Page 17 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

I t takes another two days for all hell to rain down on us.

It arrives in the form of a power couple at the door of Notre Dame.

Demanding entry and a meeting with Elhyor.

They’ve been at the front door, on the parvis for the past twenty minutes, and everyone is gathered in Elhyor’s office. By everyone, I mean me, Elhyor, Angie, Léandre and—sadly—Pierre.

The latter being of the advice that we should let them in and see what they have to say. He says that it might be possible that they want a new beginning and are just here to set a healthy basis.

I call bullshit.

Shoot.

I call bullshoot, I mean.

I wonder if the couple came just for show—knowing the previous Michael died on our front step and that it was, like everything else, mediatized—or if they have ulterior motives.

I don’t know either of them, and even if I would love to give them the benefit of the doubt, the way Angie and Léandre painted them doesn’t give me high hopes.

I just hope it’s just for show because I don’t think I could deal with any additional drama right now. Not with my father still not waking up.

Not with him still looking like he’s peacefully sleeping now that all of his wounds and cuts have started healing correctly.

“It’s just the two of them,” Elhyor chimes in. “What bad could happen with just the two of them?”

I’m partial to them starting the apocalypse, but I shut up this time.

I know that my dad would side with Elhyor on that question, but he would also accompany him to that meeting, and I don’t know if that privilege extends to me.

“You should accept that meeting. Not inside, though. I would post people on the roof because there might be only two of them on the parvis, but who says they don’t have warriors hiding in the streets just out of sight?

Luc can double check, but we know how to bypass their cameras.

So, it stands to reason that they know how to do it, too.

If you haven’t forgotten how they overtook all screens two days ago for their announcement, you can’t even rule out that they’re running their own videos directly on our feeds.

So, yes, meet them outside, post guards on the roof and send some in the streets around Notre Dame to patrol. ”

When I’m done explaining my point of view, four pairs of eyes are staring at me.

“What? I don’t read only smut,” I say with a shrug.

That seems to relax everyone, and in the end, everyone agrees to my proposition.

Elhyor goes with Pierre, though, not me.

Instead, I’m right behind the tall double doors near the parvis, eavesdropping.

“What took you so long?” Ambrose says—maybe I should start calling him Michael, though.

Elhyor doesn’t seem bothered by the tone the dove-shifter just used.

“I deal with my house the way I deem it necessary,” Elhyor answers with a calm and even voice.

Angie is next to me, and I can see in the way her jaw is contracting that she doesn’t like one bit how her brother is talking to her husband. But she’s not there with them, so she has to keep her displeasure to herself if we want to hear whatever is about to go down.

I find Elhyor’s voice soothing, but to my surprise, it seems to have the opposite effect on Ambrose, who is contracting his fists at his sides until Gabrielle cups his hand with her own and makes it stop. Or at least make one hand stop.

“I want my father’s remains, and the head of whoever killed him.”

Ambrose doesn’t even pretend to be nice. He starts directly with the heart of what he came here for, it seems.

I hear Angie exhale heavily, and when I turn my face in her direction, I can see that she’s twisting her hands together. It almost looks like she’s imagining strangling him with her bare hands.

Knowing her, I have no doubt that’s what she’s doing.

“The best I can do is tell you where he is buried,” Elhyor tells Ambrose, staying calm and collected.

I don’t know how he’s doing that. I might not have been rash like Angie, but it would definitely show that I dislike the guy. Or at least his ideas.

“That’s not enough,” Gabrielle cut in.

I have the awful inkling of an idea that they already know who killed Michael and that they’re trying to toy with Elhyor.

Except Elhyor has been at the head of Notre Dame for longer than those two nitwits have been on Earth, and I think the only person who could manage to get under his skin is eavesdropping with me right now.

“It’ll have to do,” Elhyor says. “He came with his army to attack my home. I had every right to dispose of anyone who trespassed.”

“You came to Versailles first and destroyed part of the ceiling in the north hall,” Ambrose snaps back.

“I had my reasons,” Elhyor says calmly with an almost imperceptible shrug.

He’s not sorry about going there or even destroying part of the monument, and that shows for sure. That also seems to piss Gabrielle and Ambrose even more. She doesn’t show it as much, but I can see it in the way she keeps flicking her hair behind her ear more and more forcefully.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” Ambrose snaps, his voice getting so loud that even a human could now eavesdrop on the group on the parvis.

It really shows that Ambrose is barely more than a kid. He might have been groomed for the job, but he lacks the patience of an experienced leader.

“That is all I’m willing to give,” Elhyor says, and this time I feel like maybe Ambrose is about to explode.

“Hand over my sister, or you’re going to regret it,” Ambrose sneers.

Here it is. They knew exactly who killed Michael when they came here. They just didn’t want to make it look like they wanted their own blood dead.

“Your sister is my wife now, in case you forgot, and I’m not going to hand you either her or her head, so I encourage you to change your tone and your demands,” Elhyor responds and this time there’s a bit of his dragon showing when he growls the last word.

Pierre seems to be uncomfortable with Elhyor’s answer, and I’m wondering what’s putting this sneaky bastard on edge.

“I can compromise and have a team dig up Michael from his grave,” Elhyor adds, “but that is the extent of what I’m willing to do.”

“He should be lucky he got a grave, and that we didn’t just dump him in a ditch,” Angie says next to me as Gabrielle starts to talk. I only catch the end of her sentence and the freezing cold tone she uses to give out her words.

“I promise you that if you don’t regret those words, she will regret them. ”

I can see the glare on Ambrose’s face from where I’m standing, looking through the tiny sliver of the opening of the doors, but what makes me stop breathing is what I’m seeing on Gabrielle’s face.

The evil smile that graces her lips freezes my blood in my veins. Ambrose looks pissed off, but she looks like Elhyor played exactly in her hand, and she can’t wait to show him how he miscalculated what was to come.

Dread pools in my guts, and I have a feeling that we won’t like what she has planned.

“This isn’t over,” Ambrose says before Gabrielle clutches his hands in a way that makes it look like she wants to support him, but that I think is just too eager to be believable.

“We’ve heard enough,” Gabrielle tells Ambrose. “Let’s go home.”

They start walking away and a car flies from an adjacent street and stops just in front of Notre Dame.

“Just remember one thing, dragon. You’re almost the last of your kind. Do you really want to die for her?” Gabrielle says over her shoulder as she climbs in the car.

She doesn’t wait for an answer and closes the door, letting silence reign on the parvis in the wake of their departure.

What the hell just happened?