Page 41 of Even Vampires Bleed
And who would better help me kill the woman I believe destroyed my man’s mind than the humans?
They’ve been fighting over the angels for decades now, screaming about a conspiracy.
And for some, it might only be the gibberish of addled minds, but all shifters know they aren’t wrong. The bird shifters aren’t angels, the same way bat-shifters aren’t vampires—even if we do have a taste for blood and better speed than any other shifter.
So here I am, at four in the morning, wrapped in a cloak that’s definitely not from this time period, circling the church in search of an entrance to the catacombs.
Do I look suspicious?
Definitely, but I doubt there are a lot of people awake to witness it.
I’ve circled the church twice and haven’t found any entrance, except for the church itself.
Well, it’s time to sneak in.
I pick the side entrance on the left because it’s going to be slightly more discreet.
There might be little to no witnesses at this time of the night, but I’m not about to show off how I get in and out of anywhere.
Hence the cloak. It’s black and reaches the ground. When I’m facing something, no one at my back can see what I’m doing.
I raise my right hand against the wood of the door for support, roll my pants to my right knee, and shift my leg before raising it to the lock.
It’s an ancient and rustic lock. It looks like, short of oiling it from time to time to avoid corrosion to set in, nothing has ever been done to it since it was installed seven hundred years ago.
It’s old and thanks to that, it’s very easy for me to pick. In just a few seconds, I’m done with it, and the door opens for me.
I ponder if I should leave it open in case I need to run away, but I hear bats—animals, not shifters—at the top of the church, and I know I don’t really need an escape route.
I lock the door after myself and shift my leg back to normal.
Except for the chirping I can hear from the bats, it’s eerily quiet in the church.
It’s still in use for prayers, but unlike Notre Dame, no one lives here. It’s just a church. A very beautiful church, but still just a church.
I make my way to the other side of the church because there is a door that I didn’t see from outside, and I have a feeling it might be the one I’m looking for.
It’s an innocuous door, made of dark wood but without any of the adornments usually found in French churches, so it sticks out a bit. It also has a very brand new and shiny lock that I didn’t miss from the other side of the church.
I shift my leg and drop my hand to the door so I can unlock it, but it opens from the inside. It’s so unexpected that I almost fall headfirst on the newcomer.
“What are you doing here?” he asks me.
He looks like he’s in his early thirties, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He also looks like he wears a scowl like it’s second nature.
I would usually judge him for that, but I’m not sure I’ve smiled a single time since I discovered what happened to Léandre, so I’m not about to throw stones in a glass castle.
“So?”
Oh right, he asked me why I was here.
I have half a mind to lie to him, to tell some well-constructed story to explain why I’m in a church that’s supposed to be locked so early in the morning, but he doesn’t look like he’s here for the church. With his technical all black outfit, he looks like he’s about to attack something or sneak in somewhere.
He’s dressed like I am. Minus the cloak.
So, I decide to be truthful.
What do I have to lose, anyway? A set of clothes and a really nice cloak?
