Page 92 of The Devil's Waltz

The three of us walk around the room, looking over the photo collages set up on poster boards. A few of Grayson’s soccer trophies and Phoebe’s watercolor paintings are also on display.

Phoebe’s parents and Grayson’s mom chose to do a combined memorial, knowing how much their kids meant to each other, so the room is packed with people from both families. The actual service is tomorrow and is for immediate family only, which explains why this visitation is so well-attended.

The space is lit from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the faint aroma of roses hits me each time we pass one of the arrangements set up around the hall.

After an impossibly long hour of listening to stories about my friends and trying desperately to stop crying, I seek solace in a quiet corner of the room. I just need some time away from the crowd. My eyes burn, swollen from crying, and the guilt is still there, unabated.

My stomach drops when Phoebe’s parents approach, their grief-stricken expressions a punch to the gut. They each take a turn hugging me tightly, and thank me for being a good friend to their daughter throughout the years.

All I can manage is a choked, “I’m sorry.”

They will never know what actually happened to her, the same as Grayson’s mom will never know what happened to him. The story they were fed by authorities—influenced by the organization—was a fatal car accident, with enough proof to back up the lie.

Once they move on to speak with another group of mourners, I force myself to cross the room and pay my respects to Grayson’s mom. She is a blubbering mess, losing her only child less than a year after divorcing her husband. Her life is full of loss.

My cheeks are wet with tears when I walk away from talking to her, and I hurry to find Harper near the entrance of the room so we can go. We say goodbye to Adrianna, and get in the car to leave.

Exhaustion clings to every ounce of my being when we walk into our apartment, and I fall onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Harper follows, stretching her legs out and leaning her head against my shoulder.

I close my eyes against the lingering burn in them. “There’s something you should know.”

Harper leans away from me. “What’s going on?”

I blink my eyes open, meeting her gaze. “While I was in New York, I, um…I saw Xander.”

She stares at me. “Yousawhim.”

I nod. “And Blake.”

Her brows draw together. “Those motherfu—Did they follow you there? What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I explain everything to her, sparing no detail—including the kiss Xander and I shared when he dropped me off. By the time I stop talking, her face is ghostly pale and her mouth is set in a tight line. I knew this wouldn’t be an easy sell, but if we’re going to pull this off, we’re going to need help. Strength in numbers, especially those trained to fight.

Without a word, Harper gets off the couch and walks toward the bar cart on the other side of the room. Snatching up some tequila, she twists the cap off, taking a swig directly from the bottle as she returns to the couch and offers it to me. I take a large sip, cringing as it burns down my throat, pooling warmth in my stomach as it settles there.

Harper takes the tequila back when I pass it her way, taking another deep swig before setting it on the coffee table. “I don’t like this, Cami,” she says, shaking her head. “You might trust Xander enough, but I sure as hell don’t. And that friend of his seems even less trustworthy.”

I can’t argue with her there. Blake is…unpredictable.

“Are you saying you won’t help me?” I ask.

“I’m not saying that at all. But I think we need to loop in some backup. There is no world in which the four of us can overpower a demon of Lucia’s power. Especially when Xander and Blake are going to find it very difficult physically and mentally to act against their queen.”

I rehash the part of the plan where they are recruiting other demons to help, and she balks.

“If they’re doing that, I think we need to bring in more hunters than just me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want my parents to know about this. If they find out, they’re going to do everything in their power to keep me out of it, and I can’t do that.”

She takes another shot. “Okay, so we don’t tell Rachel and Scott. I don’t like that, but I suppose I can work with it.”

I arch a brow at her and hesitate before asking, “What are you planning, Harper?”

“I have friends in the organization that I trust with my life. Also, one hunter in particular I wouldn’t exactly consider afriendbut is extremely skilled. He would be an asset to this mission you’ve gotten us wrapped up in.”

The uneasy sensation that unfurls in my chest tells me I know exactly who she’s talking about, but still I ask, hoping I’m wrong. “Do I even need to ask who you’re talking about?”

She offers me a knowing smile, and my groan fills the room.

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