68. Angélique
68
Angélique
I know all hell broke when I started running toward my father, but I couldn’t care less. Man after man tries to get in my way so that I don’t reach him, so that I don’t attack him.
But they’re nothing. They’re not trained the way I was.
Yes, my father is right; I neglected my training for the past couple of weeks, but that doesn’t make me less efficient.
It might even be the opposite.
For the past eight years, I’ve been isolated and turned into a well-oiled machine, ready to annihilate or destroy anything that was thrown in my way. My only solace was my friendship with Léandre, but this has changed.
Only two weeks were enough for me to see that life could be different, that I could meet more people and grow attached to them.
I might be here on behalf of Léandre, but I’m fighting for all of my new friends, even if Luc stayed in the truck and Cassiopé stayed with Léandre.
I’m fighting with only one dagger; we’re in too close quarters to think about using firearms, but everything passes in a blur. I don’t have time to think about who I’m hitting when my fist comes back bloody or when my dagger plunges into someone’s body. The only thing I know is that cream-colored pants and the light green shirts are no more. I’m covered in blood, and I know it’s mainly from my opponent, even if I’m not trying to kill anyone.
It’s not their fault if they’re idiots who believe in my father. I’ve seen the look in their eyes. I’ve seen the doubt, but it’s easier to believe him than me since I haven’t been in the public eye for a while.
Above the noise of the battle, I hear Elhyor shout at someone to go unlock the power room door. I turn my head in that direction, and of course half a dozen guards are in front of it preventing anyone from approaching even if the smoke emanating from it is getting thicker and thicker.
Are Brice and his team still inside of it? It must be hell to breathe in there.
I turn back in the direction I had been aiming in order to go after my father again, but instead all I see is a sea of dark gray uniforms and guards fighting against Elhyor’s men.
There is no trace of the all white outfit Micha?l was wearing a few minutes ago.
It’s like he vanished.
I try to find red instead. He’s bound to get covered in blood too since he’s in the middle of a battle, but still nothing.
That’s when I feel claws tearing at the back of my head that I register what is happening.
I turn, and I’m faced with a dove trying to claw my face.
But now that I see the bird—now that I see Micha?l—I know exactly what to do.
I’m fast in avoiding each pass of his claws, turning at the right moment, dumping to the ground and moving like a wraith.
I’m faster than he is, even in my human form, so when I unleash the knife I just retrieved from my boot, he doesn’t even see it coming until it’s stuck in his wing and in the wall behind him.
Good.
I look around me.
Everyone is so busy with the battle that no one notices what just happened.
Good.
I swipe my dagger at another guard as I make my way to the wall.
Before my father has time to shift back, I retrieve my second knife from my boot and plunge it at the base of his other wing.
That should keep him busy for a while.
Then I run to the door.
I’m pushing past people, avoiding weapons left and right, punching anyone in my way, cutting through people.
I can’t be stopped.