Page 45 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Florentine

S urprisingly, Daniel chose to run instead of taking to the sky in his natural form.

But I guess shifting now would mean leaving his clothes on the sidewalk and helping me find Dad in his birthday suit.

I would probably make the same choice if I was him.

For a second I think we’re going to make it without any trouble, but then the bird from earlier jumps from the roof of the building right next to mine, his gun in hand and pointing at us.

I don’t hear any sirens to signal anyone is coming for us, but I still know we’re running out of time.

Without stopping his course, Daniel pulls a knife from his pocket and throws it at the man.

It lodges itself in his forearm, just above the hand holding the gun, and the bird drops the gun as if it was on fire. We have just a few seconds before he retrieves his other gun and starts shooting.

“Milton, open the jet and program the Sacré Coeur as our destination,” I mutter under my breath while I change course.

I’m not dying today, neither is Daniel.

I rush in the direction of the shooting bird and that seems to throw him off, because weirdly, the bullets stop flying around us.

But then his brain seems to comprehend the situation, and he lowers his gun and shoots at my legs.

I feel something hit my thigh, and then a second or two later, another bullet ends its course in my shin.

I lose my balance, but it’s over. I’m as close to the bird as I need to be.

I collapse to the ground at the bird’s feet and try not to look at the blood that seeps from my legs in a gruesome display.

The bird looks down at me like he just won the lottery.

Quickly, I take a look at Daniel. He’s holding himself against the jet and blood is pooling on the fabric of his shirt. Luckily, it only looks like it’s coming from his shoulder.

Nothing that can be fatal.

“You’re done. They’re coming,” he says triumphantly.

I don’t answer anything. Instead, I look at him pathetically, as if I also believe that we’re done and that we can’t be saved.

I crawl the final thirty meters between me and him and grab his left shoe with both hands.

“Please,” I beg, channeling my inner Amélie—she’s always been good at looking at people like a sad puppy, getting away with way more than she should. Maybe this way he’ll think I’m helpless. I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

The bird laughs and the sound of it gives off evil queen vibes from old animation movies.

Laugh all you want, you prick.

“Too late,” he says with a smile that would give me chills if I didn’t know what I’m about to do.

“Milton,” I say without a sound, turning my face down again so the shapeshifter doesn’t read my lips, “pump the voltage to the max, and don’t stop until I say so. Now.”

My fingers slip under the hem of the bird’s pants and touch his ankle without his notice.

When he realizes I’ve grabbed his ankle, though, it’s too late for him and my gloves have been activated for a couple of seconds already, and shock waves of electricity keep entering his body.

It takes another few seconds before the electricity coursing through his body starts doing some damage to his heart and the bird drops his second gun to grab at his chest as if he can soothe the pain in his heart by doing so.

“You’re right, it’s too late,” I tell him before I see his face crumple with resignation. He knows he’s seconds away from dying here.

“You bitch,” he says with a groan as his breath stutters and he collapses to the ground next to me.

Eyes open, unseeing, chest still. The sight is unnerving.

“You can stop now,” I tell Milton and immediately the tingling at my fingers ceases.

I should dwell on the fact I’ve taken a life for the first time in my life, but instead I retch and empty whatever was still in my stomach.

I guess I did eat that chocolate cake.

I wipe my mouth with my sleeves and try to sit up. The bullets in my legs make me scream from pain, but I grit my teeth.

If I don’t do something, it’s going to get worse.

“How long?”

Milton doesn’t question what I mean and answers immediately.

“Fourteen seconds.”

Fuck. How did that happen so quickly?

Well, at least it means we still have a chance to not end up in one of the birds’ dungeons.

“Daniel, can you help me walk?” I ask as I stand slowly and painfully.

Daniel doesn’t answer me, but he’s already next to me, his arm around my waist and carrying most of my weight.

We barely reach the jet when I hear the siren coming. Daniel probably heard them before me.

He helps me in and then I lock the door, get us airborne, and add the bulletproof layer to the windows.

“You could have done that from Blois,” Daniel exclaims without me understanding what he means.

“We didn’t need a bulletproof jet,” I tell him as I raise my head to look at him.

That’s when I realize why he’s saying that. The bulletproof screen makes the window dark gray. You can’t really see what’s happening outside, and that means we could be flying or just hovering over the ground and it would look the same.

I sigh.

“Do you know of a good doctor?” I ask him instead of arguing.

“No, sorry,” he tells me as I see him fishing for the bullet inside of his shoulder.

I think I’m going to be sick again.

He has a look of triumph on his face when he finally pulls that damn piece of metal out of his shoulder.

We’re lucky they’re only standard bullets and not the kind I build myself. I would hate to have to fish out a bullet that keeps traveling inside my body, especially since they’re often coded to travel until it reaches a vital organ.

The birds wanted us alive though, which is probably why the hits on us were strategically placed—me on my legs so I stopped running and Daniel on his shoulder because …

He partially shifts under my eyes, and I see why his shoulder was targeted.

In the small space of the jet, a fully developed human-sized bat wing looks even bigger, but that’s not what catches my eye.

It’s the bright red stain at the base of it.

The bird bastard perfectly aimed at Daniel so he couldn’t shift while the bullet was still inside at the risk of causing more damage.

Suddenly, I feel like I did the right thing when I killed him .

Maybe I’ll change my mind and overthink my actions in a few minutes, but right this minute, I can say I don’t mind the blood on my hands.

Well, I mean, I don’t mind the fact I killed the bird, the blood on my hands on the other hand, is currently all of mine and we need to hurry because I feel myself slowly slipping from consciousness.

I can’t keep pressing on both of my wounds at the same time. It feels like when I have finally managed to stop the flow of one, the other bleeds even more and I’m losing way too much blood.

It won’t take long before I pass out and if Daniel doesn’t know any doctor, I’m screwed.

We can’t very well go to a human hospital. They’re probably already monitoring those.

I can’t remember the last time I needed a doctor.

I can’t even remember when the last time was that I saw a doctor other than at the hospital.

Wait.

I do.

It wasn’t for me, of course, but I do remember when I saw a doctor last.

In Notre Dame. Twice in a row, because Léandre had a damn chip in his brain.

I program Notre Dame inside the jet holo-puter and sag against the bench.

It’s going to need some deep cleaning once we’re done with it.

“Ask Cassiopé, she owes me one,” I tell Daniel, because I feel myself slipping from reality and I don’t know how long I’m going to remain conscious. He needs to know in case I don’t have the strength to utter those words when we arrive.

“Shit, he’s really going to kill me,” Daniel mutters very lowly, but I still hear it.

“Why would he kill you?” I try to ask, but I’m mumbling and I’m not even sure I make sense to anyone but myself.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hear him say again, but all the light has been sucked out of my vision and the world is starting to feel like wading through cotton.

I feel the door open when we arrive more than I see it. The light is barely more than what it was with all the bulletproof screens in place, but the fresh air hits me like a slap.

I’m cold and now I’m getting even colder.

But it’s also all I need to regain some small piece of consciousness.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Daniel begs in my ear as I feel him tug me against him to carry me into Notre Dame.

The light dims again and I feel my teeth chattering against each other as my jaw can’t stop clicking with the shivers wracking my body.

I don’t have long left.

I feel it.

I’m barely there anymore.

I only have two regrets. One is not being able to say goodbye to my sisters, and the other is not having saved Brice before I went.

And on that last thought, my mind completely blacks out.