Page 16 of Even Angels fall
Even if I’m not sure I’ll see him ever again, he’s the family I picked.
He’s my brother and I’ll always come back to him.
In this life or the next.
8
Angélique
The eighteen kilometers I have to walk are uneventful.
The vultures have no stamina, though.
By the time we have reached theîle de la cité,they have switched places between the on-foot guards and in-flight ones three times.
I guess training only in my human form gave me an advantage.
But I’m no fool. If I were to be running now, they would all shift and catch up to me in no time. I wouldn’t lose them, either.
I can’t forget what Anne told me.It’s a tracker. Get rid of it when necessary. Your father expects you to die tonight.
I can’t get rid of the tracker she stuck on my shirt—or was it directly on my skin?—until tonight, but I also can’t forget that I can’t run away until I’ve gotten rid of it.
We finally arrive in front of Notre Dame, and I can’t stop myself from admiring the building.
Versailles’ palace is beautiful, yes, but it’s gaudy and reeks of arrogance.
Notre Dame is something else.
In front of me, there are three sets of double doors, encased in arches with delightful designs, representing men, women and devils, and right in the middle, just over the second set of doors, there is a huge rose window with three statues just in front of it: a woman with a child and two angels.
No wonder my father wants this building.
Above that level, there are gargoyles guarding the building. They’re all around that level and the two squared towers flanking the sides of the building.
Just between the towers, I can see another one. This one is pointy, and on top of it, there’s… a rooster.
I guess French people do have a sense of humor.
It’s built on an island right in the middle of Paris. On each side of the building, the river la Seine hugs the island, taxi boats floating at high speeds over the water in a stark contrast with the historical building they pass.
I don’t know if it’s on purpose, but none of the flying taxis are anywhere close to Notre Dame. People seem to know it’s not somewhere they’re authorized to fly.
“Move,” douchebag vulture number two—or maybe he’s number three… Don’t care, don’t want to know—says as he pushes my shoulder.
I take an extra step just to stay out of his reach and keep walking.
Until something falls from the sky, right in front of me.
No, not something. Someone.
Quickly, he’s joined by four other people dropping from the sky.
Maybe they weren’t all gargoyles up on the third level of the cathedral, after all.
I know I should be looking around to find where I could escape, where I could hide, and I do. That’s why, when I finally face the man who dropped from the sky, my breath cuts short.
I wasn’t prepared.
