Read Die Once More for Free Online Page B

Everything’s going according to plan: Ava and Jules, plus one of our kindred accompanying,” Gold says, looking smug.
    â€œThey’re coming!” I hear Gaspard yell in French on the other end, resulting in a scream that could only be Charlotte in freak-out mode. Now there’s no way of backing out, I think, my heart dropping.
    Gold turns away from us to continue the conversation with Gaspard, and I look toward Ava, who wears an expression of feigned boredom. “Is he always this pushy?” I ask.
    Ava crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “You have no idea.”

SIX
    THE PLANE TRIP IS INTERMINABLE. THERE ARE times when I wish revenants could sleep, and this is definitely one of them. Gold chartered a four-person jet, which would normally be sufficient, but the way things are going, I wish we were on a jumbo, with rows and rows of empty seats between us.
    Once he got over the shock that he’d been tapped to go to Paris, Faust had just enough time to get his hands on a French guidebook, and began practicing phrases on me as soon as the plane took off.
    We’re two hours into the flight and he’s still on, “Où est la gare?”
    â€œFaust, you’re not going to need a train station,” I moan.
    He nods and flips through to another page. “Voulez-vous dîner avec moi ce soir?”
    â€œWhat is this?” I ask, and pluck the book out of his grasp. The chapter is entitled, “Relationships and Dating.” I toss it back tohim, and, leaning my head back against the headrest, wearily respond, “You’re not going to pick up a French girl by asking her out to dinner. You’ve got to begin with compliments. Start with something safe: her eyes. Her smile.”
    I feel little darts of hatred piercing my skin, and turn to where Ava sits ensconced behind a laptop. She has been pointedly ignoring us the whole time, but now she’s giving me a look of unadulterated disgust.
    â€œWhat?” I ask, throwing my hands up in frustration. I don’t understand what this woman’s problem is with me.
    She just shakes her head and goes back to typing. A pencil is tucked behind her ear, lending her appearance the slightest hint of naughty librarian. Interesting. Stop it, Jules, I chide. This girl is dangerous .
    I look back to Faust, who has jotted down a note on the dating page, Eyes. Smile . He closes the book and taps it impatiently with his pencil.
    â€œSpeaking of smiling, I don’t get why you’re not supposed to smile in public,” he said, leaning back in his seat, his hands folded behind his head, displaying triceps that rival Ambrose’s.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” I ask.
    â€œIt’s in the etiquette rules chapter,” he says.
    â€œWhy on earth are you worried about French rules of etiquette?”
    â€œIt’s my first time outside the United States, besides Mexico,” he responds. “I want to do this right.”
    I sigh. “You’ll probably be with kindred most of the time, butokay. What does it say?”
    I reach for the book, but he puts a hand out to stop me. “No, no. I’ve got it memorized.” He tips his head back, stares at the ceiling, and begins counting on his index. “One. When you go into a shop, say ‘ Bonjour, monsieur ’ or ‘ Bonjour, madame ’ as soon as you step through the door, and ‘ au revoir ’ when you leave.”
    He glances over at me. I nod. “Common courtesy,” I say.
    He adds his middle finger. “Two. You’re expected to order one drink per hour in a café—you can’t just sit there all day on one drink.”
    â€œThat’s an approximation,” I say, “but yeah, it’s kind of like renting a table.”
    He nods, satisfied. “There are about ten others. They all pretty much made sense. Except for the smiling one. It said you’re not supposed to walk around with a smile