Page 21 of The Devil's Trials
Arriving at Ballard Academy half an hour later, I find my gut twisted with nervous energy. I’ve never been here, only heard of the high-level training facilities. Most of the organization’s top hunters come from this place, including Noah, who drums his fingers along the steering wheel as we pull off the main road onto one made of dirt.
After a few minutes on a winding drive, we reach a wrought iron gate with a small security shelter. Someone pokes their head out and gives Noah a wave before the gate ahead beeps, then slides open. Noah smiles at the male guard as we pass and continue on.
The main building looms beyond a large parking lot. It stretches wide and at least five stories tall, its exterior a sleek blend of glass and steel that reflects the pink and orange hues of the sunrise. The walkway leading to the entrance is lined with manicured shrubs, adding a touch of green to the industrial look of the facility.
I clench and unclench my hands in my lap as we pull into a paved parking lot, and Noah parks his SUV at the end of a row of matching vehicles. When he cuts the engine and unbuckles his belt, I can’t force myself to follow suit. I just sit and stare at the sign we parked in front of, becauseof courseNoah has his own parking spot.
Noah was recruited by the organization back when they scouted institutions for smart, athletic candidates who, once they passed all of the background checks and tests, were invited to interview for an upper-level government position. At least, that’s how they framed it. Once the candidate passed enough of their cognitive and physical tests, they found out what job they were really being recruited for. At that point, it was up to them to decide if they wanted to join the organization. Noah was the perfect candidate. He’s a clear success story of the organization, which has to be why they love him so damn much.
“This is the part where we get out of the car.” His tone is teasing, but it does nothing to ease the heavy pit in my stomach.
“Yeah. I just…need a minute.”
He sighs. “Class starts in—”
“I need a fucking minute, Noah,” I snap.
He turns to me. “What is it?”
I shake my head, not sure I’ll be able to put words to what I’m feeling. Not in a way he’ll understand, anyway.
“You need to trust me if this is going to work, Cam.”
I swallow hard and nod, hesitating for as long as I can before the words I hate the most fall from my lips, “I’m scared.” I can’t force my gaze from my lap.
There’s a beat of silence before Noah says, “Look at me.”
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t—
“Camille.” His tone isn’t harsh, but the use of my full name snares my attention and gets me to look over at him. “What are you so afraid of?”
I let out a humorless laugh that says,You’re kidding, right?
Noah presses his lips together, turning in his seat so he’s angled toward me. “It’s just you and me today.”
My brows lift. “What about class? Don’t you have a bunch of trainees to teach?”
He grabs his phone off the dash and taps on the screen for a few seconds. “There. Class covered. We can take one of the private rooms.”
I blink at him and offer a hesitant, “Okay.”
“I know you’re going through a lot, and this—training again—is overwhelming. I also know you’d much rather have someone else for a mentor, but your mom was right, even if you don’t want to admit it. I’m your best shot.”
I stay silent, mostly because Idon’twant to admit it, but also because I’m not sure what else to say.
Noah chuckles. “Are you ready to dive in?”
I nod, grabbing my water bottle from the cup holder as we get out of the car. Following Noah away from Ballard’s main entrance, my brows knit as we walk to a smaller, nondescript door around the side of the building. Noah pulls a key fob out of his jacket pocket and taps it against a black panel beside the metal door. There’s a smallbeepbefore he pushes it open and gestures for me to walk ahead.
I take a deep breath and step through the doorway as Noah flicks on the lights. Taking in the room that can’t be much bigger than my apartment, I walk around the outside of it. I let my fingers skim over the cardio machines and weight lifting equipment as I make my way back to where Noah stands, having closed the door behind us.
This place doesn’t look much different than the gym in my old apartment building that Harper dragged me to on a handful of occasions before giving up. Except this one has massive windows on either side of the door we came in through, but they must be one-way, because I didn’t see inside as we approached the building. The ceiling height is insane, and exposed pipes give the room an industrial feel, paired with dark blue painted walls. Where normal gyms would have mirrors covering at least one wall, I’m relieved this one doesn’t. I don’t need to see myself getting knocked on my ass. And I have an awful feeling it’s going to happen more than once.
Noah crosses the room, shrugging off his jacket and setting it on a small table before connecting his phone to a sound system that starts playing music with a catchy beat. He turns back to me and points to the row of cardio machines, including a treadmill, an elliptical, and a spin bike. “Warm up with a light, ten-minute jog on the treadmill, no incline.”
“Right,” I say, walking over to the treadmill and setting my water bottle in the cup holder as I step onto the belt. I push a few buttons to get the treadmill moving, then glance sideways to find Noah leaning against the wall on his phone. My cheeks flush hotly when he looks over to find me watching him, and I nearly scowl at the way his mouth ticks up at the corner. He leaves his phone and approaches as I turn my attention to the treadmill screen, untying my hoodie from around my waist and hanging it over the machine out of the way.
“You need to build your endurance,” he says in a level tone. Gone is the arrogant, sarcastic Noah I’m used to. In his place is the demon hunter extraordinaire the organization worships.
