Page 89 of The Devil's Trials

I swallow hard, my pulse beating in my throat. “What does that have to do with you?”

She sighs. “Apparently her bitter ex-lover, Marcus or whatever, is pissed Xander is taking the throne and is trying to use me to threaten his way into the position instead.”

I chew my thumbnail, my knee bouncing as I quickly try to visualize my schedule. It’s only Tuesday, and I’m supposed to have training all week, but this is more important.

“Did I lose you?” Harper asks with a short laugh.

“No, I’m here. Just…hang on.” I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker before logging into my flight app.

“What are you doing?”

“Booking a flight.”

“You don’t need to come to Seattle. I’m perfectly safe. Besides, I’m going to be in New York with you in two weeks for Thanksgiving.”

“Of course, I do. This is my—”

“Don’t you dare say fault,” she cuts in firmly.

I sigh. “I was going to say, ‘this is my job as the best friend—to be there for you.’ If you can truthfully say that you wouldn’t do the same for me, I won’t come.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Harper groans. “Fine. Send me your flight info when it’s booked, and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Will do. And, uh, how much of this have you shared with the organization?” I’ll have to see my mom while I’m there, and if this comes up, I want to know what, if anything, is safe to talk about.

“About that…” She trails off. “I haven’t really. There’s some other stuff at play that I’ll explain when I see you, but no one knows this psycho demon put a hit on me. Well, except for Xander and Blake. Probably Xander’s council members, too.”

“I feel like I missed a bunch of chapters here, but okay. I’ll see you soon and we can talk about everything. Preferably over drinks. And tacos. And cookie dough. These are necessities.” Especially when I tell her I failed my first hunter test. The thought of that conversation makes my stomach hurt.

“Of course.” Harper offers a soft laugh. “I fucking love you, babe. Have a safe flight.”

“Love you,” I echo before ending the call. I toss my phone onto my mattress and exhale a shaky breath. The back of my neck prickles with unease, like the beginnings of a panic attack. I do my best to shove it away as I pack a duffel bag with some clothes and toiletries.

Traveling has always been a pain point for my anxiety. It’s not about being away from home so much as it’s being stuck somewhere—like a giant metal tube with wings in the sky—and knowing I can’t leave.

It’s fine, I tell myself.You can distract yourself with cheesy sitcoms for the six-hour flight. Youwantto do this.

I manage to get a grip on the doom spiral and stop it, or at least pause it. I book my flight using points, then send the identical text to both Noah and my dad.

I’m going to Seattle for a few days to visit Mom and Harper. I’ll let you know when I’m back.

Dad texts back first.

Everything okay, kiddo?

Based on his response, I have to think he hasn’t been informed about my test result. Same with Mom, otherwise she would’ve called to yell at me, I’m sure.

Yeah, all good. I just want to see Mom before Thanksgiving because I’ll be in NYC this year.

Sounds good. Enjoy your time in Seattle. Please send me your travel itinerary. Love you.

Will do. Love you.

I’m not sure if I’m surprised or a little disappointed that Noah doesn’t answer by the time I get to the airport two hours later, but I can’t worry about it. Noah being an ass is very low on my list of problems right now.

Harper meets me at arrivals when I land in Seattle, and we hug harder and longer than I think we ever have before getting in the car, damp from the light rain.

I wait until we’re out of the heavy airport traffic before turning to her. “Okay, spill.”

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