Page 72 of Even Vampires Bleed
“What am I here for this time?”
And just like that, I know. She’s the one who discovered what my microchip could do the first time.
35
Cassiopé
This feels awfully likedéjà vu.
Maybe this time we didn’t ask for the doctor because we already know where the tendrils are hooked in and what parts of his brain could be impacted, but it’s all the same.
The doctor could join us any minute now, though. His work on Gabriel’s wings will finish anytime now.
It feels like a repeat.
Except that Léandre isn’t drunk this time, and my dad isn’t here.
It feels like a repeat, but at the same time, like an eternity has passed. I dread Léandre losing his memories even more this time.
I didn’t know the first time.
I had just met him, and obviously I liked him at first sight, but I didn’t know how I would grow to truly like him.
And now I have all those feelings that make me feel like my heart has been dropped in a blender at full speed, and there is no way to piece it back together.
I thought it couldn’t get worse.
But I thought that when I believed him to be happy—or at least unbothered by the memory loss—I can see him plain as day… He’s not ready to lose his memories again.
And my heart feels crushed even more.
And at the same time, I feel bad.
Why? Because there’s some twisted part of my brain that tells me that at least this time he won’t forget us, because there is no us this time around.
Fucked up? Yes, totally, but like I said, I wouldn’t wish the inside of my mind on even my worst enemies.
Actually, scratch that. I would gladly see this happening to Gabrielle or the new Michaël. They can forget each other completely for all I care. Not that I think they would hurt the way I do, but if they felt even a small piece of what I’m going through, then it would be worth it.
I very much want them dead, but I’ll settle with them being reset.
Oh gods, this feels like playing at being God.You don’t like someone’s way of thinking? Reset. Oops, they’re a whole new person.
“Same, more or less,” Angélique answers the redhead.
Oh, yes, I forgot that she asked something.
She nods in Léandre’s direction and gets the same small box as last time from her bag and deposits it on the ground.
“Milton, can you do a brain scan? The whole picture, not just around the devious microchip.”
I forgot how she addressed her artificial intelligence as if they were a friend.
“Right away, Miss F,” it responds before lighting the office with a smaller version of Léandre’s brain than last time, as if the AI knew to adapt to the size of the room.
All I see are the tendrils lighting up through Léandre’s brain, because it doesn’t feel like anything changed since last time.
The electronic girl must have thought the same because without any prompting from anyone she says, “Compare it to the last scan we have,” to the AI and the old scan seems to appear right under the holographic image that was displayed, making all the differences more visible.
