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“I don’t know. You always seemed so angry.”
How much of what I’ve seen in their songs and videos is a true reflection, and how much is just exaggeration, like Elias says?Maybe there’s some truth because I don’t miss the way Elias’ eyes flash with a subdued rage that I’ve seen before.
“Not at you, darling.Youare not the one I have any quarrel with.”
That seems like a subject not worth pushing on any further.
Fortunately, there isn’t any chance to. “All right, shove over,” Caelan says as he returns, and Elias obligingly steps aside.
“Did you find what we need?”
“It’ll do. Come here.” The last part is addressed toward me, and I start slightly as Caelan takes hold of my face, gripping my jaw between his fingers. He’s not exactly gentle, but it doesn’t hurt either—just keeping me steady as he takes a dampened paper towel and starts wiping the blood away from the cut.
It’s a good thing he has several because they end up soaking through quickly. Caelan tosses the sopping, blood-stained towels into a heap on the counter behind the stool. I catch sight of Elias’ expression turning up in distaste out of the corner of my eye.
“Do you always have to make such a mess of everything?”
“Throw ’em away yourself if you care,” Caelan shoots back. He’s more focused on his task. Too focused, almost.
I swallow, not quite able to forget how much he seems to like that dagger of his. And cutting people. Elias might not have any intention of hurting me, but Caelan—Caelan’s always been much more violent, more of a wildcard.
I tense in his grip, but Caelan doesn’t do anything. He’s simply muttering to himself, static-like little nothings as he patches the cut with gauze over the top and medical tape to keep it in place.
“Um… thank you,” I say as he steps away, job complete.
“Dammit,” is his only response. “That’s gonna need changing soon. It’s seeping through already.”
Elias grunts. “Maybe you shouldn’t have cut her so deep.”
“It’s not like I meant to!”
“That makes a change.”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt. Although they’re snarking at each other, it doesn’t sound serious. More like that’s the dynamic they have. Antagonistic, but in a playful way. Still, it’s a little overwhelming. “It was an accident. I don’t mind. I… kind of like it. It’ll look badass. Right?”
Caelan looks at me properly for the first time. Eyes narrowed like he’s trying to work out if I mean it or I’m putting on a brave face. His eyes are unnatural too. Like a cat’s, a lurid yellow-green with slit pupils. It’s unsettling.
“We never introduced ourselves,” he says, then holds out his hand. His fingers look even more claw-like up close, and when he smiles, he has a mouth full of teeth that are too sharp. “Caelan.”
“Um.” I take his hand and let him shake it. “My name is Shannon.”
“Shannon,” he repeats, a hint of a purr in his voice. His eyes drag back up to the cut on my cheek. “You like it?”
Wait.
Wait, he’s getting the wrong idea. Just because I can appreciate the aesthetic of a little bit of mild gore doesn’t mean anything. Not necessarily. That video with the knife—videos, plural—is far from an isolated incident. When Caelan is involved, it is equal parts horrifying and fascinating. I’d watched those videos with my stomach twisting in a mess of different emotions. The last thing I want is to talk about it with the goddamn demon responsible.
I squirm in my seat. “I should go clean up the rest of the blood.”
It’s not an elegant dodge of the question by any means, but it is true enough. The blood has run all the way down my face, over my neck, and to my chest, soaking into my top. Beneath the fabric, it is sticky, wet, and unpleasant. Caelan might have cleaned away most of what was visible, but I really need to take my top off and thoroughly wring that out too.
“There are bathrooms here, right? I’ll go clean up in the sinks, wash my top out, and whatever.”
“Do you have anything to change into?” Elias asks.
“Oh. No, I was going to put it back on. It’s not like it won’t dry in two minutes with the heat outside.”
Caelan mutters something rude and particularly creative about LA weather and Satan’s asshole, and a small, slightly shaky laugh escapes me before I can help it.
