Page 46 of Homecoming: The Devil's Society

Shaking me off, he says, “No, it’s fine.”

His hand reaches the dark, circular metal knob, and it creeks as he turns it. The latch clicks, and the hinges creek the same way. Like no one has been in here since he left ten years ago.

The blinds are closed, so no sun shines in this room. It’s dark as we step in. E flicks the light switch, and my sneezes follow.

Completely untouched.

The dome light shines down on the space. Thick dust covers the wooden shelves with matching furniture. Along with anything else it could latch itself onto.

His twin bed is against the same wall as the window, the bedding is black which matches the wooden frame. Two hand-drawn pictures by a small child are the only things decorating the walls. On white paper, done in crayon, a stick-figure boy with his bat standing alongside his stick-figure dad. Next to them, a stick-figure woman in a triangle dress lays headless on the ground. Toward the edge of the paper, the head rests withX’s for eyes.

His mom.

Another one has black scribbles on it. I’m unsure of the meaning, but today is not the day to ask. This must be overwhelming to E, which worries me as dealing with emotions such as his own can be difficult.

I walk across the once cream carpet, which now looks like a filthy brown, to the shelves. One book is on it. As I touch the delicate leather binding, I realize it’s a photo album. The laminate pages tickle my fingers as I drag them along the top of it. “Can we take this?”

E clears his throat. As I peer over, I see him standing at his bed. “Yeah, I will have Rogers bring it over.” His tone is stoic.

“I slept here each night since I was five, with my bat next to me. Even during the night, I never let it go. My dad never made me feel different. He embraced my darkness.” He pauses briefly before continuing, “My mom was a fucking mess. Their room was across the bridge, that’s what I called it when I was little. But she always made a point to come stand outside of my door when she felt like screaming at my dad about me.‘The boy isn’t normal. We should be sending him away, not encouraging this madness. He is no son of mine!’were a few of the things she would say while doped up on pills. I always hated her. But I knew when I was ten, I had to leave with her. It was my last chance to experience shit outside of Vail before having to come back. It’s what led me to you, little bat.”

A single tear runs down my cheek to my chin, then drops onto my sneaker.

His head turns, looking over to me. “Don’t cry for me, little bat. I’m not. She got what she deserved. I just had to play the long game.” The corner of his lip lifts, his teeth playing with his lip ring mindlessly.

“Rain. Elijah,” Nate yells from somewhere in the house. We both look in the direction of the voice, then back to each other. E makes the first move, flicking the switch and returning the roomback to its dark state. I follow behind, stepping into the hallway and allowing him to close the door.

He shouts back, “Coming,” as we move down the hall and back down the stairs. As we do, I swear from the corner of my eye, I see a tiny frame with long, black hair disappearing into another room. I look again, but no one’s there and I can’t hear anything.

Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me.

We make our way downstairs and find ourselves in Nate’s familiar office, which smells of leather, cigars and vanilla. Sitting on the brown leather couch, I curl my legs into myself then cover them with my oversized sweater. E sits next to me, leaned back and his legs spread.

Nate is sitting behind his desk. This is the first time I have seen him so casual, wearing an army green Henley with gray sweatpants. His signature glasses are missing and his hair is disheveled as he rakes his tattooed fingers through it, moving the stray pieces off his face.

That’s when it occurs to me, Vail gets cold, Vail gets gray sweatpants season. I hide my smirk behind my sweater neckline. Acting like I’m cold, warming myself up.

Nate doesn’t bring up E’s bedroom. He has always been good about not pushing him.

“You both did exceedingly well during The Reckoning. The Elders were most impressed with your display of your party favor at the end. And your uncle won’t be missed, rest assured. With that, Elijah, you will be my right hand now. You are truly the only one I can trust in this organization. I’m not sure if you are aware, our Bishop was taken out the other night as well. Change in leadership is upon us. I’ve been assured nothing will change for our family. Now that you have returned, our family officially oversees the discipline and removal of garbage. While still keeping the police and judges under my portfolio.And Rain will be your right hand. The three of us need to stick together during this time of transition within the organization.” He pauses, rubbing his hand over his face while letting out a deep sigh. “People do funny things to get ahead. We will need to handle those appropriately. Opportunists will not be tolerated. Loyalty speaks volumes.”

Leaning forward, E clasps his hands together. “Understood.”

The familiar sound of a phone vibrating catches my attention as it rumbles on top of the wood desk. Nate looks down, squinting at the small print, then laughs, “Fucking Delacroix. The man is wound as tight as the noose Francesca had wrapped around her neck.” Then he continues to chuckle to himself.

E whispers in my ear, “They went to Harvard Law together, have known each other for more years than I have been alive. He is one of the few people my dad has around that I can actually fucking tolerate. He was likely the one in the warthog mask that we almost hit the night of the Reckoning.”

I nod in understanding as a wave of overwhelming thoughts rushes through me. There is so much more to this than I can even comprehend. But I will have to. I am a fucking Sinclair. It’s my duty. My eyes remain focused ahead as I watch Nate type a quick reply back. His gaze returns to us as he places his hands firmly on the wooden desk and stands. “Very good. Now you two go—rest. Oh, and maybe you can deal with the body still attached to your car? Things could get very busy for us soon.”

It’s later in the evening, the sun has set and a chill creeps throughout the house. One being from North Carolina, I am not familiar with.

E has been outside digging a grave for the majority of the day in the forest behind our house. He did it all by hand, which I thought was insane. Why get a digger machine? He said that was for the lazy. Who am I to argue?

At one point, I saw him walking back there with a head in one hand and legs in the other. I think he cut the guy up in the garage, as I didn’t hear any commotion in the house. And he wasn’t wearing any sort of bio suit, so I hope he burned the clothes after.

Sitting in the white tub with gold claw feet, bubbles cover my body up to my chin and the scent of lavender fills my nose. My head rests against the porcelain ledge. As the water becomes lukewarm, I lean up, turning the antique brass faucet. Hot, steamy water flows out of the tap, warming me up. Once satisfied, I turn it off and lay back down, closing my eyes as I relax. My mind for the first time in days is quiet. Or almost. One thing is floating around, but it doesn’t revolve around fear or worry. I can feel the bathroom door open as cool air drifts in.

Exhaling a deep breath, I turn my head and open my eyes. E is leaning against the bathroom countertop, wearing gray fucking sweatpants. My mouth waters as I nip my lip. The most sultry voice I’ve heard comes from me. “Come here.”

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