If I Should Die by Amy Plum Page B

can’t say no to that. And even if you do . . .”
    Okay, Kate! You win, Vincent conceded . But I’m going with you, too.
    Satisfied, I turned to Bran. “When can I go?”
    â€œYou will have to wait a few hours—until nightfall. The entrance is in a place that is all too visible during the day.” Although Bran had made it clear that a revenant couldn’t enter his family’s archives, he seemed grateful that I had volunteered. He trusts me , I realized, the thought filling me with inexplicable delight.
    â€œI’m dying of curiosity. Where is it?” I asked. I knew Paris like the back of my hand, and couldn’t imagine where that type of secret place would be hidden.
    â€œIt has been in Paris since Roman times,” Bran responded, “and was built as an offshoot of the dwellings of the regular guérisseurs —those healers who dealt with humans, I mean. Where would a Roman soldier likely go for healing and relaxation?” he quizzed me with a tired smile.
    â€œTo the Roman baths,” Gaspard and I responded together.
    Bran nodded. “My family’s archives are located in a cave beneath the Roman baths, underneath the Cluny Museum.” And with a smile he added, “Hidden underneath one of the city’s busiest neighborhoods: the Latin Quarter.”
    â€œI will fetch Arthur and Ambrose,” Gaspard said. “If you could brief them on the access to your family’s archives, we will send them to guard Kate.” He turned to me. “Perhaps you would like to replace Arthur in your sister’s fight training?”
    Now that we had a plan, I wanted to get started . . . not waste the next few hours waiting for nightfall. Come on , I heard Vincent say. I would hate to miss a chance at seeing Georgia with a sword.
    â€œThat’s because there’s no possible way she can chop any of your body parts off,” I said, feeling buoyed by Vincent’s joking mood. Although he wasn’t letting on, he must also hope that Bran’s family secrets contained a solution . . . or at least a clue . . . to escape his disembodied state.
    â€œI, however,” I continued, “am in grave bodily danger. Georgia with a sword . . .”
    Â . . . might be dangerous enough to actually be of some use against the numa , Vincent said, the voice in my head trailing off in a chuckle as we headed downstairs to the armory.

FIFTEEN
    â€œVERY WELL DONE,” ARTHUR SAID AS HIS SWORD clattered to the armory floor. Georgia smiled and, placing one hand on her hip, circled her sword in a victorious flourish, causing Arthur to duck to avoid grievous bodily injury.
    â€œHi, Katie-Bean!” she yelled, spotting me coming down the stairs. “Guess what? I totally rock at sword fighting! Just wait till all those haters see me do this—” she said, lunging in a crazed Three Musketeers move, forcing Arthur to skip nimbly out of the way.
    â€œVincent’s back!” I announced, powerless against the wide smile spread across my face. “Or at least his ghost is. Violette’s freed him for three days.”
    â€œOh, Kate, that’s wonderful!” Georgia squealed and, dropping her sword, ran over to throw herself on me. “And even better,” I continued, once she stopped jumping up and down and let go of me, “Bran has heard of wandering spirits like Vincent getting their bodies back. I mean, it’s a story that he heard a long time ago, but they’re going to start researching it right away.” I didn’t mention that I was going to go in search of that story in a couple of hours. Georgia would definitely want to join me.
    â€œThat’s very good news,” Arthur commented. “I can’t wait to talk to Vincent myself.”
    â€œI just sent Ambrose up to the library to meet with Jean-Baptiste,” I told Arthur. “Your ‘presence is