Page 48

“At least someone's keeping their priorities straight,” Sean commented, scratching behind Roxie's ears. The cat purred loudly, rubbing against his hand before returning to her meal.

I watched the simple interaction with a pang of something like longing. But I felt disconnected from her, as if my return had made me a stranger even to Sean's cat.

“So,” Sean said conversationally, crouching next to Roxie. “We ran into a celestial being yesterday. No big deal. Turns out angels exist.” His tone was deliberately light, as if he was discussing the weather rather than a fundamental shift in our understanding of the universe.

Roxie, unsurprisingly, had no reaction beyond a disinterested tail twitch.

“You never did tell me how you found her,” I said, watching Sean with the cat. “What's her story?”

Sean's hand stilled for a moment. “About four years ago. Found her outside a vampire nest. She was the only survivor.” His voice was neutral, but there was an undercurrent of protectiveness that had always been there when it came to Roxie. “Little fighter scratched the hell out of me when I tried to grab her.”

“She likes you now,” I observed, watching how Roxie leaned into Sean's touch.

“She tolerates me,” Sean corrected with a slight smile. “Mostly because I feed her.” But the gentleness in his hands as he stroked her fur belied his casual words.

Skye was still processing, running both hands through their hair in a gesture of sheer bewilderment. “You're telling me the guy I saw—the one who looked like he'd never seen a couch before—is an actual angel?” Their voice pitched higher with each word. “The guy who stared at my coffee machine for ten minutes like it was some kind of alien technology?”

Sean's mouth quirked in amusement. “That's the one.”

“He asked me if I was a 'new species of human' because, and I quote, 'your essence vibrates differently.'” Skye looked torn between outrage and fascination.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Yeah, he's still figuring out how to talk to people.”

“He's been around since before people existed, and he's still figuring it out?” Skye's voice was incredulous.

Sean stood, reaching for his coffee. “For a celestial being with that much power, you'd think he'd have picked up some social cues along the way.”

I took a bite of my pancake, savoring the sweet taste of normality. “From what I've seen so far, at least he's trying.”

“Trying,” Skye repeated flatly. “He told me my internal organs were 'arranged pleasingly.'”

Sean nearly choked on his coffee, coughing as he tried not to laugh. Even I felt a genuine smile tugging at my lips—the first one since I returned that didn't feel forced.

“To be fair,” I said, “from what Cassiel explained about angels, they see humans more as biological structures than people. Coming from him, that actually might be a compliment.”

Skye exhaled sharply, sinking deeper into their chair. “What the hell is my life?” The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular. They stared at the ceiling, as if expecting it to offer answers.

“Welcome to the club,” Sean said, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast.

Skye shook their head, as if physically clearing away the existential crisis. Their expression shifted to something more focused, professional. “Well, before I could fully spiral, Sterling called. Said he needs you in his office ASAP.”

The light mood evaporated. Sterling didn't call unless it was urgent, and “urgent” in our world usually meant blood and danger.

I set down my fork, appetite suddenly gone. “Did he say what it was about?”

Skye shrugged, but their casual posture was belied by the tension in their shoulders. “He was... terse. More so than usual. Which is saying something.”

Sean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He and Sterling had a complicated relationship—built on respect but frayed by Sean's recklessness during my absence. I wondered just how bad things had gotten between them.

Sean and I exchanged a look loaded with silent communication. The sudden shift from peaceful morning to potential crisis was jarring but familiar. This was our real life—stolen moments of peace punctuated by disaster.

“More angel nonsense?” I guessed, already calculating how quickly we could get to Sterling's office, what weapons we'd need, how much ammo we had left after the last hunt.

Sean's face was already hardening into hunter mode, the brief warmth of the morning giving way to professional detachment. “Maybe.”

Skye watched this transformation with a mixture of awe and concern. “You two are scary sometimes, you know that? The way you just...” They snapped their fingers. “Switch gears.”

“Comes with the job,” I said, not elaborating on the cost of that ability—the compartmentalization, the emotional whiplash, the way it hollows you out over time.