Page 32 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

I ’ve been trying for what feels like an eternity.

And so far, I’ve managed to get my entire leg outside of the cell before I can’t feel it anymore.

I’m still not at the point to feel like I can shift my leg.

I’m not even talking about the extra seconds I’d need to pick the lock.

They both feel like they’re at the tip of my fingers, yet so many kilometers away.

That’s when I hear the sound of steps coming my way.

I have half a mind to shift so that the soldier—yes, because I can hear only one person coming—can’t catch me so easily.

I must take too long to decide because I can already see the shadow of the person coming.

I’m stuck here anyway, so might as well face whoever is coming head first.

I still go to the far end of the cell, where there’s more shadow than light, since there are no windows in this little box of mine.

I feel wings flutter against my throat, and I try to be as careful as I can with the tiny shapeshifter who decided to turn to me for protection.

I’m probably not your best bet, tiny one.

Except it’s not a soldier who comes into view when the person reveals himself.

It’s Léandre.

“What are you doing here?” I ask without thinking.

Yes, I was expecting for someone to come and save me. I knew he had escaped with the wings.

But I thought he would tell Elhyor and forget about me.

I was obviously wrong.

“And I thought you’d be happy to see me for once,” Léandre says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’d really want to know what I did to you in my past life…” he mutters to himself.

I’m not answering that. I. Am. Not.

“I’m happy,” I say instead.

And it’s true. I’m happy when I see him. I’m also sad and mad at myself for being sad and a whole lot of contradicting emotions.

He doesn’t remember our past, but he’s alive.

He is.

But wait.

I know this might not be the right moment to realize something like that… but does Léandre still have the microchip? And did anyone think about the fact it could still be functional?

Because what could be worse than forgetting everyone?

It would be for it to happen again and again.

We need to see Miss F again.

I can’t let that happen again.

I rather like this new Léandre—even if he barely looks at me anymore.

It would be an awful life to get one’s memory erased repetitively.

I need to put those questions on the side, though, because Léandre is looking at me like he is waiting for an answer to a question I don’t remember hearing.

Shoot.

I zoned out.

“You’re like fireflies. Sometimes it feels like you’re all bright and then I look at you and all the light has been drained. You just don’t shine for me,” Léandre says, and my blood freezes.

Fireflies.

Little Luciole.

That’s what Léandre used to call me before.

Does it mean his brain is trying to remember? Or does it just mean his brain still works the same way, and he made the same connections?

I’m pretty sure he didn’t just make the same connection, though.

Because I know Léandre used to call me Little Luciole for my brightness. How smiley I always was and how I could make him smile so easily, too.

I’m none of that anymore.

Maybe it’s just some twisted sign of fate.

No.

I can’t think like that.

I can’t start thinking about giving him another chance—a second chance he would have no clue about.

And something that could bite my ass again.

No.

I can’t.

But I can make sure his brain is never tampered with ever again.

And then…

Not going there now.

Now is not the right time. Now is when we need to get out, and fast.

“I thought you said you could open any lock?” Léandre asks me when he sees my resolve coming back full force.

“I could pick this one in my sleep,” I say cockily. “If I could access it.” I grumble in defeat.

He still hears me.

“Did they give you anti-shifting drugs?” Léandre asks.

I realize that would have been one of the first things one could think, now that we know about them. Humans used them to force shifters into their animal form after Notre Dame’s attack. Léandre doesn’t leave me enough time to explain before he grabs the bars to face me as he talks, though.

He jumps away from them as silently as he can while muttering curses I had no idea he knew under his breath.

“Electric field,” I tell him with a cocky smile. “Sorry you had to learn that the hard way.”

“You’re not even sorry,” he grumbles again. But this time there is a smile on his face, so I know he’s not mad.

He shakes himself and then looks at me.

“You’re gonna have to trust me to get you out, Little Firefly,” he tells me with a wicked smile.

Do I trust Léandre?

As long as it’s not with my heart… Yes, I do.

He shifts his hand into his bird’s claws and looks at me expectantly.

“I’ll be your hand. Be my ears and my brain,” he tells me and I understand what he wants to do.

Like I said when I woke up, this lock is rustic. It would only take me a second to open, but that also means it’s bigger.

Which, in turn, means Léandre can actually slip his claws inside of it. We might have a chance.

He raises his hand to the lock and we both hold our breath.

One of his claws enters the lock, and I listen to the sounds from inside.

After a few “to the right,” “left,” “push more,” and other orders from me, the lock finally deigns to open.

But my relief is short, because I can hear steps coming to our room again.

This time I don’t question myself more.

I know there are other people in the cells next to mine, but we don’t have time. We’ll come back to free them, or ask Elhyor to send a team, but we can’t do it now.

“Shift,” I order Léandre and do so myself in the next breath.

The butterfly shifter stays right next to me as we soar to the ceiling and wait for whoever is coming at us to pass through.

I nudge Léandre against the corner of the wall and make him grip whatever he can so he doesn’t have to fly and can tuck his wings in.

He’s not moving, and I can hear his slow breathing as I drape my wings on top of his very bright white and red feather coat.

It’s going to be a miracle if this works.

Especially since I can see it. We didn’t close the door back completely and someone is bound to see that I have escaped.

They might not notice the butterfly. Maybe they didn’t even notice they locked it in with me in the first place, but an empty cell can’t be missed.

“Didn’t we throw the bat chick in that cell earlier?” One of the guards asks as he walks right under where we’re hiding.

“You’re sure it wasn’t one at the end of the row?” another asks, and I thank whatever god wants to hear my prayers for forgetful soldiers.

The one who talked first gets in the cell and still takes a look at the ceiling as if I would have stayed in there in my animal form if the door was open.

That tells me all I need about the shifting suppressant that could have been in the air. They only needed the electric field, after all.

I see him grab the bars of the door and close it after him. What I see above it all are the gloves he’s wearing that seem to make him impervious to electricity. Maybe all cells have that kind of electric field, after all.

It wasn’t just about me.

He looks around suspiciously and then follows the other further down the row of cells.

This is our opening.

I drop from the position I was in, and Léandre seems to understand that we need to fly fast, because he manages to fly almost as fast as I do.

Did I say that bats are the fastest? It’s just a shame it doesn’t apply in human form. It would have prevented a nasty headache and a few hours in a dank cell. Also, it would have prevented me from being electrocuted multiple times.

The race gives me a weird sense of déjà vu, but in reverse.

I just hope this time no one is going to get caught again.

I’m keeping an eye on Léandre and the butterfly, but end up slowing down because I have no idea where we’re going.

Léandre takes the lead, and surprisingly, it only takes a few minutes for me to start recognizing the corridor.

It’s the one we entered when we came to steal the wings—and a massive shark. It feels like an eternity has passed since it happened, and yet I know it’s been less than a day.

We go through the illusion on the wall and keep flying until we get out in the Saint Michel quarter. We’re almost home.

The thought tugs something inside my heart because it’s been weeks since I referred to Notre Dame as home, and I know it’s all my fault.

I love the people who live inside. Hell, my dad is still inside of this building.

But I realize my pain got me away from everything that was my world not so long ago.

I didn’t know Léandre for long, and still, I stayed away because he was there. That doesn’t sound right to me.

I’d like to say that the thought of him needing to go away didn’t cross my mind while flying back to Notre Dame, but I’m not that good of a person.

Sometimes I hate that he doesn’t know what he took from me when his former self disappeared, but I can’t blame him either, because like I said… He doesn’t know.

When we finally arrive at Notre Dame and drop to the parvis naked, I try not to look at Léandre.

I try not to look at how his back seems to have developed since the last time my nails grazed it.

I try not to look at how his pecs are so much more defined and how his abs now look like a perfect chocolate tab.

I try not to look at his butt when he turns, either.

Yeah, I try to look for our new butterfly friend instead.

But you guessed it. I tried. But I failed. I never said I tried very hard.

I still need to stop staring or he’s going to get the wrong idea.

And we don’t want that.