Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,91

Some fucking goggles and a Speedo? Jesus Christ. He was such a baby.”

When the laughter dies down, I pour each of us another shot and innocently ask, “It must have sucked last year without the Devils. Weren’t you supposed to be the next leader? All that seniority and you were just another Preston schmuck. Collins really won the war, didn’t he?”

“Psssh.” Emory waves a hand dismissively. “Not even.”

Carlton throws him a look. “Hey, man—”

“Nah, nah, check this out.” Emory leans forward, elbows on his knees, head swaying on his neck. Oh yeah, this guy is fucking wasted. “So last fall, I get this message. Some random alumni wanted to get the Devils back together, I guess. I didn’t know who these guys were—still don’t—but I know they’re bigger than Collins. So they fuckin’ made it happen.”

I fake a surprised laugh. “What, seriously?”

He nods heavily. “The catch was that we had to go super old-school. I’m talking rituals, acquiring collateral on everyone, initiations, the whole shebang.”

“That sounds…interesting.”

He points his glass at me. “It was fuckin’ epic, dude, you don’t even know. Made the shit we used to do look like child’s play”

“You had to find new members?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emory says, elbowing Carlton. “We had to go through so much crazy shit together. You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff they threw at us. But we killed it.”

“Made us tight,” Carlton adds, seeming just as lubricated. “You know, like family.”

Family. It’s all I can do not roll my eyes. “Speaking of family, I assume Sebastian was initiated?” I’ve seen the tattoo on his chest, but I want confirmation.

Emory nods. “’Course. He’s a legacy. We all agreed on him first off. I know you two have your differences, but him being your brother was the whole reason we brought him in.”

“I see.” I do the math. There were twelve chairs. That’s a lot of dicks to narrow down. Maybe some of those are for the alumni running the show. I only know of the three who were already there; Emory, Carlton, Ben, and now, Bass. “You added McAllister?”

Emory almost looks offended that I’d need to ask. “Absolutely. He was already in before he left freshman year.”

“Right.”

“And we let in Tyson Riggins,” Em adds.

I frown. The name is familiar. I realize I’ve seen it on the record wall at the pool. Micha mentioned him, but I figured he was just a hanger-on’er. “The diver. He transferred from Northridge, right?”

“Yep.”

That one sits strangely with me. The Devils are about legacy and exclusivity. “So you let in a kid from Northridge? Just some random nobody?”

Carlton gives me a nasty look. “Fuck off, Ty’s a good guy. The alumni wanted something different—”

Emory cuts him off. “No, not just different. They wanted us to go back to our roots. The Devils’ roots. The way people like Hamilton ran the Devils? That’s not how they used to be. Back in the day, things were less about popularity, money, and looks, and more about the quality of the potential Devil.”

“Sure, sure.” It sounds crazy to me, but if they want to water down their criteria, who am I to give a fuck? I narrow in on the information I want. “What about the Playthings? That didn’t change, did it? You still take them up the Stairway? Give them the mark?”

It’s not a tough question, but they exchange another long look before Emory says, “Well, that’s probably the biggest change.”

My eyebrows hike up my forehead. “The Playthings changed?”

“We still have Playthings, they’re just…” Emory makes a vague gesture, but it’s Carlton who interprets it.

“Members,” he says.

I put my drink down. “Excuse me?”

Emory elaborates, “Yeah, we have female members. Devils. Equals all around. They get their own marks and everything.”

“You’re shitting me?”

Emory grins at me, lifting his glass. “Nope. It’s kind of hot, too.” His smile twists into a grimace. “Well, unless it’s your sister.”

“Your sister,” I say, blinking in realization. “Vandy’s a Devil.” That thin slip of a girl. I’ll be damned.

“Sure. She’s a legacy, like Bass.”

I blame my considerable buzz for how long it takes for the pieces to click together. All the stuff I found in the bunker. The other six seats. The photos of the tattoos that clearly belonged to girls. The way my brother was so overprotective of Vandy when I’d fucked with her that night at his fight. Why they’d all rallied around Georgia when she and Syd went to the police.

“So, if someone—a girl—has a Devil’s mark tattoo, she’s probably just…a Devil?”

“Definitely a Devil,” Carlton