Page 72 of The Devil's Waltz

“Mr. Morgan,” he greets Dad before turning to me. “Ms. Morgan.”

“Brody, this is my daughter, Camille.”

I offer an awkward wave. “Hey.”

Brody cracks a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Nodding, I give him a quick once-over. Despite being a skilled demon hunter, Brody gives me giant teddy bear vibes. He has curly, brown hair and hazel eyes. I feel tiny as we move closer to him. This guy has to be at least six feet tall and isseriouslybuilt.

Dad unlocks and opens the door, and I walk inside ahead of him.

I drop my bag in the guest room before curling up on the couch in the living room, snagging the quilt off the back of it. It’s one my grandmother made years ago, and wrapping myself in it provides a semblance of comfort. I angle myself to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows across the room, taking in the view of Central Park. The trees have started turning, providing a warm mix of colors. There’s less variety inside Dad’s apartment. Everything is muted tones of gray and black and white. The high ceilings and dark hardwood floors give the space a sophisticated feel, but nothing about it feels personal. He’s never had an eye for design.

I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t spend much time here.

Dad comes into the room with a mug in each hand, handing me one. “It’s lavender tea,” he says as I wrap my fingers around the mug and lift it to my nose, inhaling slowly.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

He nods, setting his cup on the coffee table and sitting in the chair across from the couch. “I read your mom’s report on the incident your friends were involved in, but do you want to tell me anything?”

I take a sip of the tea before setting the mug down. “I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

Dad offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m not asking in any official capacity. And if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, too.”

I press my lips together for a moment before exhaling an uneven breath. “Watching Phoebe and Grayson being killed by a demon…It felt like I was reliving Dani’s death. I’ve never felt so helpless, Dad.” The tears are back, and I make no effort to hold them back. They roll down my cheeks, and I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. I inch closer to a panic attack, the anxiety simmering just beneath the surface. And no matter how many deep breaths I take, the suffocating sensation refuses to dissipate.

“I understand, kiddo. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better, but if nothing else, I’m glad to give you a break from Seattle. You know I love when you visit me. You’re welcome here anytime.”

I manage a watery smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Once we’ve had dinner, I leave him watching a hockey game in the living room and crawl into bed. I send a quick check-in text to Harper and my mom before setting my phone on the nightstand. Rolling over to face the window, I curl onto my side and pull the blankets up around me. After a day of travel, I’m grateful when sleep finds me quickly.

Dad is gone when I wake up the next day. He left a note stuck to the coffee machine, letting me know he’ll be at work until later. I rummage through the kitchen and settle on a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and eat on the balcony.

After getting dressed, I head out to explore the city.

Brody is in the same spot outside the front door, sipping from a to-go cup as I step into the hallway.

“Morning,” I say.

“Hey there,” he replies. “Heading out?”

“Um, yeah. I can’t stay cooped up all day. It’s too nice out.” Plus, the whole idea of this trip is to be a distraction from what happened in Seattle.

He nods, glancing at his watch. “I’m supposed to accompany you if you leave the building.”

“No offense, but I don’t really want company. I don’t suppose you’d look the other way?”

Brody offers me a smile.

I exhale a sigh. “Of course not.”

I spend the morning walking around Central Park, sipping a chai latte and nibbling on a jumbo pretzel as I try to ignore Brody.

He keeps his distance, but I know he’s there, keeping his gaze trained on my every move.

Still, I pretend my life is someone else’s, smiling at tourists and locals alike as they pass me by. I vaguely wonder if I look like a tourist or a local myself as I pause at the Bethesda Fountain, staring at theAngel of the Waterssculpture atop it. Getting lost in the intricate details of the angel’s wings, I take a deep breath and glance skyward, allowing myself to enjoy the warmth of the sun against my face.

---