70. Angélique
70
Angélique
G uns. We’re surrounded by guns.
I hate them.
I hate them because they can make someone who can’t fight somewhat competent.
I also hate them because until recently, I thought I couldn’t shift, so they are one of the most awful weapons for me to deal with.
I also hate them because I’m fast, but there is no way I can outrun a gun pointing directly at my heart.
From the other side of the corridor, I can see that Elhyor came to the same conclusion, but his eyes are still searching for Brice and the rest of his men.
There’s some kind of pop and then a metal clang to the ground.
“Looking for your men?” Micha?l asks in a taunting way.
He doesn’t look good.
First, he’s naked and no one should ever be forced to behold the sight of one’s parents naked. Especially one you hate.
But that’s not what catches my eyes.
No.
His wings are the sole focus of my gaze.
Because one might look bloody and that’s expected with how I pinned it to the wall, but the other looks way worse. It’s like it’s been torn at the base and sags to the ground as if he can’t control it anymore. From where I stand, I can see the bone showing, and I’m pretty sure it’s broken in a position that wouldn’t heal properly if he shifted completely in his human form now.
No, my father doesn’t look good at all.
But it doesn’t matter. He knows he has the upper hand now—probably had it from the beginning—so that’s why he’s sporting a smug smirk that borders on maniacal.
“Where are they?” Elhyor asks, not even considering the fact they could very well be dead.
“Somewhere you’ll visit very soon,” Micha?l says, very pleased.
It could mean a dungeon or that we would join them in death.
“Did you kill them?” I ask, my face in their direction and my chest still facing that damn gun. I’m not going to turn my back to the guard holding it. I don’t want to be caught unaware by a freaking bullet.
“They’re six feet under, already were before you even passed the entrance of the castle,” he says, looking at his nails as if they’re the most important thing in this instant.
He’s toying with us, I know it, but I can’t stop myself and ask, “Are they alive?”
“Just wait and see,” he says and has the nerve to wink as he finishes.
In this instant, I regret the moment I decided not to kill him and to leave to rot pinned against the wall. I don’t know what stopped me, why I kept him alive.
Actually, I know.
I wanted to be sure he could deactivate Léandre’s brain chip in case he had activated it or started a countdown on the activation.
But I see my mistake now.
It might not be the reason we’re doomed, but it’s not helping our situation for sure.
”Take them,” he adds as he turns in the direction we came from now that I stuck the closest door.
The guards closest to him part to let him through and the gun against my chest is pushed against my skin forcefully.
”Move,” the man on the other side of the gun says.
“Where are we going?” I ask with a fake smile.
“Shut up, or you’ll go there unconscious,” is the only answer I get, and it’s accompanied by a sneer.
I don’t know who pissed in his coffee this morning, but that man needs to calm down a bit.
“Hands in the air. Turn,” he demands.
Not really wanting to go wherever we’re headed while unconscious—it would be difficult to escape if I don’t know where I am—I slowly raise my hands.
From the corner of my eyes, I still can see Elhyor, and he looks like he’s mouthing something to his guys. I don’t realize what it is until his eyes set on me and he repeats in my direction.
“At my signal, go to the ground.”
I’m not sure what he means exactly, but I’ll roll to the ground if he asks me. He looks like he has an idea to get out of this clusterfuck of a situation.
I turn very slowly, so the asshole now at my back doesn’t make a hole in my body. I would like to stay alive. Thank you very much.
It’s like Elhyor was waiting on me because as soon as I’m facing him I hear him say, “Now.” It’s barely above a whisper, but the bat-shifters all around the corridor don’t need more. In an instant, the men disappear and piles of clothes scatter around where they used to be, and bats appear, all flying away.
I launch myself to the ground and stay as flat as I can without moving.
And maybe my foot rips to the back and breaks the knee of the asshole who was holding a gun to my back—it’s pure coincidence.
Maybe.
I’m about to hit the man in the face when he bends to grab his knee when there is a loud noise. Like thunder.
The air grows hot—hotter than what the smoke had managed so far—and then there’s another noise that sounds like something very heavy has hit a wall.
When I turn my eyes in the direction that it came from, I can see that it’s not something, but someone.
And that someone is my husband in all his glorious, scaly form.
And glorious he is.
At first sight, I think black is the only color he is made of, but as I look closer, I can see there is a silver sheen to his scales that reminds me of his blond-white hair.
He takes up the width of the corridor and that’s with his wings tucked against his side. His head is bent under the ceiling and the last thing I see is him tucking his head back before the ceiling erupts in flame.
Before I can react or think, I see Elhyor take two of his fallen men in the claws of one paw and the other coming my way.
I jump to the side and throw on my shoulders the only other of his men still on the ground. He grunts at the impact and even if he’s heavy as fuck—and I too would very much like to grunt—I’m glad to hear he’s still alive.
The next second I’m holding onto Elhyor’s claws like my life depends on it—and it might very well—and he takes flight through the ceiling, surrounded by bats.