Page 1 of The Devil's Waltz

ONECAMILLE

A blast of steaming-hot milk shoots from the espresso machine, narrowly missing my face. I slam my hand on the top, grumbling under my breath. I swear, making coffee is going to be the death of me.

I’ve been working at Hallowed Grounds for nearly six months. You’d think in that time I would’ve learned a trick to stop the damn thing from sputtering boiling liquid at me, but no. Safe to say, being a barista isn’t my true calling. Hell, I don’t even like coffee. The closest I’ll get is a dirty chai latte, and that’s only when I’m desperate for an energy boost.

“Are you good?”

I glance over the top of the cursed machine to find my best friend and roommate, Harper. She stands on the other side of the counter with her lips pressed together against a smile, her eyes sparkling pools of blue.

“You couldn’t have ordered something simple, like tea…or water?” I shoot back dryly before pouring the steamed oat milk into a to-go cup. The machine continues to hiss at me, but I ignore it.

Harper snorts, tying her brownish blond hair back as she leans against the counter. “When are you going to ditch this place?”

I purse my lips. “Hmm, hard to say. Probably when tuition and rent magically become free.”

She shoots me an unimpressed, squinty-eyed look at my tone. I’ve seen that expression many times in the decade I’ve known her, but it does nothing to squash my sarcasm.

I shake my head, silently asking her not to push it, before finishing her vanilla oat latte and securing the lid. Walking to the end of the worn butcher block counter, I slide it toward her.

“Thank you,” she singsongs, wrapping her fingers around the cup. Lifting it to her lips, she takes a small sip before sighing contentedly. “Do you have a few minutes?”

I wipe my hands on the apron tied around my waist and glance at the other barista working tonight. Harper’s been our only new customer in the last half hour, so she’s currently scrolling on her phone. “Marie, I’m going to take my break before you head home.”

She shoots me a thumbs-up without looking away from her screen.

I make myself a drink and join Harper at a table along the front window, passing one of our regulars on the way. It’s an older woman who likes to sit near the counter while she drinks her peppermint tea and solves the crossword in the paper.

It’s dark outside, and the weather is unseasonably cool. Something rather unusual for the third week of September in Seattle, which only makes the café feel cozier. I’ve always adored the old wood floors and twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling. Paired with the rich aroma of coffee beans and the sweetness of pastries, there are worse places I could spend my evenings. And considering my student loan debt is only getting bigger, I really need this job.

Soft rock plays through the space, mixing with the quiet conversation of a couple sipping lattes on the green velvet couch across the room.

“How’s your night going?” Harper asks, cradling her latte and tapping her fingers against the side of the cup as the faint scent of her Chanel perfume tickles my nose.

“Pretty quiet,” I say as warmth radiates from my cup and heats my palms. “I’ve been studying between customers.” We’re not even a month into the semester, but my Political Theory professor is a fan of weekly quizzes, so I’m always studying. I don’t mind it, though, and I’m already halfway through my political science degree at the University of Washington. “How was training?” A plume of discomfort hits me as the words leave my lips. I suspect where the question will lead this conversation and I kind of regret asking it.

The corner of her mouth kicks up. “I’m at the top of the leaderboard. Three months and counting, so I’d say it’s going pretty damn good.”

I find it in myself to smile. “That’s amazing, Harper. Congratulations.”

Her gaze lowers to her cup. “Thanks. I wish you were kicking ass with me, though. I’ll graduate from the academy and get partnered with some dud.”

A sigh escapes my lips. We’ve had this conversation before.

“Sorry,” she rushes to say as her brows knit. “I know your parents hound you enough about re-enrolling. Ignore me.”

I sit back, wishing my chair would swallow me so I could escape this conversation. My stomach roils at thoughts of the academy—of my parents and what they want for my future.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve known supernaturals live in the shadows of the mundane world. And while most people our age are figuring out what they want to do with their lives, Harper’s learning what both of our parents learned before us—demon hunting.

Graduating from the academy feeds you right into the Department of Demonic Protection, an offshoot of the US government unknown to the public. And my parents are in charge, leading the hunters in protecting humans from supernatural threats.

Since I turned fifteen, I started training. Following in their footsteps. Making them proud.

Until my world shattered when Danielle, my older sister, went on the hunt that killed her.

The morning after her funeral, I dropped out and swore I’d never return to that life.

Of course, my leaving five years ago hasn’t stopped my parents from doing everything they can to rope me back into the academy. They refuse to accept I’m dedicating myself to myownfuture instead of the fight against demons. And after losing one daughter, they’re desperate for reassurance that I can protect myself. To them, more training means less danger.

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