A Deal with the Devil - Angel Lawson Page 0,101

a bathroom stall two periods later. Inside is a card with instructions.

We commend your trust and loyalty, but neither can be wielded without a pledge of permanence.

Meet your partner at Cain’s Ink, Thursday at 4pm.

“The devil’s agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?”

Elevatio Infernum

Well, that’s vague.

Inside the envelope is a flimsy slip of paper bearing a Devil’s pitchfork, about the size of a quarter. The paper looks familiar to me, like one of those temporary tattoos we used to get when we were kids.

Cain’s Ink.

Ink. Permanence. Flesh. Blood.

Oh my god, they want me to get a tattoo? On my body? Of a pitchfork?

Emory has lost his damn mind!

I find him outside the science lab talking to Aubrey. “Can I talk to you?”

He shrugs at me before nodding a farewell to Aubrey. He pulls me next to the water fountains and asks, “What?”

“Do you really think I’m going to get a tattoo?” I try to whisper, but it still comes out sounding loud and shrill.

Frowning, he shifts me over and looks around to make sure no one heard. “I think you are if you want to be part of this.”

“A tattoo! That’s, like, insane.”

“It’s the rules, V. If you walk, that’s fine, but know the whole school will find out about your pill addiction.”

I gawk at my brother. My brother who has protected me, always. “You’d seriously release that video.”

“I don’t think you get it.” His hand clenches around my arm. “I’m not in charge of this, Vandy. I don’t even have the video. There are powers that be. I’m a recruit, just like you. Christ, I told you what we were getting into. I told you this is for life. What were you expecting?”

Something about this stuns me. I’d gotten into this to get information, to make a point, to establish myself as a serious writer, but now I’m supposed to permanently brand myself with the symbol of this group. Isn’t that a step too far? And using the video to make me compliant and keep my silence—that’s outright blackmail.

“Look, I tried to keep you out of this.” He looks frustrated when he steps away. “But I thought this was what you wanted—to make your own choices.”

“It is,” I weakly insist.

“Well, this is how that works.” His shrug is hapless. “Sometimes, you make a choice and you have to stick with it, even when shit gets dicey.” Before he walks away, he adds, “You better get it somewhere seriously invisible, because if Mom or Dad sees it, they will have an entire herd of cows.”

I’m still stewing over this when I walk into the science wing’s bathroom, later that day. Afton and Elana happen to be at the sink, reapplying makeup. Afton’s eyes catch mine in the mirror reflection. “What’s up with you?”

Even though there’s no one else in the bathroom but the three of us, I’m not really expecting her to speak to me.

“Nothing, just….” I pump soap into my hand. “Well, did you get your envelope?”

Elana says, “Yep,” and Afton nods while coating her lips in a shiny gloss.

“Don’t you think it’s going a little too far?”

Elana shrugs. “I’m putting mine on my hip.” She touches the spot she means.

“I think it’s sexy,” Afton declares, snapping the gloss cap on and dropping it in her purse. She turns and sits on the sink. “Plus, it’ll be nice having a little memento. In ten years, when I’m married to someone disgustingly rich and starting my own designer label, I’ll be able to look at it and remember the glory days. I mean, all of us just broke into rival schools, unnoticed. We’re bad ass, gorg.” She finishes, expression pensive, “Let’s face it, being a Plaything will probably be the most meaningful thing I’ve done at Preston.”

Despite the arrogant elitism of the school, it is involved with some good projects. Habitat, food drives, tutoring in low income communities. The fact a secret society is the most meaningful thing Afton will do here is a little concerning.

“Are you scared?” Elana asks, turning to me. “Of the pain?”

“No,” I reply. “I’ve handled my fair share of needles.”

I expect a reaction, an apology about being insensitive, but Elana just fishes out her mascara wand and says, “It’s not as big a deal as it seems. Look at these things, they’re tiny. You could cover it up with something else, or hell, it’d probably take less than three sessions to have it lasered off. My cousin has three. She says it

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