Page 29 of The Devil's Trials

I swallow hard, still catching my breath. “What do you want, Blake?”

“Me personally? Nothing.”

I stiffen.

“He wants to see you.”

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Why didn’t he come himself?”

Blake frowns briefly. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.” He flicks a piece of lint off the shoulder of his black peacoat and sighs. “Xander asked me to come. The logistics of his new role don’t allow him to move as freely as he’d like. Since the shift of power, he has a king-sized target on his back, courtesy of your lovely little organization.”

My eyes narrow. I want so badly to snap at him that the hunter organization isn’tmine, but I bite my tongue, caught up on the whole ‘king-sized target’ comment. I can’t help the pit of worry expanding in my stomach. Xander killing Lucia and taking the throne didn’t make me stop caring about him.

I wish it was that simple.

“You’re concerned,” Blake muses, a glint of something akin to surprise in his eyes.

“I—” I clamp my mouth shut. He’d see right through my lie, anyway.

Blake steps in closer. “I’m making sure he’s taken care of. I will always make sure he’s all right, by whatever means necessary.”

My mind goes back to when Blake and Xander ambushed me in New York the last time I was here—to the moment Blake seemed dangerously human, speaking of how he cared about Xander. If I trust anything when it comes to Blake, it’s that.

“How’d you even get in here?” I ask, glancing around the silent garage.

He shrugs. “I might’ve snapped the lock on an emergency exit door. It was easier and less noticeable than breaking in through the front entrance. I was going to make my way to your apartment when I saw you come out here. Perfect timing, by the way. Saved me a trip upstairs.”

I shoot him a glare, irritation prickling along my neck at his flippant tone. “I’m not going anywhere with you. If Xander has something to say to me, he can say it himself. Have you demons never heard of phone calls?”

Blake cocks his head to the side, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’d like me to ask the king of hell to give you a call, then?”

Shaking my head adamantly, I finally find my voice and say, “What exactly does it mean for Xander to be king? It doesn’t seem like the type of position to come with a job description.”

Blake’s lips twitch, and he leans against the side of a car. “Well,technically, he’s notofficiallyking yet.”

I frown. “Right. The trials.”

He waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, but as soon as he passes, he’ll be sworn in by the royal guard and take the throne forrealsies.”

I stare at him for several beats. These prerequisites seem like the type of thing that hunters should know about, though it isn’t something I remember from my first stint with the organization. Nor does it seem like something I’d forget had it been taught, which invites the question of why. Either there’s a reason the hunters higher up in the organization don’t lecture the trainees about the royal succession in the demon world, or they don’t have the history themselves.

“Demon got your tongue, love?”

I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. I should tell Blake where to go—though that’s less of an insult to a demon—but I find myself asking, “So that’s what Xander’s doing now? The trials?”

“Not yet. He had to select his council first.” Blake must see confusion when he looks at me, because he adds, “His support system.”

“Oh.” I hate the pit of jealousy in my stomach. The nagging feeling of being left out. It has no place with me, and yet I can’t shake it.

“You’re looking a little deer-in-the-headlights. Shall I stop?”

I shake my head again. “What happens if he doesn’t pass the trials?”

I’m surprised when his expression softens. As if he’s concerned about what telling me will do. “Camille—”

“What happens, Blake?” I push.

He sighs. “He’ll be remanded to hell, where he’ll spend the rest of his life. He won’t be able to come topside and will patrol the deepest, most depraved parts of the underworld.”

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