Page 15 of The Devil's Waltz

Do you want me to come keep you company?

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as excitement zips through me like a current of electricity.

Worried about me?

I have no idea where the teasing response came from, but I can’t stop smiling. I make quick work of counting the money in the register and recording it in the accounting log for the morning shift.

Honest answer? It’s an excuse to see you.

I press my hand over my heart as it beats faster. There’s no question that I want to see him. But I’d rather it not be here, in an apron with my hair thrown up messily and my makeup probably half melted off my face by this point. As much as I’d like to think I don’t care about superficial stuff like that, part of me does. It shouldn’t matter. He saw me looking a lot worse the night we met.

After going back and forth on how to respond, I type what I hope sounds okay and hit send.

Let’s not have our second date where I work. I get to pick the place, remember? And this certainly wouldn’t be my first choice.

No? Where would your first choice be?

Guess you’ll have to wait and see. Goodnight, Xander.

A giddy sensation bubbles in my chest as I slip my phone into my pocket, and I spend the rest of my shift in a daze, thinking about when I’ll get to see him again. Things with him are fun and exciting, and despite the way we met, I find myself more and more glad we did.

The next morning, Harper barges into my room at an ungodly hour. It’s my only day off from class during the week, and I typically sleep in before working on any assignments or readings. As badly as I want to roll over and wrap myself in a blanket burrito, Harper successfully lures me out of bed with the promise of a mountain-sized stack of pancakes.

I’ve loved Mecca Café since the day we stumbled upon it in freshman year. The decor is loud and bright, with fire truck red walls and checkered ceilings, along with padded booths along one wall and bar seating along the other. The air is heavy with the smell of coffee and the bacon sizzling on the grill in the kitchen, mixed with the chatter of conversations around us and cutlery against dishes. The place is packed like usual at this time of day—we’re lucky we got in. Mecca Café isn’t much bigger than our living room, but I think that adds to its charm. And the delicious food certainly helps.

We sit in a booth, perusing the menu as if we don’t already know what we’re ordering. Justin casesomething new catches the interest of our taste buds. It hasn’t happened in the two years we’ve been coming here, but itcould.

Harper nurses a cup of coffee, tapping her fingernails against the dull green table. Once we’ve ordered, she sits back with a heavy sigh, and I raise a brow at her.

“Do I want to ask?”

“Probably not,” she says, and I know what that means.

“What’s going on?” I ask anyway, pouring a bit of sugar from the glass container onto my finger and stick it in my mouth, licking it off.

Harper shakes her head at me. “I’m just sick of the shitty assignments, that’s all,” she grumbles. “I’ve proven myself time and time again. I just don’t get it.”

I frown and set the sugar aside. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do. Have you tried talking to anybody at HQ about it?”

She snorts. “Yeah. I made the mistake of trying to talk to Noah.”

“Well, yeah, that was a mistake. What’d he say?” I remember him from my training days at the academy. He’s a few years older than us and is one of the top hunters in the organization—and he certainly knows it. The fact he’s ridiculously good looking is only more annoying. Did I still have an enormous crush on him? Absolutely. But I’ve done a damn good job scrubbing that from my memory.

“He gave me some bullshit response about utilizing my assets in the assignments that I’m given. I think it was meant to be some kind of backhanded compliment. I don’t know. I don’t evencare. I’ve been working my ass off, taking extra patrols and volunteering at the academy whenever I have a spare second. I’m hoping they’ll give me a better position come graduation.”

I bite my tongue. A part of me wants to offer to speak to my parents about it, but I know that might put Harper in a worse position. God knows they would use that as yet another opportunity to shame me for dropping out and not completing my training alongside Harper. “How are things going otherwise?” I note the hesitation that flickers across Harper’s face, and she lowers her eyes to the mug in front of her.

When she meets my gaze again, her expression is grim, her jaw tight and her forehead creased with tension.

“What’s that face for?” I ask.

“I know I’m not supposed to share information with people outside the organization, but you’re hunter-adjacent, so I’m going to tell you, anyway. Because this shit…it’s bad, Cami.”

I straighten against the back of the booth. “Uh, right. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I think it’s important that you do.” She glances around the room, making sure no one will overhear, then says, “The number of demon attacks in large city centers is rapidly increasing. Places like here and Chicago and New York. And we’re not graduating hunters fast enough to keep up.”

My brows knit, and I fight the urge to cross my arms as irritation prickles across my skin. “Is that why you’re taking on all this extra crap?”

---