Page 4

F OUR C AMILLE

Sleep continues to evade me since the night we got back from Portland. I spend hours staring at my ceiling or shifting from my back to my side, desperate to find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep. Nothing works. Nothing eases the foreign sensation in my chest that I can’t quite explain. It’s almost like a nagging ache that I’m forgetting something important. I know it’s missing, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly it is.

It’s shortly after ten on the third night of barely any sleep when I give up tossing and turning and switch on my bedside lamp to grab my phone. Dad’s always been a night owl, so I’m not worried about waking him when I hit the call button.

He answers on the first ring, his voice laced with concern. “Camille, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly to put him at ease. “I just couldn’t sleep and figured you were up.”

“I understand,” he says in a less panicked tone. “I’m about to head home from the office.”

I lean back against the mountain of pillows at my headboard, tucking my knees to my chest. “Sounds like a long day.”

“One of many to come, I’m afraid.”

“Right.” I stop my train of thought before it can speed away and exacerbate the anxiety making my lungs feel too heavy to take a deep breath.

“Do you have something specific you want to talk about, kiddo?”

“Not really,” I admit, plucking at a loose thread on my comforter.

He hums softly. “I spoke with your mom after you left her office. There were some logistics to work through regarding you coming back to the organization.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Thanks for figuring all that out.” I’m certainly in no headspace to do it.

“We still have some things to coordinate. I wanted to talk to you about your training with Noah.”

I groan. “Do we have to?”

“He agreed to accept a temporary transfer to Seattle to work with you, but I think a change of scenery might be beneficial. What do you think about coming to stay in New York for a while? You could train with Noah at Ballard.”

I sit up, my heart beating faster as I hug a pillow to my chest. “You want me to move there?” The fluttering in my stomach can’t decide if the idea is more exciting or terrifying. I adore New York, and being close to my dad would be great, but the thought of leaving Seattle is equal parts enticing and heartbreaking. As if packing my bags and boarding a plane will be accepting that I lost the love I thought Xander and I had.

“I’d like you to consider it, yes,” Dad says. “You’re welcome to stay with me, but if you want your own space, we can arrange an apartment rental. I’m not sure how long you’ll be here, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Distance will be good for you , I tell myself as pressure lingers in my rib cage at the logistics that’ll need to be worked out. “Okay…I’ll come.”

Dad makes an audible sound of relief. “I’m glad to hear it, kiddo.”

“I told Mom I’d defer my semester at UW to focus on hunter stuff considering how far behind I am in training and how much work I’ll need to do to catch up.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Like I’ve already lost so much. I bite my tongue at the sudden burn of tears in my eyes. “I’m—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Honestly, I’m really overwhelmed, Dad. I’m doing my best to stay clear-headed, but I feel my control slipping and I don’t know what to do. Now I have to book a flight and pack and pull out of classes and—”

“Camille,” Dad interrupts gently. “Take a breath.”

“Sorry,” I force out, my voice thick with tears as I try to blink them away, licking the dryness from my lips.

“You’re not in this alone,” he assures me. “Let me book your flight and contact the admissions office at your school, okay?”

“Dad, you don’t have time for all that. I can do it.” I just need to cry about it first.

“I know you can, but you don’t need to. Let your old man deal with these things. Let me take care of my little girl.”

His words pull at my chest, and I sniffle, my vision still blurred with tears. “Okay,” I finally say.

“Whenever you’re ready to leave Seattle, I’ll get you on the next flight to JFK. Sound good?”

“Sure. I’ll start packing some things and let you know. Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, kiddo. See you soon.”

We end the call, and I set my phone down as the building pressure in my chest gets too strong to swallow. I inhale a strangled breath and immediately choke on a sob that clogs my throat.

The weight of the world presses down on me and heat flushes through me as my limbs tingle. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the bile churning in my stomach and burning a path up my throat to recede. My thoughts race, and I rock against the pillows, white-knuckling the one in my hands.

I resent the tears that roll down my cheeks as my shoulders shake, but letting them flow seems to ease the weight in my lungs. The sensation of dread still coils around me like an unwanted embrace, making me lightheaded as I climb out of bed and pace my room. I need to move—I can’t sit still right now.

I swipe at the tears still rolling down my cheeks and try my hardest to focus on my surroundings in an attempt to ground myself and diffuse the panic attack. It feels as though it takes forever, like time slows to force me to endure the anxiety, but finally, the tears stop. Or maybe I’ve cried myself dry. I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. My eyes are tired and puffy, and exhaustion clings to every muscle in my body.

Crawling back into bed, I’m desperately grateful when sleep finally pulls me under.

After sleeping in for the first day in too long, I spend the next afternoon going through my things to decide what I’m taking to New York and what Harper gets to keep for herself or donate. It feels oddly therapeutic, as if I’m starting fresh, parting with things I no longer need.

It’s also helped to keep busy. The less free time I give myself, the fewer chances I have to relive almost dying at the hands of the devil and spiraling into a panic attack. It simmers just beneath the surface, waiting for me to let my guard slip so it can flood in with the power of a tsunami.

I pause my closet clean-out to have lunch with Adrianna and break the news that I’m leaving Seattle. We haven’t been as close since Phoebe and Grayson died, but I’ve done my best to keep in touch.

After a misty-eyed goodbye, I return to my apartment and spend the afternoon stress baking cookies, muffins, and several loaves of banana bread. I blast music and drink wine until I have a decent buzz, making my list of problems seem not so scary. It’s too bad the reprieve from one emotion gives way to a profound sense of emptiness the minute I slow down.

Collapsing onto the couch, I press a hand to my chest over my heart. I close my eyes, counting beats that feel hollow and untethered. My most vital organ is utterly broken, beating only for the sake of mocking me and my stupidity for getting into this mess in the first place.

Except, this feels deeper than heartbreak. It’s as if something in me has been severed, leaving jagged edges behind, and there’s nothing I can do to repair them. I’ve never disagreed with time being a powerful healer as vehemently as I do now.

It’s a day short of one week since Xander killed Lucia. I haven’t seen or heard from him, not that I expected to, but I haven’t stopped thinking about him. What happened to him after Harper and Noah dragged me out of the room of demons? I have no idea what follows the death of the monarch in the demon world, just that it’s caused turmoil in the hunter organization. Harper has been out of the apartment most days, and Noah flew back to New York almost immediately.

I resign myself to finish going through my clothes the rest of the day. After wrestling another sweater off its hanger and folding it to fit in my suitcase, I glance at my phone to check for any messages from Harper. It’s nearly midnight, and she’s been gone since lunchtime, either on patrol or in training sessions to expedite her hunter graduation. If I had to bet, part of her is keeping busy so she doesn’t think about Xander either. She’s not ready to address being related to him, and I don’t fault her for that.

The front door shuts as I zip my suitcase closed and exhale a soft sigh. I rub my eyes and yawn, walking out to see how Harper’s day went, in hopes she picked up food on her way home.

“Hey,” I call out as I open my bedroom door. “I went through my jackets and left you the—” My voice vanishes, and I freeze the instant I find Xander standing in my apartment, barely ten feet away.

He’s dressed casually in dark jeans, a black shirt, and combat boots. His hair is messily tousled like usual, and his jaw is shadowed with stubble. I’m not sure what to think about him not shaving in over a week. Was it intentional to make himself appear older? Or does he not care about keeping up with it? The flare of concern that invites makes my jaw clench, because as much as I wish I could switch off caring about Xander, that’s not something I can do—and I hate how weak it makes me feel.

Xander slides his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Hi.”

I blink hard, waiting for him to disappear, but he doesn’t.

He’s really here.

When he steps closer, I move back, keeping distance between us.

He frowns briefly as his gaze sweeps over my face. “Camille—”

“Why are you here?” I’m surprised at how even my voice comes out while my heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird in my chest. “You shouldn’t—You can’t be here.”

“I know,” he offers, but makes no move to leave.

I find myself stepping closer, my pulse in my throat as I repeat, “Why are you here?”

His chest rises and falls with a sigh. “We need to talk.”

I nod. I have so many questions, yet the only thing that leaves my lips is, “Thank you.” I have to get it out before he says what he came here for. I anticipate the look of shock on his face and continue, “For saving my life. I can’t imagine how difficult it was—”

“It wasn’t,” he cuts in, stealing more of the space between us. He’s close enough now I could reach out and touch him, but I keep my hands glued to my sides.

“Choosing between Lucia and you was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Everything that’s come since, however…” He trails off, pulling his hands from his pockets and flexing them.

“Taking the throne,” I offer.

Xander purses his lips, a conflicted expression passing over his features. He looks tired now that I’m seeing him up close, his eyes shadowed by the dark circles beneath them. “I haven’t taken anything,” he says. “I have to earn it. Prove myself worthy of it through the ascension trials.”

My brows lift. I’m not sure why I didn’t think there’d be more to it than killing the queen to take her place. “Is that why you’re here? Is this part of your trials?”

He shakes his head. “I had to see you before it all starts.”

I stare at him as understanding washes over me. “Because once it does…” I trail off. The ‘we can’t be together’ goes without saying.

“Once it does,” he echoes in agreement, nodding. “I don’t know who— what I’ll become, just that I won’t be good for you.”

I stare at him, resenting the burn in my eyes. The carpet continues to be pulled out from under me again and again. “You’ve gone ahead and decided this for me, have you?”

“Camille—”

“No,” I interrupt harshly. “You did this. You fucked up, Xander.” I bite the inside of my cheek, willing the burning in my eyes to recede. I can’t lose it right now. I will not cry in front of him. “If you had just stuck to the plan, none of this would be happening, and we could—”

“We could what?” His brows tug closer, and he shakes his head. “Live happily ever after? You’re not naive enough to believe that.”

Xander’s words are as sharp and painful as a slap to the face. I swallow past the lump in my throat, praying my voice doesn’t crack. “Get out.”

His expression softens just enough I notice the subtle shift. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“No, evidently you came here to break up with me—even though we aren’t together.” Despite my words, the feeling of my chest caving in threatens to steal my breath as I cross my arms.

He still doesn’t move. “I’m sorry.”

His words ignite fire in my gut, making my cheeks flush with warmth. “I don’t believe you.”

“I know,” he says in a low voice.

I exhale a heavy breath. “Just…Get out. Now.”

The glimmer of darkness in his eyes makes me think he’s going to refuse. That there’s more he needs to say. But after staring at me a moment longer, he turns and walks to the door, leaving without another word.

I rush to the door, shoving the lock over as the burning in my eyes becomes impossible to fight back.

Tears spill down my cheeks, and I fall against the door, choking on the lump in my throat. My chest tightens until I’m desperately trying to pull air into my lungs, and I slide to the floor as my shoulders shake with silent sobs.

I let myself cry until I can’t stand sitting on the floor any longer. Only then do I force myself up and go to my room, where I push the clothes I’d been sorting earlier off my bed and crawl under the covers.

Tossing and turning, I struggle to find a halfway comfortable position, cozy enough for the thralls of sleep to come.

When I open my eyes, my blood runs cold.

No, no, no.

I’m back in that place, that room. Lucia sits upon her throne, looking every bit as chillingly regal as she did that day.

I try to move, but I can’t. I’m stuck in place against the wall, watching the horror unfold exactly as it did the first time. And when Lucia appears in front of me, fingers wrapped around my throat, my lips part in a silent scream. Not for fear of my own life. But for what I know is coming. I’m powerless to stop it, forced to watch Xander take his mother’s life again.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

IT’S NOT REAL.

But when my eyes meet Xander’s pitch-black gaze, I almost forget. The air gets stuck in my lungs, and I choke on a gasp. I swear it’s happening in real time, as if Xander’s experiencing the nightmare with me. Something shifts in his expression, but it’s gone too quickly for me to decipher before the entire scene fades, giving way to endless darkness.

My bedroom materializes as I wake with a gasp, my chest heaving with each breath and my skin coated with sweat despite the shivers wracking my body. I press a trembling hand over my heart where it pounds so loud it drowns everything else out. Slumped against the headboard, my eyes burn with tears, my mind racing as I desperately claw for answers.

What the hell was that?