My brother continues giving out orders, and it’s weird seeing him like this. Commanding, organized, assured. He’s captain of the football team, so most of these guys are probably used to it, but me? I’m used to sitting at the dinner table next to the guy who uses his bread as a napkin and then eats it. But here, he effortlessly orchestrates where and when we’re pulling off this epic prank for the fundraiser.
I look down at the black card that had appeared in our lockers four hours ago.
A Devil should know how to make an entrance. You will gather at the ninth hour to announce your presence. Consider this your homecoming.
“All men speak in bitter disapproval of the Devil, but they do it reverently, not flippantly.”
Elvatio Infernum
I’ve barely heard a word of what Emory’s saying, however. I’m sitting in the middle of the couch, Sebastian on one side, Reyn on the other. His knee, thigh, or arm occasionally touches mine, and it’s perfectly benign. Innocent. But every single nerve in my body feels each touch like it’s the Fourth of July.
Between school, Devil meetings, and my evening driving lessons—five so far, and I even got to practice on the neighborhood roads last time—it seems like Reyn and I spend more time in the company of Emory than alone with each other. Every now and then, he comes through my window, sometimes to sleep over, but it’s frustratingly void of anything but light kissing and sleep. Ever since Emory tried to barge in that one time, we’re too skittish to push it.
My gaze keeps wandering to Reyn’s forearm. He’s got his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and sometimes he’ll shift or reach forward and I can watch the corded muscles there flex and tighten.
I tear my eyes away and try to focus, not just for my role in the prank, but also because it’s the ultimate rite. This will be, as the card says, our homecoming. Our public announcement that the Devils are not dead, but alive and active.
Emory suddenly turns to me. “V, you’ll be in charge of alibis.”
“Uh,” I stutter, brain rushing to catch up. Damn Reyn and his distracting forearms. “Wait. How exactly am I supposed to alibi twelve people?”
“With your position on the newspaper. You’re going to provide documentation that we’re all at the dance while the prank goes down.” He mimes pressing a shutter on a camera. “Snap, snap.”
Well, that sounds easier said than done.
Emory’s already onto the next thing. “Reyn, you’ll be the one who gets us in and out unnoticed, okay?”
Reyn nods. “No problem.”
“I have a question,” Ben says, holding up his hand like we’re in class. Emory waves him on. “What’s the point of all this? I mean, we’re not even making fun of anyone.”
Emory looks like he’s about to slap him upside the head. He reins it in, pushes his shoulders back, jaw tight. “How are you still not getting this? Being a Devil isn’t just about picking on underclassmen anymore. The point is to prove that the faculty can’t stifle tradition or legacy.” He turns his sharp gaze on the rest of us. “This is about showing them that the Devils are here. We’re in their school. We’re on their sports teams. We’re at their country club. We’re inside their institutions. The point isn’t to be a thorn in their side. Thorns can be pulled out.” His smile is dark and sharp. “But not us. The point is to be the blood that’s pumping through the veins of this place. It’s about power, and showing them who has it.”
I’m a little stunned by the outburst, and I can tell some of the others are, too. My brother is completely, disgustingly into this. His eyes search the rest of us, wanting confirmation that we understand how important this is to him—to us. When they meet mine, I give him a small smile of approval, although I taste bitterness on my tongue. Really, all he’s doing is proving exactly why I’m doing all this; to bring down the smug assholes that think they’re better than the rest of us—even if I am one of them at the moment.
“This prank is complicated,” Emory adds, “but all the other rites have led us here. We have the skills to pull this off, we’ve already proven that. It’s time to let the Powers that Be know we’re back in the game.” He rubs his hands together. “This one will go down in