Amy Plum-Revenants 02 Until I Die by Amy Plum

Author:Amy Plum
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9780748128662
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2012-05-02T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

MY PHONE RANG ON TUESDAY MORNING AT THE exact second my alarm went off. I checked the caller’s name and then answered. “So, Mr. Punctual, how are you feeling?” I asked.

“Alive. Again. And I’ve been waiting for an hour to call. Didn’t want to wake you before your alarm.” His voice was like a long, cool drink of water to my affection-parched soul.

I smiled. “I don’t have time to stop by before school. And you’re probably too weak to move. In fact, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. But I looked in a mirror, and I look normal again.”

“Well, that’s a huge relief.”

“I know, but it doesn’t mean I can’t stop. Just four more weeks to go, Kate. So I was calling to say … I won’t be able to see you tonight.” My heart dropped. After Sunday’s heartfelt conversation, I so wanted to see him in the flesh. To know that what we had talked about hadn’t just been a dream.

“Can’t you do whatever it is tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, Kate. It’s really important that I get to it as soon as I’m able.”

I was starting to feel at the end of my rope with this whole project. “What do you want me to say?” I snapped, and then sighed. “Please try to be safe, whatever you do.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Vincent’s voice was apologetic.

“I don’t understand, Vincent.”

“You will soon. Everything’s going to be fine—I swear.”

Yeah. It will. Because I’m going to find another way.

My mood remained dark for the entire school day, and as soon as my last class was over, I booked it to the flea market. It took me a full hour, counting the bus, and the two Métro changes, but finally I was there, standing in front of the little green shop, which was … closed.

I had looked it up on the internet, and there was no listing for anything called Le Corbeau. I even Google-mapped it, sifting through the businesses listed in the area near its address. I could see the front of the building on the street view, but there was no mention of the store. It didn’t show up in Yellow Pages searches for religious items. There was no trace of it online.

I had wanted to call ahead of time to make sure they were open—always a good thing to do in France. Shop owners are capricious, opening and closing at their whim. There had been many occasions when I’d schlepped halfway across town only to find locked doors and a sign reading, Temporarily closed. Or no sign at all. Like now.

However, the lights were on in the vintage clothes store. An old-fashioned bell jingled above my head as I opened the door, and I got a whoosh of air in the face that smelled like the inside of old suitcases. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” came a voice from behind a rack of crinolines. The woman who’d been outside smoking the other day stuck her head over the rack and peered at me expectantly.

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