Page 37

T HIRTY -S IX C AMILLE

I wasn’t expecting to have dinner with a bunch of demons and my best friend, but here we are.

Gio lures us into the dining room with his incredible cooking. The aroma of grilled steak, steamed vegetables, and garlic mashed potatoes fills the room, and my stomach grumbles as Harper and I sit next to each other at the table.

The others follow, taking their seats. While Xander sits next to me in the chair at the head of the table, Blake drops into the open one on Harper’s other side, much to her dismay based on the way she immediately fills her wineglass.

Francesca, Jude, Roman, and Gio sit across from us, while Greer takes the open chair on Blake’s other side, leaving the opposite head across from Xander empty. My stomach dips with a pang of sadness at the evident absence of Xander’s council member. I never met Declan, but I can tell how special he was to Greer by the haunted look she still carries in her eyes.

I haven’t really gotten to know the demons Xander trusts, though none of them are outwardly put off by a couple of humans dining with them, so I’m doing my best to keep an open mind.

Francesca, Blake, and Gio are the only ones close to my and Harper’s age, while Jude, Declan, and Greer appear in their forties—though being demons who age significantly slower, they could very well be much older.

“Dig in, everyone,” Gio announces, uncovering a steaming dish with mixed vegetables.

“Thank you for preparing yet another delicious meal,” Greer says to him with a fond smile.

“My pleasure.” He glances my way. “There’s a dark chocolate cheesecake with fresh strawberry coulis waiting in the fridge for dessert.”

I smile. “You know your audience.”

“ Oooh , you might have to fight Fran for it,” Blake says amusedly.

Harper snorts, leaning into Blake’s space to reach the platter of steak in the middle of the table, and stabs a piece with her dagger .

His eyes flit between her and her weapon, blazing with intrigue as she pulls her arm back, dropping the steak onto her plate.

Francesca whistles under her breath, smirking softly at Harper. She looks… impressed?

“Please don’t encourage her,” Xander grumbles, shaking his head.

I nudge Harper under the table with my foot, arching a brow when she looks over at me. She offers me a brief smile before setting the dagger next to her plate.

“Think we can get through a meal without any violence?” Xander asks, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate before offering the dish to me.

“With these two sitting next to each other?” I jerk my thumb toward our best friends before taking the potatoes. “Not likely.”

“Oh, come on,” Francesca chimes in, sprinkling salt over her plate before wiping her hand on the napkin in her lap. “Give poor Blake a break. He’s not used to being around a human that can kick his ass.”

“You are so right about that one, Fran.” Harper snorts at the same moment Blake scowls, though I can’t help but notice his lack of argument. Or Francesca not snapping at Harper for using the nickname I’ve only heard Blake use.

“I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship,” Francesca says, raising her glass and clinking it against Harper’s.

“More like a dangerous alliance,” Blake mutters, looking at Xander. “Are you just going to let this happen?”

Xander shrugs, taking a drink of his wine. “Yeah, I think so.”

I shove a spoonful of potatoes into my mouth to keep from saying anything. I don’t know how thrilled I am about a potential anything between Harper and the she-devil who, at one time, wanted the man I love, but I recognize that while Xander is mine , I have no claim to my best friend. And she’s smart enough to decide who she should and shouldn’t allow space in her life.

“Maybe we should talk strategy so we can make the most of the time you’re away?” Jude suggests, her gaze set on Xander.

He nods, any trace of amusement fading from his expression. “I agree.”

“Marrick is using humans, so I think we should start with them.”

Heads turn toward Greer, but she doesn’t notice, her eyes on her untouched plate. When the dining room falls silent, she glances up and sets her fork aside.

“Start with them?” Harper echoes, tension creasing her forehead.

Greer nods. “Marrick, as always, will cloak himself from view like the coward he is. Until he has his army, which he’ll believe is enough to protect him from his enemies.”

“In a perfect world, we’d stop him before the army is formed.”

“Who’s to say it hasn’t been already?” Blake says.

“A rare good point,” Francesca quips, earning a few snickers around the table, while Blake flips her off.

Roman shakes his head, wiping his mouth. “We’d hear whispers if Marrick had his army.”

“The hunters would know,” Harper adds. “There would be extensive reports and meetings across the North American facilities.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jude chimes in.

“ Yes . The humans would fight back,” Harper insists, gripping her fork tightly. “They won’t just give up their souls for nothing.”

Jude swallows her mouthful. “Some will. After all, humans are simple creatures. If you allow them to feel in control, and you can manipulate them quite easily.”

I open my mouth to take offense, but Harper’s scowl beats me to it.

“Fuck that,” she bites out.

“What I mean,” Jude continues, “is that Marrick is most likely targeting vulnerable humans. Those desperate enough to feel some sense of control over their lives.”

“You make it sound like there could be humans who’d willingly join him,” I say in a low voice, unease swirling in my stomach.

“It’s possible,” Blake says.

“So, how do we stop it?” Harper cuts back into the conversation.

Greer purses her lips for a moment. “I highly doubt Marrick is going to get this right immediately. He’ll be experimenting on humans. We should investigate disappearances in key locations—places with the most ley lines and high demon traffic between worlds. Cities and towns filled with chaos and suffering will be breeding grounds for this.”

Blake looks at Xander. “I will ask Will and Stephen to tap into their network in New York and see what they can find out.”

Xander nods. “Good. But we’ll need more. I want you to send out everyone you know. Have them scour these key locations and note anything that could help us.”

Everyone besides me, Harper, and Gio nod to their king. Gio has remained quiet for the majority of the meal, which makes sense with him not being an official member of Xander’s council. That said, neither am I.

“We’ll meet again once Camille and I return and make a plan for next steps with the information you gather.” Xander finishes his wine, setting down the glass. “Marrick’s plan to turn humans into demons jeopardizes the balance between our worlds, putting everyone in danger. Stopping him won’t be easy, but failure isn’t an option—not when the fate of both humans and demons hangs in the balance.”

Xander and I rent a car and drive to Seattle the next afternoon. We check him into a boutique hotel before driving to my mom’s house across the city.

“I should go in and see them first,” I say when we’re about ten minutes away. According to the itinerary my dad sent to our family group chat, he should already be there. “They won’t be able to listen to what I’m saying with their number one enemy sitting in the same room.”

Xander’s lips twitch. “You think I’d make it past the front door?”

“Good point.” I sigh, frowning at the thought of ruining their Christmas with the news I’m harboring. “Besides, they deserve to have a normal, enjoyable holiday before I flip their worlds upside down.”

This time of year has always been my favorite, but it’s difficult to enjoy the holiday season when I know my sister is suffering. And now I have to figure out how to explain that to my parents, along with how Xander is going to help me save her.

“When was the last time you had Christmas with both your parents?”

I consider it, doing some quick mental math. “Hmm, it’s been over fifteen years. My dad moved to New York after he and my mom separated, and since then, we’d celebrate Christmas twice. Once in Seattle with Mom and once when we visited Dad in New York. They’d alternate years on who had the actual day, but as Dani and I got older, the schedule became more dependent on what she and I had going on.”

We turn onto Mom’s street, where the houses on both sides are decorated with Christmas lights and giant inflatable lawn ornaments. Compared to that, the simple wreath on her front door looks a bit sad, but at least she made the effort to put something up.

Xander pulls up to the curb, shifting the car into park. “I know things are overwhelming and difficult right now, but try to enjoy your time with them before you have the conversation about Danielle. And while I can’t bring her to you now, I did send Blake to be with her for Christmas, so she isn’t alone and she knows we’re going to bring her home.”

Tightness seizes my chest as I stare at him, tears blurring my vision. “You did?”

He nods, reaching over to brush the hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear and letting his fingers linger against my cheek.

I lean into his touch, pressing my lips against his palm. “Thank you,” I murmur. Unbuckling my belt, I grab my duffel bag from the back seat, setting it in my lap as I take a deep breath, blinking back the remnants of emotion from my eyes.

“If you need anything, you call me. I’ll be here.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Okay.”

We both lean in at the same time, our lips touching in a kiss so tender I have to fight back a fresh batch of tears. And then I get out of the car, lift my bag onto my shoulder, and walk to the house without looking back. By the time I reach the door, I know Xander is gone without turning around. He wouldn’t take the chance of being seen by my parents.

It feels weird knocking on the door of the house I grew up in, but I lost my key years ago and never felt the need to get a new one.

Mom opens the door with an apron tied around her waist and her hair in a messy bun, and I’m hit with the warmth from inside along with…ginger cookies?

“Hey, Mom,” I say with a smile.

“Come in, come in,” she says in greeting. “It’s getting cold out there.”

I step inside and close the door, setting my bag on the foyer bench before Mom pulls me into a hug. When we step apart, she calls out, “Scott, our daughter is here.” She squeezes my shoulders. “He’s getting a fire started in the living room.”

“It smells amazing in here, Mom,” I tell her as we walk down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Why, thank you. I’ve recently taken up baking,” she says with a short laugh. “It’s quite fun.”

My brows lift. “Really?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised that your mother has a hobby.”

“No, I just…No offense, but I didn’t think you knew the word.”

“I guess you don’t want to taste any then,” she teases, walking to the stove and stirring whatever she has cooking. Hawkeye is curled up on a fuzzy dog bed near his food dish, and I bend down to pet his head.

“I didn’t say that,” I protest with a faint grin as Dad walks into the kitchen in jeans and a knit Christmas sweater he’s had since I was a baby. The fuzzy snowman slippers he’s rocking, however, are definitely new, and I adore them.

“Hey, kiddo.” He comes to where I’m leaning against the island.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, straightening and wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug.

We hang out in the kitchen while Mom pulls a sheet of ginger molasses cookies out of the oven and replaces it with a sheet of shortbread.

“I thought we could order pizza, have some of your dad’s special eggnog, and decorate the tree tonight. I know it’s already Christmas Eve, but I thought it might be fun to decorate together.”

“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 watching It’s A Wonderful Life or A 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 knows we’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.

My parents deserve to know what’s going on and what I’m about to do to save my sister—their daughter—from the pits of hell.

“I, um…I need to talk to you both.” I wanted to wait until tomorrow, but I can feel how close the dam is to breaking and I know once it does, I’m not going to be able to explain everything coherently.

“What is it?” Dad asks, already looking concerned.

“Is this about your training?” Mom asks.

“Not really, but I guess it’s somewhat related.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Mom leans against the counter, folding her arms over her chest.

“I think we should sit down,” I say, keeping my hands in the pockets of my hoodie so they can’t see how badly they’re shaking.

After exchanging a look with my dad, she nods, and we relocate to the living room. I send another text to Xander, asking him to come now, and his response is immediate. He’s on his way, and this could either go badly or fatally. There is no good outcome to the situation, but it’s something that needs to be done.

Mom and Dad sit on the couch while I perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of them.

“I guess I should start by explaining that I haven’t been visiting with Harper for the last month. I’ve been in Vancouver—with Xander.”

I watch as both of my parents’ backs go ramrod straight.

“You what?” Mom demands in a sharp tone.

“Please hear me out,” I rush to say, my chin quivering.

Dad takes Mom’s hand, holding it firmly as he keeps his eyes on me. “Why would you…I don’t even know what to say right now, Camille.”

I blink quickly, fighting the burning in my eyes at the disappointment in his tone. “I know. It wasn’t my plan. Things spiraled out of control faster than I could keep up, and all I know is that my life was in danger, threatened by a powerful demon who wants to take the throne from Xander.”

“That son of a bitch is the one who put your life in danger,” Mom snaps. “How could you possibly think he wants to protect you? All he’s ever wanted is to use you to get close enough to the organization to infiltrate and destroy it.”

My jaw clenches so tightly, my temples throb and my pulse ticks faster. “That’s not true. And I know it’s hard to hear and possibly even more difficult to believe, but I trust him.” I look between my parents. “I love him.”

“That’s what you wanted to tell us? That you’re in love with the king of hell?” Dad says.

I shake my head, hesitating for a moment that feels like forever before I whisper, “It’s about Danielle.”

Mom sucks in a sharp breath, choking on it. “What did you just say?”

I press my lips together, willing them to stop trembling so I can speak. “Xander had to complete three trials to take the throne. The final trial was in hell, and while he was there, he saw her.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, unable to stop the tear that escapes and rolls down my cheek. “Danielle is in hell.”

The blood drains from Dad’s face while he sits in silence, head shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry. “I’ve been trying to come up with the best way to tell you, but—”

“ Enough! ” Mom yells. “I won’t hear any of this.” Her eyes meet mine. “Your sister is dead, Camille. Whatever that monster told you is a lie. He’s trying to trick you, to manipulate you yet again, and you’re falling for it once more, like a naive child.”

My chest constricts as more tears spill down my face. “I wish it was a lie,” I tell her through my tears. “If it wasn’t true, that would mean Danielle hasn’t been suffering alone for the last five years. But she has.” I wipe my cheeks, sniffling. “And I’m going to bring her back.”

That seems to snap Dad out of his daze. He blinks hard, swallowing and wetting his lips before he says, “No. We’ve lost one child. There’s not a fucking chance—We can’t lose you, too.”

“You believe this insanity?” Mom says, turning her glare on my dad.

His jaw works and his eyes turn glassy. “You and I both know what happened to Danielle never felt right. Even after the funeral, we never felt closure. Maybe this is why, Rachel. Because she isn’t truly gone.”

Mom shakes her head as her eyes fill with tears at the memory of losing her daughter. “Even if…this is true. Camille, you cannot go to hell. Your father is right. We won’t lose another daughter to those monsters. We just—we won’t survive it.”

I reach for both of their hands, squeezing them until they look at me. “I promise you won’t lose me.” Of course, I can’t say what’s going to happen in the underworld when Xander and I travel there, but my focus right now is to reassure them as much as I can. Even if it’s nothing but hopeful thinking.

“This isn’t happening,” Mom says in a near-vacant tone, as if she’s talking to herself. Her cheeks are flushed and her jaw is set tightly. I want more than anything to ease their fear, but there’s nothing I can say that’ll make this easier.

The pressure in my chest expands as the anxiety simmering just beneath the surface twists my stomach into even tighter knots.

“He’s coming here now,” I blurt, unsure how else to say it and running out of time before he arrives.

Mom’s eyes snap to mine before she stands from the couch.

Dad follows suit, holding up his hands as if he’s going to be able to calm her down. “Rachel—”

“Get your daggers ready,” she snaps at him, reaching into the drawer of the side table next to the couch and pulling out a small but no doubt effective obsidian blade.

The sight of it gripped in her hand knocks the air out of my lungs as panic steals over me.

“Mom, no ,” I rush to say, standing to put myself between my parents and the front door just as Xander rings the bell.