Sinful Things

37

I pinch my brow, trying to decide if I’m more annoyed with Callan or Father at this moment. “Fine. Callan and I will fly over to the fae side and keep watch. You two make sure everything stays calm over here on the angel side.”

Araceli and Bastien nod, and head off to sit with the rest of the crowd. I watch them squeeze next to Grace and Cyrus, and then Callan and I head behind the bathrooms so we’re out of sight.

I hold out my hand to him. “We need to be touching for this to work. Don’t let go of me.”

He nods, but instead of taking my hand, he slides his arm around my waist and pulls me close. He’s warm and strong and I get a taste of his hateful desire again as our bodies press together.

“We don’t need to be this close,” I say, although I don’t move away.

He looks down at me with inscrutable eyes. “It will make it easier for you. We don’t want to accidentally break contact.”

I suck in a breath and try to block out my own flaring lust. Then I gather light around us, taking it from the glowing baubles floating above us, the moonlight, and the lamps around the field. I bend it around Callan and me until we’re invisible. “It worked. Let’s go.”

Callan holds me against him and launches into the sky before I can even extract my wings. He carries me like I weigh nothing as we dart over the field, while I make sure to keep us hidden.

“I can fly, you know,” I say, digging my nails into his arms. His really strong, masculine arms.

“This is safer.”

I huff, but there’s little point in arguing with him when we’re already there. I’m reminded of the other time he carried me, when I was attacked by demons and hit with a light-infused blade. His wings are pure white and edged in gold, and I have the strongest desire to run my fingers along them.

We do a few passes overhead, but don’t see anything unusual, and then we land behind their bleachers in a spot of grass. Callan sets me down and takes my hand, before stepping back, then wipes his other hand on his jeans like he’s got to brush my cooties off him. I roll my eyes and sit on the grass to wait, tugging him down with me.

We wait there for the entire game in silence, and though I worry it will be awkward holding his hand the entire time, it’s surprisingly not. Turns out, as long as I’m not talking to Callan, or looking at his stupid handsome face, he’s somewhat tolerable. Even as he runs his calloused fingers over the back of my hand idly, as though he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

The most action we get is when two fae sneak under the bleachers to make out, before being shooed away by one of the guards. They run off with their shirts half-on, and I cover my mouth to suppress a giggle. Out of the corner of my eye I see Callan smile a little too.

The angels lose the game, despite Marcus’s best efforts, and then the fae gather outside the field to depart. I stand up, dragging Callan with me, but can’t see what they’re doing. We move closer as a large portal opens up, shimmering and circling while the fae walk though it and vanish. The guards huddle closely around the portal with their spears raised to prevent anyone else from entering. One by one the fae head back to Faerie, and I think about my brother, and how Jonah must have disguised himself as one of them to join their group, then followed them inside. What I don’t know is what happened after that. How long could he pass for one of the fae before being discovered? Did he find the Staff? And most of all, is he still alive?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Olivia

I

have a shadow, and his name is Callan.

He follows me between classes with a glower on his face, like he hates me for existing, and hates himself for having to protect me. At one point I ask him, "What is this, the fifties? Want to carry my books for me too?"

He gives me a scathing look. “I’d rather impale myself on my sword.”

I’m so over it.

During Ishim class, we’re learning how to conceal larger group of people by making a chain of hands. We each practice turning the rest of the class invisible, but only Grace and I can do it with ease. Nariel promises everyone will get their eventually, but his eyes linger on the two of us. Not with lust though, but something else. Pride, maybe? I can’t tell.

This trick will come in handy when I go to Faerie, because I’m starting to realize I won’t be able to go by myself. I’ll need other people to help me, and I’ll need to conceal them. Plans form in my head. The trick is opening one of those portals somehow.

As class ends, Grace walks out with me. “You did great in there. You’re very powerful, which I guess is no surprise, with Archangel blood in your veins. Jonah was strong too.”

“Yeah.” I corner her in the hallway and lower my voice. “Is that why you let him go to Faerie?”

Shock registers across her face, and then it twists with sorrow. “Let him? I begged Jonah not to go. I did everything I could to stop him. I even tried to go with him, in the end. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was determined to go, and to go alone.” Her eyes water with tears she tries to blink back. “Every day I wish I’d tried harder. It kills me wondering if I could have done something more.”

Her grief is so sincere, I feel bad for even questioning her. “I’m sorry. I had to know.”

She dabs at her eyes with her knuckles. “I understand. I would want to know too, if it was my brother.”