Page 78 of The Devil's Waltz

I chop the end off a pepper. “Noahhappened.”

“Uhhh, I’m going to need more than that, Cami.”

I keep chopping. “We ran into each other yesterday, and he took me axe throwing. We had some food, and then I went back to my dad’s.”

“Why does that sound like a date?”

I set the knife down, then crack an egg into a glass bowl, tossing the shell into the garbage. “Itwasn’ta date,” I say firmly.

“Damn. Twelve-year-old Cami would’ve died for a date with Noah Daniels. And here you are…denying you had one.”

“Yep,” I say, dragging out the word before moving on to chop a red onion, adding it to the bowl. “It was a nice distraction, but that’s all it was. I’m serious, Harper.”

Once I’ve whisked everything together, I find a frying pan in the cupboard beside the oven. Igniting the burner, I grab the bowl of egg mixture and pour it into the pan.

“If you say so.”

Instead of responding to that, I ask, “How are things there?”

Silence fills the line, and then Harper sighs. “A little complicated, but we don’t need to talk about it. Everything is being handled.”

I pause. “What does that mean, Harper?”

Another stretch of silence has my nerves perking up, the back of my neck tingling in response.

“In the last twenty-four hours, there have been a number of fatal demon attacks in several states.”

I press my lips together at the sinking feeling in my stomach. “I’m guessing this is out of the ordinary?”

“Yeah,” she says in a tight voice. “The reports coming in are triple what the organization is used to. It’s unprecedented. Everyone is working doubles. I’m at home right now to shower and then I’ll be heading back to HQ.”

The tension in my chest worsens. If everyone is being called in to work doubles, this isbad.

This is Lucia sending me a message. Reminding me she can hurt anyone. Whenever she desires.

“Harper, please be careful.” The worry in my voice is impossible to mask, and I’m no longer hungry for breakfast.

“Of course. Listen, I have to go, but I’ll check in with you later, okay? Try to enjoy your time there. And tell your dad I said, ‘hey.’?”

“Okay,” I force out. “Talk soon.”

After ending the call, I finish making my omelette, flipping it onto a plate and sitting at the breakfast bar. I poke at it, forcing myself to swallow a few mouthfuls and sip the glass of orange juice I poured, despite the unease churning in my stomach.

Worry has me close to texting Noah, but there’s nothing he can say that’ll change what’s happening. Hell, he’s probably too wrapped up in it to even answer me, anyway.

Once I’ve managed to eat most of the omelette, I clean the few dishes I used. Then I head upstairs to shower and get ready, for no other reason than a distraction from my thought spiral. I spend the rest of the afternoon tidying things and even wash the bedding from both bedrooms. I need to keep busy—I can’t let myself think about what’s going on with the demons.

My phone chimes from the coffee table, and I race toward it, expecting an update from Harper. Instead, it’s a message from my dad.

Going to be late tonight. Let me know where you want to go for dinner, and I’ll meet you there at 8 p.m.

I let out the breath I was holding, fighting the urge to ask him about what’s going on. It’s probably best to ask him in person.

I like that bistro around the corner.

Sounds great. See you there.

I chew the pad of my thumb for a minute, then start typing again.

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