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Wandering eyeballs. Dark Prophesies. Mothdevils. Being evil is a lot of hard work! Crafty schemes, diabolical devices, and handlebar mustaches don’t just happen, they’re the result of steadfast determination and proper upbringing. For 11 year-old Dakota, being the "chosen one" of evil can be even more of a drag, especially if your heart isn’t into it.

Devious is a madcap middle grade novel that explores the pressures of growing up evil. From the overachieving parents, right down to the hired goons and seedy underbellies, it’s all here. Throw in some goblins, robots, and secret societies, and you’ve got yourself the recipe for a maliciously good time.

Dakota looked at the eyeball, its normally shiny surface crusty with dirt and dust. That eyeball sure was filthy. Dakota was never really disgusted by such things, but he always wondered how Stampt could deal with it always collecting so much gunk. Too many times he saw the eyeball wander back from its adventures and Stampt would have to clean off whatever dirt, smudges, or marks it had picked up. Sometimes the eyeball would leave tracks around the house, rolling along and depositing a trail behind it Dakota would have to wipe up.
     But then it dawned on him: Stampt’s eyeball could draw the map! All he needed was some ink and paper. He could dip the eyeball in the ink and let it roll out a crude drawing showing them where to go. Kind of like a treasure map, but instead of gold and jewels, it would lead to a ugly, scabby, goblin buddy - treasure of a different sort. Dakota’s father had huge stashes of paper, pens, and ink in his office. After all, proper evil people always hand-wrote their blackmail letters for a truly personal touch.
      Dakota gathered the materials and ran back outside, flicking on the porch light and nearly smashing into Miranda in the process. He pulled out the vial of dark, black ink and bent down to pick up the stray eyeball. He placed it in the palm of his hand and talked to it carefully. "Ok. You know what’s going on, right Eye? We need a simple map showing us where Stampt is. Then we’ll get going and have everyone back together before my parents get home."
     The eyeball spun around, happily, rolling off Dakota’s palm and diving into the ink well. It launched itself into the air, spraying black beads of ink across the porch before rolling onto the paper. Once there, it proceeded to roll its goopy trail, a trail which slowly seemed to make sense. The eyeball didn’t have the artistic ability to sketch a perfect map, but it was perfect enough to give Dakota an idea where to go.
     Miranda tore a piece of fabric from her dress and wiped the eyeball clean. "Do goblins ever get their eyeballs confused? Does one goblin ever get another one’s eyeball by accident?"
     "I don’t know," Dakota said, waving the map to dry the ink.
     "I’ll bet they do, sometimes. Especially if they all get filthy like this."
     "Maybe. But maybe they just know which belongs to which, like a dog. You don’t see many dogs running off with someone they think is their owner but isn’t."
     "Yeah, but some do," Miranda said, setting the eyeball back down. "There are some pretty stupid dogs."
     "There’s also stupid owners."
     "Good point. But I’m glad my eyes stay in my head where I can keep an eye on them."