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us?”
“The mobile New Year’s party scared them off,” Ambrose responded.
“Listen, Kate,” Vincent said, peering warily down the darkened street. “Jean-Baptiste was right in saying that we don’t know when the numa will strike. And with whatever it was back there following us around, I’m wondering if maybe you could use a chaperone once in a while. I have some projects that JB has asked me to take care of”—he exchanged a look with Ambrose—“so I can’t be around all the time.”
“A chaperone ?” I said with a different kind of alarm.
“What’s wrong with a guardian angel? Or two?” Ambrose asked. “You date a revenant, Katie-Lou, you better count on being followed around.”
“Well, if I’m not hanging out with you moving targets, I’m not of much interest to the baddies, am I?” I retorted. Walking around with my boyfriend was one thing. The idea of being trailed around Paris by other revenants was something completely different. I shook my head. “Do I get a good-night kiss or would that interfere with your chaperoning ?”
I lifted my face to Vincent and he obliged with a slow, tender kiss that made my body turn to marshmallow.
“Bye, Katie-Lou.” Ambrose gave me a little salute and turned to leave.
“Good-bye,” I called as the two revenants walked away from me into the dappled moonlit shadows. When they were out of sight, I turned to follow my sister up to our grandparents’ apartment.
Georgia had already stripped off her party dress and replaced it with an oversize T-shirt by the time I got to her room. “What’s the deal with the two-man escort?” she asked.
“Three,” I responded. “Some guy named Henri was floating around above us. Vincent’s paranoid about me being leapt upon by bad zombies. With their leader gone, the numa are in hunker-down mode, and the revenants are waiting for a surprise attack.”
“Disappearing numa sounds like a good thing to me.” She leaned in toward her mirror and wiped her lipstick off with a tissue. “Personally, I’m happy I haven’t run into a murderous killer since, well … since you chopped my ex’s head off with a sword.” Although my sister was playing lighthearted, a shadow of fear still lurked behind her practiced carefree demeanor.
“Vincent’s talking about giving me a bodyguard when he’s not around.”
“Cool!” Georgia said, eyes wide with expectation.
“ Nyet to the coolness,” I responded. “I don’t want someone following me everywhere I go. That’s so … weird.”
“Don’t think ‘following.’ Think ‘accompanying.’ And what difference would it make? You’re already with Vincent or one of his friends on a pretty consistent basis.”
I studied her face. She wasn’t saying it as a criticism. For my super-social sister, it was normal—even preferable—to have people surrounding you 24-7.
“Remember who you’re talking to, Georgia? It’s me. Your one and only sibling. Who is not queen of the Paris nightlife and actually likes to spend some of her waking hours alone.”
“Well then, just tell Vincent you don’t want a babysitter. He worships you as is. Your word should be his command.”
I rolled my eyes. If only. “He actually used the word chaper-one .”
“Vincent’s so hot when he talks like a grandpa,” she joked. “Next thing you know, he’ll ask Papy if he can start courting you, then everything will be downhill after that. False teeth. Saggy Y-fronts.”
“Eww!” I laughed, fake-punching my sister on the arm.
From somewhere inside her purse, Georgia’s phone started buzzing. She pulled it out and began texting. Then she looked up at me and said, “By the way, Katie-Bean, you look gorgeous in that dress.”
I leaned over and hugged my glamorous, social butterfly of a sister and left her to continue her New Year’s Eve socializing.

FOUR
     
    BEING NEW YEAR’S DAY, THE GARE DE LYON TRAIN station was practically abandoned. Kamikaze pigeons soared in eccentric looping flight