Page 24 of The Devil's Waltz

“Hi, honey.” She smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“School is going well?” Dad asks, bumping my shoulder with his.

I nod, flipping open the menu on the table in front of me. I get some kind of pasta every time we eat here. Tonight is lasagna simply because my mouth watered when I read the description. “The semester is ramping up quickly, so it’s keeping me busy.”

“And you’re still working at the coffee place?”

“Not as many hours lately, but yeah.”

They both nod, and I wait for one of them—my first guess is Mom—to bring up the demon attack from last week. My posture is uncomfortably straight, as if my body knows I’m going to have to defend myself, but when neither brings it up, I let myself relax a little.

Considering we’re here to remember the person we all lost during a demon attack, it’s the decent thing to do. To not make the conversation about my run-in with one and inevitably use it as a point to persuade—manipulate—me into training again.

There’s a brief moment when the waitress comes over to take our orders where I glance around the restaurant at the other tables—at the couples on dates, the families smiling and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. I suppose our table must look like that, too. A familyspending time together, making conversation over a meal. That said, it feels like the farthest thing from it. I’m only here to honor Danielle’s memory. Otherwise, I don’t spend much time with my parents. It doesn’t help that Dad moved to New York City to run Ballard, the most elite demon hunter academy in the United States, when he and mom divorced fifteen years ago.

I usually visit once or twice a year. I have no doubt he still wants me to return, but he’s nowhere near as persistent about it as she is.

I’m also certain Danielle would be happy I got out of the life our parents had planned for us both, just like I promised her I would.

“The life of a demon hunter is not one’s own.” She’d said that one night after coming back from an especially grueling training session. Her eyes had been tired, the dark circles beneath them making her appear older. “You should get out while you can, Cami. Do something more with your life. Do something you want.”

It takes me a second to realize the waitress walked away while I was stuck in the memory of my sister. I swallow hard, reaching for my water glass and taking a long drink, then ask my dad, “How long are you staying in Seattle?”

“A few days. Your mom and I have back-to-back meetings with some executives at HQ tomorrow. And there are a few training facilities around here I’d like to visit before heading home.”

I nod along, but I’m slipping away from the conversation, going back to that night, sitting on my bed with Danielle in one of the last moments I had with her. I cling to the memory, using it to harden my resolve to fight for the life I want, and remind myself there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Whatever happens, whatever my parents say to try to lure me back, I will never return to that life. I will never be a demon hunter.

“You’re welcome to join me,” he offers. “Some of the facilities are pretty high-tech. It could be interesting. Plus, we haven’t spent much time together this year. I’d love to see you more while I’m here.”

My stomach drops, and I exhale slowly. “Thanks for the offer, but I have class throughout the week. And then I’m at the café most evenings and weekends.”

“I thought you said you weren’t working as many hours there,” Mom interjects, sipping from her glass of merlot.

I sit straighter, struggling to leash the attitude fighting to surface and make me snap at her. “I did, but I’m still working there. And when I’m not, I’m studying or working on assignments for school.”

She says nothing to that, just sets her wineglass down and presses her lips together.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Dad says in a soft voice. “We’ll plan for something else soon. Maybe you can visit me in New York over winter break. I’m sure Noah would be happy to show you around the city while your old man is stuck at work.”

I force a laugh, not sure I want to explore Dad’s motivation for the latter suggestion. “I don’t need a tour guide.” Especially notNoah Daniels. “But I’d love to visit you. I’ll look at my exam schedule when I get home and send you some dates.”

He nods with a smile. “That sounds great.”

I’m grateful Dad doesn’t push me on spending time with Noah.Does he remember the crush I had on him years ago?I suppose it doesn’t really matter, and I’m certainly not going to ask. Dad has always liked Noah, probably because of his skills as a hunter, but he’s never trained with that cocky, emotionless brick of muscle and arrogance.

The rest of dinner is relatively quiet. I keep my gaze trained on my plate, pushing around the layers of noodles and forcing myself to swallow a small piece here and there.

My parents chat about the renovations Mom is doing at the house she kept in the divorce—the place I grew up. Dad offers to stop by and check things out while he’s around.

I tune them out, letting my thoughts drift back to the weekend, to unintentionally spending the night at Xander’s on our second date. I try to focus on what Phoebe said yesterday, about how it’s not a big deal. Theoretically, IknowI’m blowing it out of proportion, but that doesn’t allow me to stop thinking about it.

He hasn’t reached out since I ran from his apartment as if it was on fire yesterday morning. I can’t say I blame him.

I’ve almost texted him at least five times now. Every time, I type out the message but I can’t bring myself to hit send. It’s ridiculous, and I’ve never been so annoyed at myself or the anxiety that fills my chest every time my thoughts go back to it. I refuse to let my own messy thoughts sabotage whatever I might be doing with Xander. So I’ll give myself therest of the day, and if I still haven’t heard from him by tomorrow, I’llfinallytext him.

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