Part 16 (1/2)

”We believe there are nine of them.”

Just like the Sisters, I thought.

”But they're vagrant,” Monsieur Orneaux said. ”We don't know where they are. We don't know who they are. All we know is what they want.”

”Which is what?” Noah asked.

When he answered, Monsieur Orneaux looked at me. ”Freedom. They want to be human again. They want their souls back. Not just temporarily, but forever. They want immortality, and they will stop at nothing to find it. That's why they killed Les Neuf Soeurs. To find their secret.”

”What?” I said. ”But why would they kill people if they wanted information?”

”All eight of the Nine Sisters who were found dead had gauze stuffed in their mouths.”

A murmur rose over the cla.s.s. ”Gauze?” I heard someone say. ”Why gauze?”

”I don't understand,” I said, remembering how my parents had died, how Miss LaBarge had died. ”Isn't putting gauze in the mouth a normal way for Monitors to protect themselves from the kiss of an Undead?”

The cla.s.s went silent as everyone stared at me.

”No,” Monsieur Orneaux said. ”It's known as a method of torture that a select few Undead use on their victims.”

”Torture?” I breathed. ”What do you mean?”

”It's a simple gag, made cruel because it uses the victim's own weapon. The Liberum didn't kill the Sisters immediately; they systematically tortured them. The autopsy reports, along with many accounts of the crime scenes, indicate that each of the Sisters endured prolonged suffering before they finally met death.”

”What?” I whispered, my voice so small I barely recognized it. ”But my grandfather said-”

Monsieur Orneaux's eye began to pulse with irritation. ”He was mistaken.” Picking up his notes, he resumed his lecture.

Outside on the window ledge, a pair of pigeons ruffled their feathers and then swooped down to the fountain below. I watched them bathe in the water. Both my parents and Miss LaBarge were found with gauze in their mouths. Did that mean they weren't killed in a normal Monitoring accident, but that they were tortured and then killed?

The bell sounded, signaling the end of the cla.s.s.

I lingered, lost in my thoughts, as everyone filtered out of the room. In the letter from Miss LaBarge's cottage, my mother had said that she'd found a clue that would lead them to the lost girl. Lost girl. My grandfather thought that had been a code word for an Undead, but the more I thought about it, the more I started to believe that she had meant the ninth sister. And Miss LaBarge had clearly been looking for something, too, judging from the clippings and the maps in her cottage.

Was it possible that my parents and Miss LaBarge had discovered eternal life, and were killed because of it? Or maybe they hadn't been killed. After all, hadn't I seen Miss LaBarge at her own funeral? Driving a gray Peugeot down the streets of Montreal? My chest trembled as the impossible suddenly became possible: maybe she and my parents had used the secret and were now immortal.

The sound of a boy clearing his throat thrust me back into the world. Startled, I spun around to find Noah standing by my chair.

”Hi,” he said, his voice deep and smooth like the low notes of a cello.

Today he was the color of apple cider-his wool sweater, his hair. Embarra.s.sed, I averted my eyes toward the window. Outside, the courtyard was crowded with students hanging out around the fountain.

”Why do you always turn pink when I talk to you?”

I felt my face grow hotter. ”There, now I'm red,” I said with a self-conscious smile.

He laughed. ”Do you want to get a coffee?”

”Oh, no,” I said quickly, pulling my backpack over one shoulder. ”I'm really busy.” Even though my only plan was to go to the waterfront and wait for Dante.

”Busy with what?”

”Oh-um-it's something personal.”

”Fair enough,” he said, pulling out my chair with a little bow.

I made my way into the hallway, Noah on my heels. After a moment I turned around. ”You seem like you want to ask me something.”

Noah was closer than I expected, his face inches away from mine. ”Why do you say that?” His breath was warm as it tickled my nose. ”Aren't I allowed to walk in the hallway with you?”

”Of course,” I said, caught off guard.

”But you're right,” he admitted, adjusting his gla.s.ses. ”I wanted to talk to you. Is that so bad?”

I tilted my head, giving him a suspicious look.

”Okay, I'll confess I do have an ulterior motive.”

”Which is?”

”I'll tell you over coffee,” he said.

”I have a boyfriend, you know.”

”And I have a girlfriend,” he said. ”How presumptuous of you to think that I was flirting.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out if he actually had been flirting, or if that's just the way he was.

”So we're both taken,” Noah said. ”Now that that's understood, we can just be friends. And as friends, I'd like to ask you to have a hot beverage with me.”

I couldn't help but smile. ”Okay.”

Before I knew it, we were outside walking around the streets of the old port, just talking and laughing, something I hadn't done in a while. Noah was from Montreal. He'd grown up in Outremont, a residential neighborhood on the other side of Mont Royal. His parents were professors and Monitors. ”They're very opinionated,” Noah stressed. ”They love to argue about politics.”

I didn't tell him much about myself; only the pertinent details: I was from California; after my parents died I moved in with my grandfather in Ma.s.sachusetts. I preferred listening to Noah tell me about his life, which sounded sunny, happy. It reminded me of the way mine had been, a lifetime ago.

Listening to him talk about which cafe had the best coffee in Montreal, I realized that we didn't have to talk about matters of life and death. I could shed that Renee, even if just for a few hours, and stroll down the winding streets and debate whether or not hockey was better than basketball or why Madame Gout insisted on calling Mr. Pollet Monsieur Po-lay.

We were about to turn in to a bakery, when I saw the flash of a woman's face across the street.

I froze as Noah went ahead, the bells on the door ringing as he pushed it open. The woman now had her back to me. I watched as she walked down the sidewalk, waiting for her to turn around.

”Renee?” Noah said from behind me. ”Are you coming?”

The cars stopped as the traffic light changed to red. Slowly, the woman turned, raising her face to mine.

Stunned, I looked away.

”It's her,” I said to Noah, trying to control my voice.