Free Diabolical by Cynthia Leitich Smith

den of demons-in-training is busted. That changes everything.
    “Zachary,” Vesper calls. “What do you think? Who’ll be the first of us to hook up?” The curve of her artificially plumped smile is an invitation.
    I shouldn’t be surprised. Beyond Lucy’s, I didn’t notice the students’ reactions when Kieren and I walked in. But according to Quincie, one of Kieren’s finest qualities is that he has no clue he’s one of the most lusted-after heartthrobs at Waterloo High. And not to sound conceited, but humans overreact at the sight of GAs. They find us literally heavenly. Sanguini’s manager had to institute a policy forbidding touching of the staff to stop diners from trying to play with my hair.
    I settle for saying, “I don’t know. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
    “Who said anything about a relationship?” Vesper counters, blowing me a kiss.
    At that, Andrew takes his plate and glass and leaves without excusing himself.
    Vesper laughs. “What a goon!”
    Mrs. Bilovski brings my salad and dinner plate. Then Evelyn leans in and lowers her voice. “I guess, living together, it’ll be no time before we know each other’s secrets anyway. I’m a throwaway, not a runaway. An outcast.”
    She says it with bravado, not self-pity. I almost admit to having been cast out, too.
    “Did you and, uh . . .” Evelyn gestures down the table.
    “Kieren,” I supply. The greens are fresh enough, the maple dressing sweet.
    The Wolf tilts his head our way, but he doesn’t break from the other conversation.
    “Did you two ride in together from the airport?” she asks.
    “We drove in together.” Nora’s cooking has spoiled me. The trout is too dry.
    “You knew each other from before?”
    The doorbell sounds. I hear Mr. Bilovski’s voice from the foyer. Then he slides open the door separating the dining room and the living room. The girl student is barefoot in a black minidress. The boy looks like he’s off to prom in a thin red tie and pin-striped suit. Their eyes are dilated. They’re slightly swaying, trashed.
    “Party on, fools,” the boy calls. “For tomorrow we all die.”
    Before anyone can react, he passes out.
    Kieren shakes his head. “I’ll take him upstairs to sleep it off.” On his way out, the Wolf lifts the unconscious guy like a bag of flour.
    “I’ll help you,” Bridget volunteers.
    Following them, Vesper jiggles her phone. “I’m not getting any reception.”
    From the rear, Lucy pauses at my side. “We need to talk.”
    “Soon,” I tell her. “Very.”
    The new girl, Willa, joins me and Evelyn for dinner. She explains that she and Nigel (the intoxicated, self-appointed prophet) took a limo from the Burlington Airport. They drank the complimentary champagne on the way. “I only had a couple glasses.”
    “You don’t weigh much,” I reply over apple pie. “You’re probably dehydrated from the flight. That’s why it hit you so hard.” Trying to sound casual, I add, “By the way, what did Nigel mean by, ‘For tomorrow we all die’?”
    “He’s always been dramatic,” she explains as Mrs. Bilovski brings her a tall glass of water. “When we were kids, he used to dress up in robes and sacrifice lizards with sharpened Popsicle sticks. Of course, he had to cut off their heads first to make sure they’d lie still on the rock until he finished chanting. Then the pet store banned our whole family from the place, and, you know, lizards are hard to catch.”
    Evelyn coughs and sets down her fork.
    “Nigel’s your brother?” I ask Willa.
    Sticking three fingertips into her glass, Willa flicks water at her face. “No, he’s . . . My parents always referred to him as a guest. They raised him for as long as I can remember.”
    “Your family makes a habit of sacrificing animals?” Evelyn wants to know.
    Willa flinches. “Only Nigel.” As if reconsidering what she’s said, Willa adds, “Don’t listen to me. I’m tired and wasted, and that was a long time ago.