Page 2 of The Devil's Waltz

Honestly, I never wanted to be a hunter—even before Danielle died. The only reason I didn’t resist when our parents enrolled me was because Dani was training, too. Whatever she did, I wanted to do, too. To be closer to her.

I’ve considered training without intending to become a full-fledged hunter. But there’s something stopping me from bringing it up to my parents. Maybe I’m worried they’ll think their antics are working and then double down on their efforts. I’m hoping once Harper graduates from the academy this year, she’ll train me on the down low. She’s currently consumed by training and school—yet another reason I wanted out. Being a hunter takes over your entire life, and I wantmore. Something I choose for myself instead of the life I was born into.

“It’s okay,” I finally say, tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear. Most of my brown waves are piled into a messy bun at the crown of my head,but some pieces always seem to escape while I’m working. “I really am happy for you.” It’s the truth.

Harper lost both of her parents during a demon attack a few years ago. Her response was the opposite of mine. Where I turned my back on the hunter’s organization, she dedicated herself even harder. Some days I struggle with the fear of losing her like I did Danielle. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister now. We’d do anything for each other—which includes me listening to her talk about the life I didn’t choose. I’ve gotten to a place where I’m mostly okay with it, and having Harper support my decision makes the sting of my parents’ lack of it a little easier to bear.

She smiles. “And that is why you, Camille Morgan, are my best friend. Well, that, and because you give me free lattes.” She lifts her cup and shoots me a wink before finally taking a sip.

I give a short laugh and roll my eyes, then glance at the clock behind the counter. “I should get back. Are you heading home now?”

Realization seems to dawn on her. “Shit, yeah. That’s why I stopped here. I left my keys on the kitchen counter earlier, so I’m kinda locked out.”

Shaking my head, I get up and walk back to the counter to fish my keys out of my bag. I toss them at her. She catches them easily and tucks them into her pocket as I add, “You better not lockmeout later.”

She nods with a faint grin, zipping up her black rain jacket as she stands. The rest of her ensemble is also black—leggings, T-shirt, and combat boots. The hunters’ unofficial uniform. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles around a yawn. “Fuck, I need my bed. I have training tomorrow morning before class, and I amsonot looking forward to the early wake-up. Whoever thought it was a good idea to double up on hunter training on top of getting an English degree is a dumb bitch. Past me really screwed present me.”

I offer a sympathetic smile, pausing when my gaze catches a figure in the front window. Before I can say anything to Harper, it’s gone. I have half a mind to consider the possibility I imagined it. It was probably just someone passing by or checking out the menu through the glass. I turn my attention back to Harper, who’s typing on her phone.

“I’m on the closing shift, so I’ll be home late,” I tell her. “Try to get a good night’s sleep.”

She sighs. “Yeah. I probably should have made that latte decaf.”

“Then it’s a good thingIdid.”

She blows me a kiss on her way to the front door. “There you go again, proving to be the bestest friend ever.”

I laugh, returning behind the counter as a few new customers enter.

Harper slips out the door, waving as she goes.

The rest of the night drags after Marie leaves. My eyes burn with exhaustion and my feet ache. By closing time at ten o’clock, I’m beyond ready to go home and crawl into bed. I have a weird feeling I can’t shake, along with lethargy clinging to my muscles. Like the hint of an oncoming panic attack. My body is trying to trick me into thinking something’s wrong, and I have no idea why.

I make quick work of the normal cleaning routine and finish by grabbing the garbage bags. Hauling them to the back of the building, I shove open the door with my hip and step outside.

The alley next to the café is almost completely dark, save for a faint glow from the light at the end of the street. My sneakers are silent against the dark pavement, still wet from the rain earlier today. I carry the bags around the corner, toss them into the dumpster, then wipe my hands on my apron as I walk back to the shop.

The sound of a glass bottle rolling across the pavement behind me halts my steps.

My breath catches, and I whirl around. Only to find nothing.

The breeze must’ve caught some loose trash. I exhale slowly, shaking my head, and turn to keep walking, picking up my pace. The streetlight at the opposite end of the alley flickers, and my pulse ticks faster as I close the distance between me and the side entrance to Hallowed Grounds.

A low growl rumbles through the damp air, and my heart lurches. My fingers just graze the metal handle before an ice-cold hand wraps around the back of my neck. A strangled sound rips from my throat a second before I’m yanked backward. White-hot pain flares along the side of my body when I collide with the brick exterior of the building across the alley. I don’t have time to catch my breath before I’m grabbed again, and my face slams into the same wall. I cry out, my head throbbing as I whirl around and come face-to-face with the most horrific creature I’ve ever seen. What should be the whites of his eyes are filled with an endless pitch-black darkness, and he bares his unnaturally white teeth at me, hissing sharply.

Demon.

Alarm bells blare in my head, shrill and entirely unhelpful now that it’s too late. Every fiber of my being screams at me to run, but my feet are blocks of concrete. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

Two years of hunter training, and I freeze when it matters most. Granted, I left the organization while I was still only doing in-class learning—before I could even gain any fighting skills.

But something in me still clicks on, and I push off the building, setting my sights on the mouth of the alley. One of the first things I learned in training was to never run from a demon—they love the chase—but my other option is having my ass handed to me. And that’s only thebest-case scenario.

My heartbeat trips over itself as my feet pound the pavement. I make it halfway to the the street before the demon snarls, making my blood freeze in my veins.

He slams into me from behind, and we topple to the ground. I yelp as pain lances up my side, and I can tell my elbow is cut up from the dripping blood down my arm. Everything moves in slow motion as the demon gets up and hauls me with him then shoves me into the cold brick wall again. He invades my personal space without hesitation, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he keeps me trapped against the building.

“Aren’t you a snack?” he purrs, his black orbs roaming over my body and making my stomach churn. His features are sharp enough to cut glass, so angular he’s hard to look at. Several bits of his shoulder-length, white-blond hair have escaped its tie and fallen into his face. He licks his lips before continuing, and the pitch black in his eyes fades into a hungry, blue gaze. One human enough that if I didn’t know any better, I might be fooled. It’s a dangerous trick that allows demons to go undetected. He lowers his voice and digs his fingers into my shoulders. “I’m going to enjoy devouring you.”

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