Page 9

N INE X ANDER

The last time I enjoyed a restful sleep was when I spent the night in Camille’s bed. That warmth and comfort have never felt so far away. I haven’t longed for something this human in…well, ever. Of course, that makes it happening in this instance more concerning, considering I’ve never been less human than I am now.

I try to shake off the unsettled feeling as I shuffle out of the bedroom in search of coffee and find Blake in the kitchen, shirtless, and making…I want to say pancakes?

“Did you leave me any coffee?” I grumble, leaning against the counter opposite him.

“And good morning to you,” he says with a wry grin, whisking the bowl of batter in his hand. He pauses to pour coffee into a mug and sets it in front of me. “There’s a very pressing matter we need to discuss.”

My brows lift as dread gnaws at me. Instead of doing what I want, which is taking my ass back to bed, I ask, “What’s that?”

“Well, you know what tomorrow is.”

I take a sip of my coffee, waiting for him to continue because I genuinely have no idea—nor do I particularly care.

“It’s Halloween, mate.”

“And your point?” I ask hesitantly.

“Hear me out. Things have been all doom and gloom around here for a hot minute. In light of that, I want to throw the most amazing Halloween party anyone has ever attended.” Before I can respond, he quickly adds, “I even bought you a costume.”

I nearly choke on a laugh at how ridiculous he sounds. “You did what?”

“Please hold.” He leaves the room in a blur of movement, coming back a few seconds later with a large paper bag. Shooting me a grin, he pulls out a bright red set of devil horns and a sparkly red tail.

“Fuck off,” I grumble at him.

“So that’s a ‘no’ to the party, then?”

I send a glare in his direction.

He pouts, dropping the costume back into the bag and leaving it on the counter as he returns to the stove, pouring pancake batter into the waiting pan.

With his back to me, he says, “Being that I’m not trying to kiss your ass, because you’ve already crushed my amazing party idea, I’m going to go ahead and tell you that you look like shit.”

I rake a hand through my hair, pressing my lips into a tight smile as I tap my fingers against the side of my mug. “Thanks, Blake. You’re such a pal.” I take a drink of coffee, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth spreading through me.

“I’m not going to ask, and you’re not going to fight me. After we finish devouring these pancakes, we’re going to feed the other hunger I’m sure is clawing at you.”

I exhale a sigh, peering down at the darkness of my mug. I’m not going to argue, because he’s right. I need to be at my strongest to face the first trial.

Once breakfast is ready, Blake sits next to me at the counter, drowning his pancakes in maple syrup.

I shove a forkful of pancake into my mouth and nearly groan. As irritated as I am, Blake makes a damn good breakfast.

I point my fork at him. “Are you planning on putting on a shirt?”

He glances down, smirking when his head lifts. “Does my semi-nakedness bother you?”

I chuckle. “Hardly. But we’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?” Which also makes me think the party was meant as more of a joke, or Blake figured the costumes would provide enough of a disguise to be safe.

“Ah, yes. I suppose my inhumanly impressive abs are rather—”

“Okay,” I interrupt and get up to take my plate to the sink. “Let me get changed, and we’ll go.”

“Actually,” he says, “we have to wait until tonight.”

“But you just said—”

“I know, I know.” He flicks his wrist, waving me off. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Blake shrugs. “So don’t. Just trust me.”

He knows I do, which is why I don’t respond to that, instead saying, “Can you gather the council? I want to strategize before the trials start.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and he nods. “Excellent. Give me half an hour.”

True to his word, thirty minutes later, we’re sitting around the living room. It’s too small for the seven of us, but we’re making it work. Blake, Francesca, Greer, and Roman squeeze onto the couch, while Jude takes the chair in the corner with Declan perched on the arm, leaving me standing in front of the unlit fireplace.

“I appreciate you coming on short notice,” I tell everyone.

“You don’t have to thank us,” Greer says, tucking a stray copper curl behind her ear. “We’re here for you. For whatever we must do to get you from here to your throne.”

“It is our duty and our privilege,” Declan offers, resting his arm on the back of the chair near Jude’s head.

My gaze slides to each member of my council, taking in their solemn expressions. “Most of you have lived in our world and among our kind longer than I have. And until now, I’ve been plagued by a part-human existence, which made my experience…challenging.”

“Are you concerned that experience will impede your ability to face the trials?” Roman asks, causing Blake to glance sideways at him, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“It certainly won’t help,” I mutter, leaning against the mantel and sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

Francesca sighs. “You need to let go of your human life.”

I look at her as Jude chimes in, “She’s right.”

“He knows that,” Blake says before I can.

“The trials are to test your ability to be the demon king.” Greer’s voice is level, and she folds her hands in her lap as she continues, “A human wouldn’t survive. And you won’t survive unless you let the human part of you go, completely and permanently.”

“I have.” The words are out of my mouth in an instant.

“You’ve embraced your demonic traits, have you?”

My eyes narrow at Francesca. “You’d like to test me?”

She purses her lips, then shakes her head. “Just making sure.”

“Based on the history of the trials we have, the first is the easiest test you’ll face,” Jude explains, then warns, “Don’t let that fool you into letting your guard down. It will be designed to do just that. You must give in to your newly strengthened demonic nature to be successful. Tune out everything else and follow your instincts.”

I nod. “Understood.”

“Besides that,” Francesca says, “the best way to prepare is by feeding to ensure you’re also at your strongest physically.”

Blake shoots me a grin. “Oh, I’ve got that part covered.”

The sky is dark when Blake and I pull into a nearly packed dirt parking lot at…a barn?

Unbuckling my seat belt, I turn to him. “I’m confused.”

“Remember when I reminded you about what today is?”

I arch a brow at him. “Yeah?”

“Well, Halloween means ‘haunted house.’ What’s better than feeding on one human? How about a building full of them?”

Huh. This might actually be a halfway decent idea.

“It’s a fucking demon buffet,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

Offering a short laugh, I say, “Nicely done.”

We get out of the car and join the crowd heading toward the barn. It’s a tall, wide building with a cornfield on one side and an apple orchard on the other. There are lights strung through the trees and ominous music plays from a loudspeaker. The air is crisp, and I get a whiff of apple cider and popcorn as we pass a concession stand. Overhead, the moon shines bright in the dark sky, casting the property in eerie light. It works in the attraction’s favor, if the distant sound of screaming is any indication.

Blake and I join the line, and he hums the tune of a classic Halloween favorite under his breath as we get closer to the entrance of the barn, where a machine is creating a thick curtain of fog between the waiting patrons and what lies ahead.

Heartbeats pound in front of and behind us, and I practically salivate at the sound. Though in tandem with the anticipation is a thin veil of nerves. The thought of failing my impending trial twists my gut into knots. It has me reaching into myself and shutting down the part of me that remembers what it’s like to feel those all too human emotions. As my pulse levels, my focus homes in on the reason we’re here.

A couple of guys wearing jackets marked STAFF wave us forward. I peg them to be high school age based on their scrawniness and the blemishes spattered across their faces. Blake and I exchange a glance, and his eyes, already glimmering with excitement, darken with hunger.

We step through the fog, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Wood floors and bits of hay crunch under my shoes, and I chuckle at the next round of screams that comes from ahead. The humans are drunk on adrenaline—likely some booze as well—and their fear is intoxicating . Even from a distance. I already know how energized I’ll be once I’ve fed. How much stronger. This is exactly what I needed. Leave it to Blake to figure that out before me.

Ominous music mixes with periodic crashes of prerecorded thunder, and Blake claps me on the back, shooting me a grin as his eyes go fully black. “I’ll catch you on the other side. Happy hunting, mate,” he says before disappearing in a blur of movement.

I continue through the entrance set up as a graveyard, the damp air filled with a musty, earthy smell from the dirt arranged to look like fresh graves. A system attached to the rafters above fills the barn with flashes of white light as I venture deeper.

The first room is a massacre scene. A masked man revs a bloody chainsaw, grinning maniacally at the bodies scattered around him. He steps closer as if he’s going to come at me, and I keep walking, pressing my lips into a smile as he follows me to the next scene, grumbling “What the hell?” under his breath.

Instead of wasting time walking through the different horror scenes, I close my eyes and listen for an erratic pulse and thundering heartbeat. I focus on the closest one and open my eyes, moving through the barn faster than any of the humans can track—the pitch darkness helps, though they couldn’t see me at this speed in the light, either.

When I spot my target, a growl of satisfaction rumbles in my chest. It’s a middle-aged woman, and it looks as if she’s here with a group of friends who left her behind. She seems frozen in place off to the side as she fights with the fear instilled by the hoax surrounding her. Even under a thick hoodie, I can see the uneven rise and fall of her chest as she gets close to hyperventilating.

I strike without hesitation, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her behind an animatronic. Her scream is lost in those of the others in the barn, her face draining of color when she spots the endless black in my eyes. Fear pours off her in waves that I drown myself in. Energy and power crackle through me at a near-dizzying speed. I feel stronger almost immediately, relishing in the terror reflected in the woman’s wide eyes. Tears fall down her cheeks as pathetic little whimpers escape her trembling lips. She sways on her feet, but I catch her before she can collapse.

“What…” She blinks, and more tears wet her face. “Why is this happening?” she cries, her brows drawn together. “This was supposed to be fun.”

“Your friends ditched you,” I mutter, keeping my arm around her waist. “How’s that supposed to be fun?”

She shifts away as she shakes her head, leaving us a few feet apart but still concealed by a stack of hay bales. “You’re not part of the attraction, are you?”

I cock my head to the side, my eyes flicking between hers. They appear clearer now. I’ve fed on her fear, which didn’t eliminate the emotion entirely, but it seems to have lessened it. “I am,” I lie smoothly, shoving my hands into my pockets. Keeping a low profile is still important with every hunter in the organization after me, so my prey needs to believe this encounter was part of what she paid for. “Clearly, I’m not very good.”

She backs away more, nodding slowly and chewing her bottom lip. When she turns without another word and hurries away, I don’t stop her. I got what I came for. It’s the first time I’ve fed on a human since I became a full demon. The act of feeding itself felt easier, effortless even. The energy racing through my bloodstream is incredible. My muscles feel stronger, my senses crisper, as if I’ve just awakened.

Is it the act of feeding without the guilt of a human soul?

If that’s the case, I should have destroyed my soul a long time ago.

Instead of overthinking it, I make my way through the rest of the barn and meet Blake at the exit. His eyes are alight with amusement and satisfaction.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some cotton candy and bask in the lingering fear of these pathetic little humans.”

As much as I don’t want to hang around here, there’s something to be said for absorbing multiple sources of fear at once without having to work for it, so I don’t argue.

We continue around the grounds, walking through a corn maze and past several photo ops Blake insists on stopping at.

“Too bad it isn’t Halloween year round,” Blake comments as we approach the section of the farm set up with different food trucks, and I nod my agreement. It certainly made hunting for prey easy.

Walking up to the first vendor without a line, my eyes narrow as I recognize the demon on the other side of the counter.

“Ah, shit,” Blake mutters, noticing Dominic the same moment I do.

“Your first trial commences now,” he says, handing over a glass of dark amber liquid. “Drink the poison and face what lies on the other side.”

I take the glass without hesitation, glancing over at Blake, who looks less than pleased. To be fair, I’m not thrilled about it either, but with the power zipping through my veins, at least I’m at my strongest.

Blake takes my arm, pulling me away from any prying eyes. We find a quiet spot along the side of the haunted barn, and I bring the glass to my lips. The liquid is thick and bitter on my tongue, and I force it down with a hard swallow.

It makes my throat tingle and my gut fill with heat. The night air feels cooler as my vision blurs, and I barely hear Blake wish me luck before reality slips from my grasp.

A dim hallway materializes around me, and after a few moments of my limbs feeling like static, the ground solidifies beneath my feet.

I stand in the doorway of an unfamiliar bedroom, but I know exactly where I am. My eyes find her immediately, standing at a dark window with her back to me and wearing a long-sleeved light gray pajama set. “Camille.”

She whirls around to face me, her expression pale with shock as I walk into the room, stopping a few feet from her. “Xander,” she breathes, and her features sharpen. “How did you get in here?”

I open my mouth to explain, but stop myself before the words form. I glance around the room, searching for something to confirm if this is a dreamscape, or a hallucination brought on by the royal guard’s poison.

“You need to leave,” she insists, snaring my attention again. “If he sees you—”

“Who?” I cut in sharply.

She blinks, folding her arms over her chest. “Noah. He’s in the shower.”

Those words shouldn’t feel like a dagger to the gut, but they steal my breath just as viciously. My molars grind as I bite back a growl, stepping closer to Camille.

“Come with me,” I tell her in a low voice.

Her lips fall into a frown. “Where?” She shakes her head as if to herself. “No. No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I cock my head to the side, searching her gaze. “But you want to.”

Her pulse ticks up. “I don’t.”

Before I can call out her lie, the doorknob rattles across the room, and we both turn to face it. I clench my hands into fists, straightening and preparing to take on the hunter.

Except when the door opens, it isn’t Noah.

I clench my jaw, my head spinning as I fumble for words. Only one falls out. “Mother.”

The late queen of hell glides forward, her black eyes locked on me, and says nothing. She’s dressed in a floor-length crimson gown, her dark hair pin straight. Her appearance is flawless, as always. Which is unsettling for so many reasons.

The most prominent being the last time I saw her, she was a pile of ashes at my feet.

This is a hallucination, then. That much I know for certain.

Still, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

Lucia’s eyes flick between me and Camille before she sighs. “Cleaning up your mess, as usual, my son.”

I grab her wrist before she can make a move toward Camille, recoiling inwardly from the ice-cold feel of it against my fingers. “I don’t need you to do that. I’m handling it.”

She laughs, and I stiffen at the condescending sound. “You’re ‘handling it’?” she echoes, shaking her head. “You’ll never be able to do what needs to be done when it comes to her, Xander. The human girl will be your weakness as long as she’s breathing.”

Camille stays silent, her expression unreadable. Nothing but the rapid beat of her heart gives away her fear of the situation. Which makes me think that perhaps Camille is experiencing this trial alongside me. And if this is real for her, if the royal guard is somehow controlling her dreamscape. That puts her in very real danger.

“I did what needed to be done, which is why you’re no longer here.”

Her eyes narrow, and she pulls her wrist free. “You believe yourself strong enough to sit on my throne?” Moving at preternatural speed, she grabs Camille, sinking her nails into her throat, making Camille yelp in pain and gasp for air. “Prove it.”

No sooner are the words out of her mouth does an obsidian dagger materialize in my hand. I glance down at it, my jaw working.

The options are clear. Lucia or Camille.

It’s not the first time I’ve been faced with the choice, but unlike the last time, I’m being judged by those who will determine my future. If I kill Lucia for a second time, I won’t be able to lie my way through an explanation because I’m being watched this time. But if Camille is truly here somehow, and I kill her… Fuck . I don’t have time to figure it out for sure. I can’t hesitate—that’s exactly what the royal guard is expecting me to do. They’re testing my weakness.

I have to believe this isn’t real for Camille. That, like Lucia, she isn’t actually here. I swallow the fear clogging my throat, reaching into myself and latching onto my newfound ability to switch off my emotions.

And then I let the dagger fly.

It finds its target in Camille’s chest, and her eyes pop wide before they roll into the back of her head as bright crimson seeps through the front of her shirt.

Lucia steps away, letting Camille’s lifeless body drop to the floor, and laughs loudly. “Hmm. Perhaps I was wrong.” Her eyes find mine once more. “Congratulations, Xander. You have passed your initial ascension trial.”

I don’t have a moment to process anything as the scene darkens, and the floor gives way under my feet, swallowing me whole.

The ground is cold and damp when I blink my eyes open and find myself propped against the side of the haunted barn. It’s quiet now. The only sound is the soft chirping of crickets and steady breathing next to me.

I glance at Blake when he murmurs, “Welcome back.”

We stand, and I groan and the ache in my limbs. “How long was I out?”

Blake shrugs, checking his watch. “Hmm. A couple of hours?”

It barely felt like ten minutes.

“And you stayed with me the whole time?”

He arches a brow, nodding. “Well, yeah. I couldn’t leave you slumped over out here. Someone could find you and would probably think you drank too much and passed out.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “We couldn’t risk having the cops called and your trial disrupted, so I kept watch to intervene if necessary. Nothing came up, though, so we’re good.” He tilts his head to the side, searching my face. “We are good, right? You passed?”

“I did.” There’s a burst of pride in my chest, but it’s tainted by the lingering pressure in my lungs.

“Dominic came by after you passed out. He told me your first trial would reveal your greatest weakness and force you to face it,” Blake says as we walk to the car, his brows furrowing. “So what’d you see?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. I need to do something now.”

“Do I want to ask?”

“Probably not.”

Blake lets loose a heavy sigh. “Well, one trial down. Only two to go.”

I chuckle softly, but it sounds more tired than humorous. “Ever the optimist. Thanks, Blake.”

“Anytime, mate. Now I hope this thing you need to do won’t take long, because we’re going out tonight to celebrate.”

I don’t bother arguing with him about the party, but I do say, “We can celebrate tomorrow.”

As soon as we get back to the house, I shut myself in the bedroom and drop into the armchair in the corner. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing. I’ve never dreamwalked from such a distance, but with my new power, it should be something I can do—so long as Camille is sleeping.

If she’s not dead. If I didn’t just kill her during my trial.

I exhale a harsh breath, shoving that thought away. I need to focus if I’m going to do this. I recall a conversation I had with Camille when she told me about a breathing technique to work through a panic attack and ground herself. I follow the steps she shared, inhaling through my nose and holding it, then letting it out slowly through my mouth. After repeating the exercise a few times, my nerves settle enough to focus my thoughts. I visualize going to her, finding her waiting for me.

The room spins behind my eyelids, but I keep them shut, gripping the armrests on either side of me as I continue breathing deeply until I feel the familiar pull of being transported into someone else’s subconscious.

I blink my eyes open and find myself in another unfamiliar space. I stand from the couch and follow the sound of a steady heartbeat I’d know anywhere. The relief flooding my entire body nearly throws me off balance.

I didn’t kill her.

I cross the room in a blur, pausing at a closed bedroom door before reaching for the handle and letting myself in.

Camille is standing at the window like she was in the hallucination, except I don’t have a chance to speak her name before she turns to find me walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” she says in a breathy voice, her heart racing, and looks around the room with a calculating gaze. She shakes her head, her brows pinched. “This isn’t real.”

I cock my head to the side, regarding her curiously. I expect her to bolt at any moment. That, or take a swing at me. Considering the way we left things, neither would be surprising—or unwarranted. “You’re asleep,” I tell her, “but this is real.”

Camille hesitates, crossing her arms over her chest. “How?”

“We’re sharing a dreamscape.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Rubs them. Blinks them open. She continues staring at me without a word.

“Still here,” I offer wryly.

She shakes her head, her expression shrouded in disbelief. “Are…are you in New York?”

“No.” I shake my head for extra measure.

Her back stiffens, and she takes a step away from me. “I don’t understand. You’re over two thousand miles away. How are you in my dream?”

“With the power I have now, there are fewer limitations on my abilities, meaning I can dreamwalk from a distance.”

“Okay, that explains the how . Sort of. What about the why ? To flaunt your newfound power? Because you can?” Her pulse ticks faster with each pointed question.

It’s impossible to ignore and offers a challenge to move closer. I wonder how close she’ll let me.

“What if it’s because I wanted to see you?” The question leaves my lips before I can clamp my damn mouth shut. Being this close to her, even in the realm of unconsciousness, is a test…in a lot of ways.

Camille clenches her jaw, her gaze hardening. “You—”

“I had my first trial tonight,” I cut in smoothly before she can attempt to throw me out.

Her posture doesn’t relax when her eyes leave mine. She glances down at her feet, then past me to the doorway. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You were there. At least, a hallucination of you was.”

Her eyes snap back to me. “Me? Why?”

“I had to face my weakness—my humanity.” You . If the thumping in my chest and the deep-rooted sensation of longing are any indications. I’ve done a halfway decent job of blocking out these feelings, but being so close to the focal point of them is proving to be something I’m not sure I’m strong enough for.

“Your humanity,” she says in a low voice, her eyes dancing over my face as if she’s searching for it there. Slowly, she shakes her head. “I watched you abandon your humanity when you drove that dagger through your mother’s heart.”

I ignore the barbed wire weaving through my rib cage. “We’ve all made choices.” Closing the remaining distance between us, I lower my voice and speak into her ear. “I’d face any consequence if it meant keeping you safe. Take my queen. Take my soul. As long as you’re breathing, nothing else matters.”

Her chin quivers, and she blinks quickly. The look of disbelief that splashes across her features makes me go utterly still. There’s a short intake of breath and then, “You lost your soul?”

She didn’t know.

“I thought…” My voice trails off. It doesn’t matter now.

“Is that why you’re doing this?” Her voice is small, growing more detached with every sentence. I can feel her slipping away from me. “Is that why you’re fighting for the throne? Because you want it now that you don’t have a moral compass to tell you right from wrong?” Her heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird just trying to survive.

I wet my lips, knowing whatever response I offer isn’t going to please her. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth!” She exhales a heavy breath. “Did you know killing Lucia would kill the human part of you, too? Was it all part of your plan to become king?”

My brows lift. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Desperation creeps into her tone, and I can tell by the way her jaw tightens that she loathes it. “I’m fucking lost, Xander.”

I find myself nodding in agreement, fighting the urge to admit that I often feel the same. Raking a hand through my hair, I slide my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “And you thought you’d find yourself in the Big Apple?”

Camille blinks at me, hesitating before she comes up with, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

I nod. “I wasn’t asking you to.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Good fucking question.

I exhale softly through my nose. “I didn’t kill Lucia for any reason other than to stop her from killing you. There wasn’t time to consider the consequences or consult a moral compass. Whether or not you believe my intentions were in the right place is up to you.”

Her heart pounds like a drum, her hands balling into fists at her sides. When she starts blinking faster, her gaze darting about, and sweat dotting her brow, I realize she’s tumbling toward a panic attack.

“Stop,” I say in a low voice. “I can see you spiraling. The guilt is clear on your face.”

Her jaw works, and she whispers, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

“I should,” she murmurs.

“Are you?” I repeat.

“No.” She swallows hard, her eyes glassy when she looks at me. “I’m asking you to let me go.”

Pressure clamps down on my chest.

“Camille—”

“We both knew this wouldn’t work. What we were doing was reckless before, but it’s nothing short of impossible now, and we both know it.”

I rub the stubble along my jaw. “Is that why you ran away and rejoined the organization you vowed you’d never return to?”

“No,” she snaps, her pulse ticking faster. “Why did you send Blake after me, anyway?”

I purse my lips, then tell her, “He was in New York already.”

She stares at me, searching my face as if she’s trying to figure something out. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Instead of crafting a not-entirely-truthful answer, I offer, “I wanted to see you.”

“Okay.” She looks as if she wants to say more, but doesn’t know what or how to articulate it. The tendrils of uncertainty are floating off her like ribbons of darkness, even within the dreamscape. The fear woven in them calls to me, and if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t hesitate to feed on it. But I can’t. Not with Camille. I’ve taken enough from her.

“I can feel everything you’re experiencing right now. The fear, the anger, and that pull you still have to me.” I steal the remaining distance between us in the time it takes Camille to blink, tracing my fingers along the side of her face. When she stumbles back, I catch her wrist with my other hand, pulling her close.

“Let go,” she breathes, her hands pressed to my chest.

I dip my face and speak low in her ear, my fingers lingering against her cheek. “We both know that’s not what you truly desire, mo shíorghrá .”