—I check the date—exactly three months after our epic battle with the numa. The battle Ambrose had to miss because of a wound suffered in a skirmish, just hours before. And the battle where I helped Kate drag Charlotte’s dead body to the side of the arena so that it wouldn’t be scooped up by numa and burned.
    I knew, of course, of their newly kindled love. Gaspard has sent me one letter per week—handwritten and mailed through the post—updating me on the goings-on of the Paris kindred.
    And Ambrose phoned me once on the cell phone I was issued by my new kindred. He told me he had proposed. That Charlotte had accepted. Of course. Any idiot except Ambrose would have known she’s been in love with him for decades. But for Ambrose this love was a revelation, and the more he talked about it, the wider the pit inside me grew, its emptiness swallowing all my words until finally he just told me he loved me and that they all missed me, and he hung up.
    I never wanted love. Until Kate. And now it eats at me from inside, reminding me of how stupid I’ve been. How shallow. All that time wasted, when I could have been happy like Ambrose and Charlotte. Like Vincent and Kate. But what if Kate was the one? She’s the only girl who has ever made me long for permanence. What if she was the one, and I could have done more to let her know? What if I had been honest sooner?
    No, she and Vincent were made for each other. That much is clear. I’m just cursed to want what is not meant to be. But damn my heart for switching on—finally—for the wrong person. Now it is an open door, standing wide for nothing . . . for no one . . . and I don’t know how to close it again.
    I look up and see that Gold is waiting for a response. “Um, no. I don’t really think I’ll make it to the wedding. Too soon. And I’ve got my work here.”
    â€œWrong answer,” says Gold. He looks back out the window at his city, before ambling back to me, authority radiating from him. This is his world, and has been for more than a century. I’m just a blip on his radar. Passing through.
    â€œWe need you to go.”
    â€œWhat?” I exclaim. “What’s that supposed to mean? If you want to go to the wedding, I’m sure the bride and groom wouldn’t mind if you took my place.”
    Gold looks back at me, the picture of patience. “When you joined us, you agreed to work for the good of the clan. No one can deny the fact that you’ve been doing more than your share of patrolling. But we have other jobs that need to be done, and inthis case, you’re the one to do it.”

FIVE
    I STAND FROZEN IN DISBELIEF WHILE GOLD PICKS up my jacket and throws it at me. “Here, let’s walk, and I’ll explain along the way.” He plucks the invitation from my hand and pockets it, while I reach to grab my weapon belt.
    â€œYou won’t need that,” he says dismissively. “We’re not patrolling.”
    â€œYou never know,” I say, and put it on anyway, slipping a short-sword into the holster before shrugging on the leather jacket, which is cut long enough to hide steel. I leave my gun on the table. I carry it when I need to but don’t enjoy how it feels: There’s something dead about it, unlike the almost-living vibration a sword emits.
    We walk out of the Warehouse into a breezy May night, the midnight moon scattering disks of gold on the surface of the wind-rippled water. Heading away from the