Dee’s POV

“Okay, so,” Whitney began, putting her hands together and looking at the cast iron entrance to Beerzebub’s critically. “So you won’t go into a haunted house, but you’ll go into Satan’s playground?”

“To be honest,” Saoirse said, scratching at a healing cut on her cheek courtesy of her being too friendly with the strays who liked to sometimes party near her hall’s dumpster, “I kind of understand the appeal.”

The side-eye ...