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Stops eating. Starts acting like his old self pre-Kate: robotic, emotionless. He tries to build a wall around his heart, but the hollow look in his eyes speaks the truth. His heart isn’t even there to protect. It’s with Kate, and she’s gone.
    She leaves an empty hole behind her. There was this feeling of optimism and joy in the house when she was around that’s now turned into a void. Like Vincent, I feel hollow. Sad. And as the days pass, I begin to realize I’ve grown to care for Kate. Not as my best friend’s girlfriend, but as someone in and of herself. And I realize I miss her.

EIGHT
    I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME. IT’S Vincent who’s lost his girlfriend, not me. But I feel a sense of loss all the same. It’s not like Kate has been around all that long, but the times that I did see her really left a mark on me.
    Out of sight, out of mind , I tell myself. And then I do the thing that makes the most sense—I call a girl. Nothing like a beautiful woman to wrap your arms around to chase the blues away. But even an evening with lovely Portuguese Carli ends up with me walking home afterward and lying around staring at the ceiling, feeling strangely unsettled until morning.
    Vincent is punishing himself. He barely eats. Whether in training or, on a couple of occasions, facing numa, he fights like a madman. He doesn’t allow himself to look up whenever we pass her house. Once Charlotte, volant, told him that she saw Kate a few blocks away coming toward us, and he turned around and headed the opposite direction.
    One night we’re walking around Belleville, doing surveillance in Geneviève’s neighborhood, and I ask him how he’s doing. Thinking he might need to talk about it. He turns to me with empty eyes and says, “You were right before. It was stupid of me to even try to be with Kate. The only thing that makes me feel any better is knowing that she’s better off without me. She’ll meet some human guy and fall for him and lead a happy, normal life. It’s what she deserves.” The words pass through his lips, but it’s like a specter speaking. Vincent is no longer there.
    I thank the gods that I’ve never fallen for someone the way he has for Kate. But though I applaud my good sense in managing my love life, something in me feels almost jealous of the deepness of feeling Vincent has for her. Besides the fierce loyalty I feel for Vincent and my kindred, I’ve never felt that much emotion for anyone. And secretly, I’m glad Kate’s no longer around because something in me fears that I, too, would have become more attached.
    I don’t know what to do for my friend, so I just make sure I’m as present as possible. Not like he notices that I, or anyone else, is around. But I want to be there in case he ever decides he needs me.
    The only thing that breaks the fog of sadness hanging over La Maison is Charles’s erratic behavior. He disappears for long periods of time, and even his twin doesn’t know what he’s up to.
    So Charlotte and I trail him and discover that he’s stalking a human. For hours every day, following around this woman who turns out to be the mother of the child who died in the boat accident. The one he couldn’t save. He watches where she goes, and slips into her building to leave anonymous flowers and gifts in front of her door.
    His sense of guilt outweighs his self-control, and though Charlotte, Ambrose, and I each speak to him individually—trying to talk some sense into him—he’s sliding down a slippery slope and about to hurtle face-first into danger.
    The last straw for Charlotte is when Charles attends the child’s funeral. She tells JB. After JB puts him on probation, Charles flips out. He yells at everyone that he’s had enough—he wants out. And then he takes off. We search for him the next few days, but we can’t locate him, even with the help of the rest of Paris’s kindred.
    It’s about then that Charlotte overhears Kate’s sister and grandmother at