Page 41 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Léandre

I barely have time to finish getting naked when I hear a scream.

I throw all my clothes over the edge of the jet and jump. Without waiting to reach the trees, I shift completely. I’m faster in my bird form than in my angel form, and if Cassiopé is screaming, I need to get to her as fast as I can.

I dodge every branch on my way, until I reach Cassiopé.

She’s not screaming anymore, but I can hear her—almost—silent cry.

I don’t know where it comes from, but I have the sudden urge to protect her.

But I don’t really know how to do that.

The part of the forest she got stuck in is dense, and I’m not sure there was room for a full human in the first place—and that’s probably why she ended up the way she is—so shifting might be a problem.

I fly around her and try to assess the damage.

When I fly to her, I realize why she screamed.

One branch pierced the top of her left wing right under the bone, and she’s now dangling from it.

Well, not completely dangling—the trees are so packed together that she’s standing on a branch of the nearest tree. Still, she can’t manage to get out of the precarious position.

At least the bone didn’t break.

Can I shift to get her out of her position?

I’m not completely sure, but I’ll have to try, anyway.

I can see only two ways for it to go for Cassiopé if I don’t. She’ll either need to break her wing bone, or she’ll face plant onto another branch.

Slowly, I move around and perch on a nearing branch. I can’t land on the one she’s standing on or it might break under our combined weight.

When I’ve found the right one, I stop for a second and look at her. Her face is scrunched up in pain. I’m not surprised, but she’s not crying.

“You’re so strong,” I tell her once I’ve shifted. I’m not going to shift into my angel form, as I don’t want to end up like her.

“Stay with me,” I add when I see that her head is slightly drooping. She must have lost a lot of blood before I arrived. I can see the branches right under us, and they’re covered in blood, but I’m sure there’s more that I can’t see because of how dense the forest is.

I grab her waist with an arm and hurry to break the branch piercing her wing. She sags against me as if she has no strength left. I tuck her against my side, making sure the branch isn’t in the way, and then I break the branch on the side that is sticking out of her.

She barely grunts at each of my moves, but I can see the tears slowly sliding against her cheeks. I don’t think she can control those.

“I’m gonna have to leave it inside for now,” I tell her as I make sure she’s all settled against me in a way that isn’t hurting her more. “Can you shift the other wing in?”

I figure it will be easier if I only have to be careful of one wing.

She only shakes her head, and I realize she’s in so much pain that she can’t even talk.

Okay, we’ll have to manage this way.

Slowly and without making any sudden movements, I start to get down from the trees, one branch at a time.

It’s fastidious to do it with only one arm, but I don’t dare make a move that would hurt Cassiopé more.

After a long time—I have no idea how long, but I felt like it lasted hours—I finally jump from the last branch to the ground and let my wings free.

It’s not very high, but it’s high enough that she would feel the shock if I ever jumped like a human.

My wings slow our descent, and I release Cassiopé so she can get her feet on the ground.

I shouldn’t have bothered, though, because she’s glued to my torso, and it feels like she doesn’t want to let me go at all.

Her head is tucked against my chest, and she has stopped crying. From her jagged breath, I think she’s still in a lot of pain.

Since the branch is still spearing her, I’m not surprised.

“You need to stop holding me koala style,” I tell her. “I need to check on your wound and see if we can remove the branch.”

I turn her face so she looks at me, and I can see her answer. I have a feeling I won’t get any word from her until this piece of tree is out of her wing.

She carefully gets herself back on the ground, making sure not to jostle her wing.

I circle her to look at her wing—front and back—and assess the damage.

It’s not pretty. The thin membrane that makes up her wings has been torn from the middle of her center panel to the top of it.

The fact she skewered the center panel is probably what saved her from broken bones, because it means the branch stopped tearing through her skin when it reached the part where all the panels meet, leaving two bones on each side.

I’ll have to double check after removing the branch, though, because the joints might be dislocated.

I won’t tell her that for now. I don’t think she needs another reason to worry.

“The wood seems to be smooth,” I tell her. That’s the only thing we have going for us. At least we won’t cause more damage while getting it out of her.

“Do you, by any chance, have something that could help sanitize the wound after I remove the tree?” I ask her, but I’m disappointed when she shakes her head.

“Give me a second,” I say, and I run to the cabin that not so magically appeared on our right when I finally jumped from the tree cover. I didn’t even give it a second look, but now I don’t have any other choice.

Cassiopé’s health might depend on what I’ll find inside.

The cabin doesn’t really look like what I had expected. I thought it would be made of wood. Instead, it’s been built with rocks stuck together, and it looks to be of a decent size. I have the nasty feeling that the wall might be thick and that the house looks bigger than it actually is.

I run to the door. It’s made of plain on the outside, but is heavier than it should be when I pull on it. Metal—the inside is made of metal.

At least this house looks like it could survive a storm.

I enter, and I can barely see what’s inside, with all the blinds closed. The only light is coming from the door that I left open.

It looks like a spacious living room coupled with a kitchen. I can see the dust particles dancing in the light, and I know we’ll have to air the room. Hell, we’ll need to air the entire house.

It’s not the right time to think about that, though.

I run to the kitchen and open all the cupboards.

Ah, I found it—alcohol.

I would have been surprised if there wasn’t any.

I’m pretty sure Léon must have liked a whiskey by the fire from time to time. I was banking on it.

I shuffle the bottles and find one that should work.

Vodka.

It’s the only unopened bottle that isn’t wine, so it seems we’re lucky.

I run back to Cassiopé, and I find her holding herself up against a tree, her two hands against the bark and her head between her shoulders.

I come from the side and touch her shoulder.

“I found alcohol,” I tell her, and she nods in answer.

I circle her.

“This is going to hurt,” I tell her, but this time I don’t wait for her to respond and pour some of the vodka on her wounds.

I don’t wait again.

I pour some of it on my hands, and then I put my left hand softly against the bone of her wings—far enough from the wound—and remove the branch in one swift movement so she doesn’t have time to process.

She stayed impassive when I poured the vodka on her wounds, but this time she screams so loud that all the birds in the trees take off into the sky.