Page 26 of Even Angels fall
She looks happy to be here at my door, and she doesn’t give me time to think or to react before she’s holding her hand for me to shake.
“I’m Cassiopé, but you can call me Cass. I’m a bat-shifter, and I’ve lived in Notre Dame my whole life. I spend most of my time at the archives. I can’t wait to get to know you better. Here, they’re all a bunch of grumpy old asses, and I’m so happy there’s someone new and young inside of ND—that’s what I call Notre Dame. We’re going to become best friends, I’m sure of it.”
I don’t know how she does that, but I’m pretty sure she hasn’t breathed a single time since she started talking.
I’m already tired just from listening to her.
I shake her hand and answer laconically. “I’m Angélique. I’d tell you to call me Ange, but it’d be all wrong.”
“Can I call you Angie, then?” she asks, and her deep green eyes look so earnest that I don’t have the heart to tell her no.
She looks so cute and innocent. I’m not sure she’s my age after all. Maybe a tiny bit younger.
“Okay,” I mutter under my breath.
She hears me just fine, and I have no doubt about it. If there is a shifter kind that can hear perfectly well, it’s the bat-shifters.
Like the bird-shifters, who became angels since our arrival on earth, they laid on the human lore quite easily and became what they call vampires. With their speed, nocturnal habits, and their love for biting, it wasn’t too much of a stretch.
It’s not as if they really like the sunlight, but they don’t burn under the sun.
Which would explain why Cassiopé—who just grabbed my arm like we’ve known each other our whole life—prefers the darkness of the archives room.
She keeps chatting as we walk down the stairs to the first floor and brings us to another flight of stairs that I didn’t see when I arrived.
I have no idea what she said so far, and it’s even worse when we enter the room that is just under the church.
Being under the ground, you’d expect the space to be dark and small, but it’s nothing like that. The room we entered has a high vaulted ceiling, with small windows on top of the walls that let natural light in, but there are also lights on the ceiling that look like a thousand stars.
It’s magical. But it’s also super loud, because there are dozens and dozens of people everywhere. They’re all chatting while they get their food, or sitting at long tables.
It looks like barracks, but unlike my father’s warriors, these men and women seem to be happy to be here. Some of them are smiling or even laughing with their friends.
There are a few of them who sit at the tables without talking to others, but they’re not a majority here.
All I can think since I entered is the fact that I’m finally in the middle of people and that no one looks at me like the weirdo that I am.
My stomach grumbles, and it stops Cassiopé in her tracks.
“Better get in line and feed you,” she says with a chuckle before talking again as she walks toward a line that I didn’t notice when we entered.
I have a vague idea that she’s talking about her job in the archives room, but I don’t pay too much attention.
My stomach is the only thing getting any attention right now, and the delicious smell that comes from the kitchens at the back of the room is truly not helping.
We wait a bit longer, and she talks with the people in front of us in the line.
When it’s finally our turn, I get a piece of bread that looks amazingly soft, a fork and knife, and a huge plate filled with what looks like chicken, rice, and broccoli. There’s another line to get desserts, and Cassiopé makes me move to that line, too, before we walk to one of the tables.
“Ew, broccoli,” she says as if they’re a personal offense to her.
I don’t mind.
I quite like the idea of eating with everyone.
It makes me feel like I’m not a freak who combines etiquette lessons with their meal.
It wasn’t by choice, but still, this is so far from what I’m used to in my day-to-day life.
