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Kylar barked a laugh.
Paxton and Eugene shared a look of bewilderment. “What does that mean?” the former asked.
“It means I prefer beds,” Darien lied. “But thanks anyway.”
Paxton shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Darien stepped up to the shelves of video games. He scanned the countless titles, some of them so old they had probably cost a small fortune to collect.
His gaze snagged on a movie poster on the wall. A young actress—eighteen, maybe nineteen—took up most of it. She had long, black hair, a school crest embroidered on her shirt. “Who’s this?”
Paxton blurted, “No one.”
“Doesn’t look like no one.” Darien turned. “You got a crush?”
“No!” Paxton’s face turned red.
Eugene said, “Yeth, he does.”
“I do not!” He pushed Eugune in the shoulder. “I just like the show.”
Darien scanned the poster again. The girl held her right hand aloft, wisps of black, violet, and green lacing through her pale fingers. Behind her loomed a school bigger than Angelthene Academy, lightning forking through the sky above it. A cat peeked over her shoulder with ghostly eyes.
“Project Shadow,” he read. “Nice.”
Another two posters were taped beside the first. The second sported supernatural beings with wings both leathery and feathered. Vampires, he guessed. The third poster showcased a city that reminded Darien of Angelthene but in far worse condition, and fuck if that wasn’t saying something.
He turned to face the kids, resisting the urge to pester Paxton further about his little crush. “So, you basically commandeered Roman’s attic and turned it into a clubhouse?”
The boys glanced at each other. In unison, they said, “I guess?” They shrugged—again, at the same time. Did these kids share a brain, or what?
“And you think Roman doesn’t know about it?”
“Oh, he knows,” Kylar chuckled. “They just like to pretend he doesn’t.”
Eugene crossed his arms. “Well, now we’re definitely going to have to tell him, since you two have seen it.”
“Gene,” Kylar rebuked. “He already knows—it’s his attic, you delusional termite.” He shot Darien an eyeroll. “Let’s leave these two dweebs to their geekery and have a drink, shall we?”
“Sure.” He followed Kylar to the ladder. As he passed the couches, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a hundred, and dropped it in Paxton’s lap.
Paxton snatched it up. “Sick!” He tipped his head back to give him an upside-down grin. “Thanks, dude.”
“Later, Pax.”
The TV came on, volume on full. “Later!”
They went down to the ground floor, where Kylar made an immediate beeline for the kitchen.
“Kylar,” Darien called. “Hold off on that drink.”
Kylar turned. “It’s almost four o’clock—still too early for you?” He flipped on the kitchen lights. The room was almost all white with steel appliances, the backsplash sparkling black tile. “I can make you a virgin, if you want.”
Darien snorted. “Fuck, no.”
Kylar pulled a bottle of whiskey off the rack and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “What made you come to Yveswich, anyway? We’ve got—what, five years to catch up on?”
“Something like that.” It was probably more like four years for Darien. He remembered coming here with a few of the Devils to go snowboarding about a year after Travis left this place, and of course Roman hadn’t allowed him to go. The ski hill was far too close to Donovan for Roman to be comfortable with his brother making an appearance.
