Page 51 of The Devil's Waltz

It takes all morning for those feelings to pass. Instead of going for a run along the pier, I settle for the privacy of my building’s gym, where I’m less likely to run into a hunter. Considering only three people know where I live, and all of the real estate documentation for this place is under a different name, I’m relatively unconcerned about being tracked here. As angry and hurt as Camille is, it’s been a week and my door hasn’t been broken down by an army of hunters, so I think it’s safe to say she hasn’t told her parents about us.

I can’t imagine the secrecy going over well with that hunter friend of hers. Harper Gilbert is an interesting complication I can’t say I was entirely prepared for. Of course, I knew Camille lived with her, and herassociation with the hunter organization, but the connection I witnessed between them last week caught me off guard. Mostly by its similarity to what I have with Blake. I have no doubt those girls would kill and die for each other.

Turning up the speed on the treadmill, I sprint until my legs ache, begging for a break. And then I keep going. I don’t decrease the speed until I’m panting and my chest feels as if it’s about to explode from physical exertion. It’s a pleasant change in the pain I’ve been feeling there as of late.

I gulp down half my water bottle as the TV on the wall catches my attention. The sound is muted, but it’s a news broadcast about the increase in what the local police have told the media are “gang-related” attacks.

Demon attacks have never been this rampant in my lifetime. The hunters can’t recruit trainees as fast as demons seem to be pouring into the streets, wreaking havoc for the hell of it. Most are coming out of hiding from remote places across the world, but some of the most dangerous are coming from the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Places I never ventured to during my time there growing up. Creatures even I wouldn’t want to run into. A human wouldn’t stand a chance against the high-level demons. It makes me believe Lucia’s plan to take down the organization and hold power over the humans could work.

I turn away from the TV and cross the quiet room toward the rack of weights against a mirrored wall. Picking the bench at the far end of the row, I lift weights until my arms burn, my muscles trembling with the same exhaustion in my legs. I’ve been in the gym for close to two hours by the time I pull out my phone and notice the time.

There’s also a series of texts from Blake. The first one addressing the message I sent him after Lucia left earlier.

Geez. Queenie is getting a bit paranoid.

What the fuck does she mean ‘daily updates’? That’s all you, mate. Your mother scares the shit out of me.

Wait. If we live together, how am I supposed to bring home dates?

I roll my eyes, downing the rest of my water before typing a response.

That would require you to go on dates, so it’s really a non-issue.

Prick.

You set yourself up for that one.

I drag myself to the elevator and ride back up to my apartment, taking the longest shower I’ve had in a long time. When I get out and change into jeans and a T-shirt, there’s another message.

I guess I’ll pack my shit and bring it over later.

There’s an extra key in the safe I keep at the bar. Don’t lose it.

Fine, fine. What’s the combo? 666?

Your humor is lackluster today.

Please. I’m fucking hilarious.

I don’t plan to respond, but then Blake sends another text.

I paid a visit to your human, as requested.

The sudden unease in my gut makes my brows knit. It’s too risky for me to go to Camille right now, but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about her.

How did it go?

I like her, mate. She’s very fiery.

I roll my eyes.

What happened?

We had a quick chat. I let her know you’d be in touch when you can, and while she seemed like she wanted to say more, her response was ‘okay.’

I only realize I’ve been clenching my jaw when my temples start throbbing. I type out another message, intending to end the conversation.

Thanks for the update. See you later.

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