Devil's Advocate: The Anti-Divine Comedy($19.99Value)

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Lucifer meets Succession in a rich blending of dark comedy and supernatural elements, from the acclaimed author of Aces Wild and Wren Martin Ruins It All . Faith is no longer built in the church or in the temple or at the sacrificial altar. It's built on the six o'clock news. The Devil went down to Georgia—and started a media conglomerate. Ada Faust's dad isn't just kind of an asshole, he's the Devil himself, and he's been bringing about the end of days for millennia. But even the Devil must adapt to thrive, and nothing will look better for the bottom line than if oil-executive-turned-politician Nelson Campbell wins the US Presidency. In fact, the world will get so apocalyptically bad that the Devil can retire and appoint one of his heirs to take over as Antichrist. Ada doesn't want the end of days, but there can only be one Antichrist, and she wants one of her half-siblings to have the job even less. While they clamor to insert themselves in Campbell's presidential campaign, Ada gets an internship with Senator Perry Harlow, his competition, to sabotage him from within. It's genius. Foolproof, even. Except for Hasan Attar—goody-goody half-angel, perpetual thorn in Ada's side, and also one of Harlow's interns. Hasan knows that Ada is up to something, so Ada does what the devil's daughter does best: She lies and convinces him they're on the same side. But the more Ada works with Hasan, and the closer they get, the more she realizes it feels good to do the right thing, even for the wrong reasons. With the campaigns heating up, Ada has to make a decision: You can be a good daughter or a good person, but with a dad like hers, you can't be both. Juggling apocalyptic stakes and sharp family dynamics rooted in rivalry and dysfunction, Ada’s sardonic narration keeps the tone buoyant, lightly sketching an accessible supernatural world without sacrificing momentum. The result is an entertaining offering that blends celestial bureaucracy with teen angst. —Publishers Weekly Ada narrates a quickly developing plot, incorporating snappy, Gen Alpha lingo. . . . This book makes a powerful statement, while at the same time offering a glimmer of hope for a better future. —School Library Journal DeWitt explores themes of social and political justice, and readers will notice parallels to current events, but these topics don’t distract from her complicated coming-of-age journey. A delightfully diabolical read. —Kirkus Reviews Amanda DeWitt is an author ( Aces Wild and Wren Martin Ruins it All , Peachtree Teen) and collector of hobbies, including costume sewing and longsword fencing. She graduated from the University of South Florida with a master’s degree in information and library science. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her dogs and one tiny cat. Chapter One If Ivyside Preparatory Academy has taught me one thing, it’s to make the most out of my time. For example: If you’re going to get sent to the principal’s office, you might as well get something out of it. For some people that could mean a lesson that will serve them later in life. For me, it means Principal Harker has a really nice paperweight that I’d like to get my hands on. “Ms. Faust,” Principal Harker says with a sigh so heartfelt it could win an Academy Award. “How did I know it would be you in my office this afternoon?” I tear my eyes away from the paperweight. It’s a black resin pyramid with a layer of glitter that probably swirls around when you shake it. Kind of tacky, but Izzie would like it. And I’m a good friend, even if I’m not a very good student—a well-behaved student. I’m good at everything else. The rules are the only problem. “I can’t really speak on your relationship with precognition, Mr. Harker,” I say, “but it sounds like you were onto something this time.” Harker’s expression is distinctly unamused as he drops into the chair behind his desk. No. Bad. I need him to look away if I’m going to swipe the paperweight and make this meeting even a little bit worth it. Otherwise I’m just in trouble for no reason. “Very funny,” he says blandly, and I get the feeling he doesn’t mean it. Principal Harker is six foot three and has an eyepatch. In a badass way, not a pirate way. It’s been a gleeful source of speculation for the entire student body since he started at Ivyside. Some people think he was a Marine. Some think he came from one of those tough inner-city schools and a kid took it out in a fight, which sounds a little dramatic to me. What I do think is that he came to Ivyside thinking it would be an easier gig. Supervising a bunch of nerds duking it out over the order they’ll get into Ivy League schools? Easy. You could sleep through it. Only now he’s figured out that any group of teenagers stuffed into a building is going to be a powder keg waiting to go off. The only difference is that at Ivyside Prep they’re all rich enough that they can get away with it. Like . . . well, like me. To be honest. I keep telling him that he s