We were both fighters, and we hated each other. It was inevitable, really. I had an attitude that would make any nun faint, and Elle was about as friendly as an agitated pit viper. But I believed she was loyal to the demon slayers. They lived by a loose but ever present code, and she was adamant when it came to killing demons. She and the other slayers had been ready to destroy Dro, regardless of her angel half. Needless to say, we didn’t get along. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded. I stared at Elle blankly. Aside from the bruises and blood, she looked exactly as I remembered her; blonde hair falling out of a loose ponytail, nice cheekbones, full lips, perfected eyebrows, and bright blue eyes. She could have been a supermodel if she weren’t dressed in black combat clothes and carrying a knife on her hip. “I could ask you the same question,”
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