Angel Blood

31- Can't Hide From the Past

I wonder if I look as ill as I feel inside as he strides forward to meet me at the bar.

"Calli?"

I don't know what to say at first, so I just stare at him and absentmindedly tug my sweater sleeve further down my arm so he can't see the scales that lurk underneath.

"How are you alive?" he breathes, eyebrows pinching together as he rakes his eyes down my body. "We thought you died. Delia didn't know that he's—" he cuts off, glancing around nervously as if the monster that is Sinclair Black himself is going to emerge from the corner and bite his head off. "Well, you know. He's not like the rest of them."

Delia—our leader—is the oldest and fiercest of the angel bloods. She's handpicked all of us and taught us how to fight and kill as soon as we were old enough to hold up the weight of a gun.

She's as clever as they come. There's no way she wasn't aware that Sin was an upper-level demon before she sent me out to end him.

"How did you get in here?" I say, resisting the urge to push him out the door. We've never been particularly close (not that I've been with any of them), but the thought of getting him tangled up in this mess makes me sick to my stomach.

"I'm eighteen," he frowns. "My birthday was a month ago. Not that it matters. We need to end this."

"What you need to do is leave." I gesture to the open door. "If you want to live, anyway. There's no way you'll be able to kill him before he can get to you first."

He looks hesitant as he looks around, then leans forward and whispers, "I know how to kill him."

I stiffen, wiping my clammy palms on my jeans. "What?"

"Delia told me," he whispers, looking smug as he leans back. "She was planning on sending Dante but I knew I'd be better. He'll never expect me, you know?" A boyish grin tugs over his mouth.

"Does she know you're here?"

He winces. "No."

"Sean, if you stay here you're going to die. Do you understand me?" I fight the urge to shake him as he leers defiantly at me. "Go home. Please."

"What are you doing here?" he interjects, glancing at the healthy state of my body suspiciously. "Why aren't you dead?"

"He's taken me as his prisoner," I say, which is mostly true. At least it was at one point.

He raises his brow, looking pointedly at my new clothing and the tip jar filled to the brim with bills beside me.

I grimace, glancing nervously at Theodore. He watches us curiously but doesn't make an attempt to step forward. I don't blame him; Sean is the perfect assassin if solely for the fact that he looks like he couldn't hurt a fly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark figure step through the doorway. Sin is already heading toward me, looking relaxed with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans and his dark shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The small bulge in his waistband indicates a pistol sits readily at his side.

I turn back to Sean. He pales a bit, shifting uneasily on his feet.

"Go," I say, already moving forward. "I won't tell him you're here but you have to leave. Now."

He hesitates then nods as he disappears back into the crowd. I meet Sin halfway, wrapping my arms around his waist and doing my best to tug him in the opposite direction.

"You're back," I murmur as I press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek. A strand of inky hair escapes his bun and falls over his forehead so I gently brush it back. "How was your day?"