Die for Me by Amy Plum

you died in a fire,” I said, turning to Ambrose.
    He nodded at me with a little smile, urging me on.
    â€œSo how can you be here now?”
    â€œWell, I’m glad we’re starting with the easy questions,” he said, stretching his powerful arms and then leaning toward me. “The answer would be . . . because we’re zombies!” and he let out a horrible groan, stretching his mouth open and baring his teeth as he curled his hands into claws.
    Seeing my terrified expression, Ambrose began cracking up and slapping his knee with his hand. “Just kidding,” he cackled, and then, calming down, looked at me sedately. “But no, seriously. We’re zombies.”
    â€œWe are not zombies,” said Charlotte, her voice rising with annoyance.
    â€œThe correct term, I believe, would be, ah, undead,” said Gaspard in a wavering voice.
    â€œGhosts,” said Charles, grinning mischievously.
    â€œStop scaring her, you guys,” said Vincent. “Jules?”
    â€œKate, it’s a lot more complicated than that. We call ourselves revenants .”
    I looked around at them, one by one.
    â€œRuh-vuh-nahnt,” Jules pronounced slowly, obviously thinking I didn’t understand.
    â€œI know the word. It means ‘ghost’ in French.” My voice shook. I am sitting in a room of monsters, I thought. Defenseless. But I couldn’t afford to freak out now. What would they do to me if I did? What would they do to me even if I didn’t? Unless they were the kind of monsters who could erase people’s memories, I was in on their secret now.
    â€œIf you go back to the root of the word, it actually means ‘one who returns’ or ‘one who comes back,’” offered Gaspard pedantically.
    Though the room was warm, I found myself shivering. They all stared at me expectantly, as if I were their group science project: Would I blow up or just kind of fizzle out? Charles hissed, “She’s going to freak and run away, like I said.”
    â€œShe’s not going to freak and run away,” argued Charlotte.
    â€œOkay, everybody out,” came Vincent’s voice, more forceful than it had been so far. “No offense, but I’d rather talk to Kate myself. You guys are making a mess of the whole thing. Thank you for your votes of confidence, but please . . . go.”
    â€œImpossible.” The room fell silent as everyone stared at Gaspard. His voice lost its authority and he began picking at his fingernail. “I mean to say, if I may,” he stuttered self-consciously, “Vincent, you cannot take over the task of informing the human, I mean Kate, yourself. We are all affected by this breach. We all need to be aware of what information she has . . . and doesn’t have. And I will have to give a full account to Jean-Baptiste afterward. Before she is allowed to leave.”
    My tenseness eased just a fraction. They’re going to let me leave. That knowledge became my light at the end of the terrifyingly dark tunnel.
    â€œI might, ah, also point out that you’re too weak to even sit up,” Gaspard continued. “In your condition, how can you be expected to handle the explanation of something of such importance to us all?”
    The silence lasted a full minute while everyone watched Vincent. Finally he sighed. “Okay. I understand. But for God’s sake, try to behave yourselves.” He looked over to me and said, “Kate, please come sit with me. At least it will give me an illusion of having some control over the situation.”
    Getting up, I walked to the bed and watched as Vincent effortfully lifted his arm and grasped my hand in his. The instant our skin touched, I felt the same peace that I had when Charlotte touched me in her room. I was awash in a tide of calm and safety, as if nothing bad could happen so long as Vincent held my hand. This time I knew it had to be some