Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

Emmy continued, “It’s an annual festival of sorts, but it basically boils down to local rich kids basking in the gloriousness of their privilege.” He laughed. “Yes, I know the type. Too stupid to set the bar higher because they’ve never been challenged.” Her eyes glowed bright, her skin glistening a little. What was going on? “It happens the night before Halloween,” she said, explaining her vast knowledge of something she barely knew anything about, “and it’s common to pull a prank as part of the ritual.” “Did you join in the festivities?” he asked. “Once.” She met my eyes. Once? When? “Didn’t he ever tell you, Will?” she asked me. I narrowed my eyes. Who? And tell me what? She had gone out on Devil’s Night? With who and when? But I sat there, acting like I knew exactly what she meant because I wasn’t fucking asking. She laid her forearms on the table, leaning in. “Did you ever find what I had buried under the gazebo when you burned it down?” she asked. “Or is it still there under the dirt?” I balled my fists. “All the shit you don’t know,” she said. “So clueless. It’s almost comforting how you don’t change.”