He grins. “Thanks V. You know, I’m
really glad we’re doing this together. The three of us? It’s like old times, before—”
“I’m glad, too,” I finish before he can wallow in the memory of what happened. It’s the first time that the thought of actually completing this article gives me pause. Emory and I have built this fragile, new trust with one another, and the thought of breaking it makes my chest ache. He’s opening up to me, about Aubrey and Reyn, and who knows. Maybe if he had a little more time to get used to the idea, I could open up to him about Reyn, too.
Am I really ready to burn that all down?
I’m still thinking about it that evening as I add the details of the new rite to my notes, staring at all the material I’ve collected. Because of my access, there’s a lot here, and it’s solid stuff. The invitations, the notices about the rituals, photos I secretly took of the bunker, the tattoos. All of these things were meant to bond us together, and I have to hand it to them.
It’s worked.
I think of Sebastian jumping to my defense, Georgia and her shy smiles, Afton and her badass attitude. I think of Aubrey and the way she looks at my brother, hopeful and soft. I think of Tyson’s easy smiles and Carlton’s ridiculous comments. I think of Ben and Elana’s laughter, people who I used to think mean and elitist, but who I’ve found nothing but kindness. I think of Caroline sitting at our table and all the awed looks she gets for doing it.
We’re nothing like we were on that first night, sitting in the circle, confessing our sins. We were all a little broken then, shiftless like flotsam. This thing—these Devils—have always been a cruel, ugly thing. Maybe the havoc of the legacy breathes in all of us, but maybe I’ve been too quick to write it off.
Maybe we’re turning this into something better. Something good.
But just as soon as the thought comes, it passes. If it were only the twelve of us calling the shots, maybe it could be like that. But we don’t hold the power here. Whoever’s behind the resurgence of the Devils do.
Thanks.
I keep scrolling up, reading my texts with Reyn. A couple hours ago, I’d left him a plate of fried chicken in the front seat of his Jeep and shot him a message telling him where to find it. Hence, the Thanks.
And then, nothing.
I’m trying not to be ‘clingy.’ I might not know a lot about being with boys, but I’ve heard enough from Emory to know that’s not something a girl wants to be. It’s hard, but we’re still an hour away from when we usually meet at the window for a call. That’s what I keep telling myself as I stare at the text on my screen.
Thanks.
Suddenly, there’s a text below it, though.
Warren’s gone.
I sit up, thumbs flying as I type in a response. The same moment I send it, I get one from him, too.
Can you come over?
Can I come over?
I smile so wide my cheeks actually hurt.
Yes!
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. I spend a moment in the bathroom, making sure my hair doesn’t look stupid, before I hear the subtle sound of his footsteps outside my window.
He enters quietly, like Firefly slinking though the garden. I smile when I see him look up, but it fades quickly. He’s wearing a senior class shirt with a smirking devil on the front and soft, loose sweats. He looks tired. Hard-edged. Still.
“Hey,” I say, reluctantly reaching for him. “Are you okay?”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s deep and intense, biting, full of his harsh breath and insistent tongue. The spark in my belly ignites into a disorienting inferno. I grab two handfuls of his shirt and try to meet his fervor, but somehow I suspect that’s not what he needs. This is frustration and anger. Catharsis. Reyn kisses like he’s trying to give something to me, and that’s exactly how I kiss him back. Like I’m accepting it, taking it into myself and packing it away, nice and tidy.
Just as suddenly as it came, it’s gone.
He pulls back and sweeps the pad of his thumb against my cheek, all of his hard edges softening. He smiles. “Am now.”
Still reeling from the kiss, I watch his red lips form the words, but take a second to actually parse them. “And before?”
His hands slide away, smile falling. “Shitty day.”