Page 66 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Florentine

I t’s five thirty in the morning when Elodie wakes me up.

Why couldn’t she wake up Dad?

I have to be at work in two hours, and now, I won’t be able to fall asleep again. Or if I do, it’s going to be hell to find any motivation.

But, like most nights, Elodie had a nightmare.

It’s been like this since she was a baby.

It might have been because our mother bailed on us barely two months after she was born. It was twelve years ago, but the nightmares are still there.

She probably needs to see someone about it, but dad says we don’t have the money.

If he wasn’t gambling most of it away, we could probably afford it.

But here I am, taking care of my little sisters when it should be him.

There are five of us.

I’m the oldest. Then there’s Coralie, who is three years younger than I am. Then Amélie, who is two years younger than Coralie and Juliette, who is another two years younger. The youngest is Elodie, who is six years younger. She wasn’t planned, hence why our mother bailed.

My dad wanted her. My mother didn’t, and she decided she had enough.

Why am I telling you this?

Because this explains why I’m up at five thirty on a workday, and why I’m still awake when ten minutes later, there’s a knock on our door.

If it’s one of father’s debtors at the door again, I’m gonna rain hell on them.

I’m not a morning person—even less so when I have to deal with problems someone else created.

I might be nice and willing to deal with it in the end, but it won’t make me do it with a smile.

“What?” I bark, as I open the door forcefully.

“You’re an awfully difficult person to find,” a soft voice tells me.

I recognize that voice. I also recognize the person it belongs to.

She’s one of the vampires who live in Notre Dame. I think she’s named after a mythological queen.

“Cassiopé,” she introduces herself as she holds her hand for me to shake. “Can I come in?”

I open the door and let her in. If she’s here, she needs something Elhyor might not know about.

It means it’s probably going to be expensive.

For her—not for me. And I did say earlier that we needed money.

“What are you here for?” I ask her.

She flinches at my tone, but then straightens her back as if she needed to steel herself for what she has to ask.

I’m not a morning person. Sue me. She needs my help, so she’ll deal with it.

I sit at the kitchen table and start preparing Elodie’s lunch box and my breakfast. The others are old enough to make theirs.

“I need a service,” she says, as if testing the waters.

“Usually, people who come to me always need a service. Whether I can make that happen and they can pay for it is more important to me.”

“I can pay,” she says without missing a beat.

I gathered that. One doesn't live in Notre Dame and is poor. The dragon wouldn’t tolerate that. He pays handsomely. It’s just a shame that all the jobs I’ve taken with him were initially dad’s.

Because it means he knew what would be paid, and it arrived directly on his account—not mine.

But this time, Dad isn’t here. He hasn’t even come back from his nightly outing.

“What would you pay me for?” I ask her, suddenly way more awake than I’ve been until now.

I’m thinking about all the things I could buy with fresh money—new shoes for Coralie, new bag for Amélie, therapy sessions for Elodie, and maybe if there’s some left I can buy the parts I’ve seen online to upgrade Milton.

“Do you remember the man with the brain chip? The one that could erase his memory if it’s triggered?” she asks me, and I don’t need to think long.

I will remember that man forever.

Twice I’ve been asked to come and give a diagnosis for him. Twice I’ve given a very bleak one.

I hate being the bearer of bad news, but for this man, I’ve been exactly that. Twice—even if he doesn’t remember the first time.

I don’t know what I could help with, though.

“I remember,” I tell her. “But didn’t the doctor already say that the chip can’t be extracted unless he’s ready to suffer significant damage?”

“Yes, that’s what he said, but that’s not why I’m here,” she says.

“We’ve been living in a special zone in the south of France for the past few days, and I can’t tell you where it is, because he’s still there, but you just have to know that this place was built like a faraday cage, except bigger, much bigger.

No wave can enter. No phone works and there isn’t even a drop of electricity there. ”

I’m surprised a place like this still exists, but I just nod for her to keep going. I don’t know what she expects of me, but I’m interested.

“I was wondering if you could build something like that, but at a much smaller scale. Imagine something he could wear that would act like a faraday cage all around him—like a protection bubble. Would you be able to do that?”

She sounds hopeful, and I don’t want to burst her bubble, but I know this has never been done. Oh yeah, portable faraday cages have been built, but they were still lining the edges of something, like a car or a box.

I don’t think this has ever been done without material to make a box, though.

“Did you say you were in a place that was built like a faraday cage?” I ask, half of me still with her and the other one already seeing the possibilities. “Were you able to see the sky?”

“Yes, why?” she asks, and I wave at her, so she stops talking and lets me think.

Yes, if I find what was used and how it was used to make that bubble, I might be able to reduce its size.

But where could I put it? Putting it in the soles of his boots would make one side work, but I wouldn’t be sure it would cover his whole body.

I’m not about to make him wear a woolen cap, but maybe a sun hat?

But then what happens at night? Because he obviously can’t remove the device to go to sleep or all of that would be for nothing.

“Would he be amenable to a couple more chip implants?” I wonder out loud. I’m not expecting one, but Cassiopé still answers.

“I’m not sure, but I can find out.”

“Could you also find out if Elhyor would agree to me visiting the place he’s staying at?” I ask Cassiopé while my brain is making a million calculations at the same time, imagining what could be used to get a near microscopic system.

“I can ask,” she says with a bit of mistrust.

I guess she cares about the man who is soon-to-be-missing—or not—his memory.

That also explains why she’s here at the crack of dawn with an unusual request.

“How much would it cost?” she asks me, and I do the math in my head. I add up all the materials I would need, the time it would take me, and for good measure I add my sisters’ needs to the price.

Because why not?

When I finally say the price—which sounds insane coming from my mouth—she only nods.

“I can give you half now, and the other half when you’re done,” she says.

If all clients could be like her, it would make things so much easier for me.

At least Dad wouldn’t be able to spend the money when I need it to buy parts this way.

I stay as cool as I can—and don’t show that I’m ecstatic at the thought of what I’m going to be able to buy with all of that money—and answer her.

“It might take a while.”

“I’m prepared for that,” Cassiopé tells me. “Just talk to Angélique—not Elhyor. She’ll make sure you get every piece of information you need to build… Well, whatever you’ll build. And when you’re done, make sure it’s delivered to her again. She’ll know what to do.”

That sounds ominous.

“Also,” she adds. “No one can know. This must stay between Angélique, you, and me.”

Ominous as fuck.

Her coming at five thirty in the morning makes more sense now. She didn’t want anyone to see her here.

Not that anyone would easily guess what she ordered from me, anyway .

But it makes sense.

“No one will know,” I say with a nod.

Well, I don’t know who I would tell.

Dad would most likely find a way to spend the money, and I wouldn’t be able to produce the work. My sisters have never understood what my job entails. To be honest, I’m not even sure Dad really understands, either.

He tries, really, but my brain isn’t wired like most people and it’s hard for him—for them to follow.

Why? Because he repairs electronic stuff. I built my first artificial intelligence at twelve in the back of my room with scraps, bits, and pieces.

Now, Milton is my best friend.

I accompany Cassiopé to the door, and I’ve barely opened it before she turns to her bat form, leaving her clothes at my doorstep, and disappears into the morning sky.

I wish it was this easy for me to fly away and disappear.

But I’ve got people to take care of, and if I’m not here to do so, I can’t trust Dad to pick up the slack.

But now I might be able to do more.

I need to build a portable faraday cage and save a man—I think—but first; I need breakfast.