Page 153 of Devils' Day Party
“To sum it up succinctly,” Calix replies, exhaling sharply and then leaning forward. He pushes both hands up his face, loosing his mask. He pulls it off and tosses it aside, like he, too, has had enough of wearing a fucking mask. He said as much at the hotel, didn’t he? “My parents are monsters. I suppose Pearl didn’t have many targets she could actually shoot and hit.”
I shiver.
Some part of yesterday must’ve stuck with Calix, and hearing him use a metaphor like that just brings it all rushing back.
“I mean, she wasn’t wrong,” Barron adds, and both Raz and Calix give him death glares that make the hateful looks they’ve thrown at me over the years seem … watered down. “It’s not like you only made out with each other once. We had to beat the shit out of that kid freshman year to keep your first Devils’ Day party escapades under the rug.”
“Why don’t you just spill all our secrets?” Raz asks, leaning back in his seat, one leg thrown over the side nearest me, his leg encased in red leather, his foot tucked into a black boot. I reach out and play with a small bone-charm hanging from the laces.
“Actually, that’s a brilliant idea: spill everything for me.” I pop the top on the soda, taking a sip before Barron passes the vodka back to me. Upon closer inspection, I see that there are dried flowers floating in this one, too. See what I mean? There are themes that run between these days. Doesn’t matter if it’s expensive vodka in the woods or cheap vodka in a junkyard. This bottle is spiked with a bit of its own magic. “I told Barron earlier that I’ve been living in a time loop. I’ve lived twenty-five Devils’ Days in a row.”
“Oh yeah?” Raz asks, his blond hair sparkling with silver glitter. “And how did you spend those twenty-five days?”
“Courting the three of you mostly,” I say, taking my phone out—they don’t have a gatekeeper here like we do at Crescent Prep—and starting up one of my personal playlists. I set the phone aside and make myself comfortable, taking the joint that Raz lights and passes over the seat to me. “I’ve fucked Barron in Thorncrown Chapel, Calix in the Crescent Hotel, and Raz at my Aunt Donna’s cottage.”
“A time loop, huh?” Calix asks, reaching out for the vodka. I hand it to him, moonlight staining our pale fingers as they tangle together for a brief moment. “That’s an interesting Devils’ Day tale. I saw a ghost once. It wasn’t on Devils’ Day, but Halloween. Maybe some days are just tainted with sorcery?” Calix tips the bottle to his lips as Barron cracks the candy in his mouth.
Hope spikes in my blood, and I suck in a sharp breath, pulling in two lungfuls of weed smoke and magic. He remembers. Maybe not in the same way that I do, but he does.
“So you two made out in freshman year? And the year before? Am I getting this right?” I glance over at Raz as Calix’s face tightens up in irritation.
“Yeah, so? I’ll do anything to please a pretty girl,” Raz brags, lighting up a cigarette. When the joint makes its way back to him, he smokes it with one hand, taking a drag on his cig with the other. It’s the very picture of debauchery and excess.
“Is that so?” I ask, glancing over at Barron. He adjusts himself, so that he’s sitting on the floor, tossing his sketchbook onto his thighs and flipping the cover open. “Because there may or may not be a pretty girl sitting here now.”
Raz taps the ash off the end of the joint and passes it my way, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was so pissed earlier when I brought this up, so terrified I’d think he was gay or bi or something. I don’t give a fuck how he labels himself, just so long as I’m the one he wants.
“A pretty girl who wants to be pleased? Say it, beg me for it, and maybe I’ll do it?” Raz suggests, smoking his cigarette as Calix leans back in his own seat, steepling his fingers on his bare chest and crossing his legs at the ankle.
“First, you hit my car. Then, you tell me you love me. Now, you want me to kiss Raz for you?” he asks, looking up at the stars. I follow his gaze and notice a shooting star streaking across the heavens. Scrambling to my feet, I make a wish with my whole heart. Please end my torment, but only if everyone around me is safe. Just let them be safe. That’s all I want. Even if the night ends in a clusterfuck, that’s all that matters.
“That’s what I want,” I say, dropping my gaze back to his face. “I want to see you pushed out of your comfort zone.”
