Page 147 of The Devil's Trials

“Yeah,” I say, my throat suddenly thick with emotion. “That sounds really great.” I didn’t expect to get into the Christmas spirit this year, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure my parents have the best time. After struggling through my relationship with them for so long, I don’t want to take these moments for granted.

An hour later, we’re sitting in the living room with the fireplace warming our faces as we eat pizza and pick out a movie to watch while decorating the tree. Mom put it up by the front window, making it the focal point of the room. It’s one of those pre-lit artificial ones, so all we have to do is hang the ornaments and maybe add some tinsel.

Dad sneaks Hawkeye a piece of pizza crust when Mom isn’t looking, making himself a new best friend before asking, “How has your visit with Harper been?” He takes a sip of his eggnog, which is mostly whiskey, waiting for my response.

I swallow a bite of pizza that suddenly tastes like cardboard. I hate lying in any scenario, but our complicated relationship aside, lying to my parents is the worst. “Oh, um, it’s been okay.”

Mom frowns, concern flickering across her features. “What exactly does that mean, Camille?”

My gaze drops to my lap, and I set my plate on the coffee table. “Um.” I sigh, shaking my head before looking at my parents again. “I’ll explain everything after the holidays, okay? Please? I really just want to enjoy this time with you guys.”

Mom and Dad exchange a worried look before the latter sighs. “Okay, kiddo. We want to have a nice holiday, too, but we’re concerned about you, that’s all. You’ve completely fallen off your training program, and if you continue the way you’re going, you won’t graduate.”

I keep it to myself that failing out of Ballard Academy is the least of my current problems.

“I promise you don’t need to worry about me,” I assure them. “Please trust me.”

“We do,” my mom says after several beats of silence, taking me by surprise. She takes a deep breath, a clear indication of the topic change, which I’m absolutely fine with. “Okay, are we watchingIt’s A Wonderful LifeorA Christmas Carol?”

I wake up in my childhood bedroom on Christmas morning to find little white flurries falling from the sky. It may not be a white Christmas, but at least it’s snowing.

Soft music comes from downstairs, and I slide out of bed, grabbing the throw blanket off the end, and wrap it around myself as I head toward the source of the carols.

I find my mom and dad in the living room, chatting softly as they drink their coffee. They look up when I walk into the room, smiling and getting up. Dad takes Mom’s coffee, setting both of their mugs on the small table beside the couch.

“Morning, kiddo,” he says. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” I hug him and then Mom.

“You too, honey,” she says, releasing me. “Did you sleep okay?”

By some miracle, I passed out shortly after my head hit the pillow and slept through the night, which so rarely happens it didn’t seem real. Maybe that was my gift from the universe. “Yeah, I did.” I glance at the time on my phone, blinking in surprise to find that it’s shortly after noon. “Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I slept that long.”

Dad chuckles. “No apology necessary. It’s Christmas, and we have nothing planned outside of the house. We can take our time to do whatever we want today.”

Mom smiles, looking at me. “Do you want to open your presents?”

I mirror her smile. “Absolutely.” I snuck downstairs before I fell asleep last night and put their gifts under the tree, knowing they’d be up before me this morning.

The three of us sit around the living room while Dad hands out the gifts. I watch while he and Mom open my presents to them, grateful for the light expressions on their faces. Mom loves the matching black joggers and sweat set and Dad is thrilled about the cookbook and new knife set. Luckily, I was able to have things delivered to Xander’s place before we left Vancouver, and I recruited Gio to pick out the knives and Harper to help wrap everything.

I open the gifts that Dad sets in front of me, excited to find a new e-reader, an emerald silk PJ set with thick black knee-high socks, and a shoebox full of my favorite sweet and salty snacks.

“Thank you both so much. I love all of this.”

Mom and Dad exchange a triumphant grin, and I can’t help but laugh, my chest swelling with admiration for the two of them. Not many people can say their divorced parents get along better now than they did when they were married, but Scott and Rachel Morgan are clearly better at being close friends and work partners than they were at being spouses.

“Who wants brunch?” Mom asks. “I’m making Eggs Benedict.”

We sit around the dining room table, and I lose track of the conversation Mom and Dad are having about a new training facility opening in Ontario, Canada next year. I pick at my food, forcing down small bites despite my nausea making each swallow a gamble with being able to keep it down.

After breakfast, I help Mom clean up and start prepping the side dishes for Christmas dinner. She put the turkey in the oven before I even got out of bed, but I’ll be damned if anyone but me makes the cranberry sauce. Growing up, that was always my job, and even with my nerves making my stomach queasy, I’m not prepared to give it up now.

We spend the afternoon cooking and listening to Christmas music, and it almost feels…normal. Almost. Except, the entire time, all I can think about is Danielle. At least she’s not completely alone, and she knowswe’re coming for her, but this is another year she is away from her family for Christmas.

It will be the last one, I tell myself before texting Xander a quick update to let him know I’m going to tell my parents about everything today.

I’m shaking the finishing dash of cinnamon over the apple pie filling after pouring it into the dough-covered baking dish when I can’t keep it in anymore.

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