Elizabeth dropped to her knees just in front of Nadia, close enough that Nadia could see the soft dusting of freckles across her cheeks. The acrid smoke from the black stuff on the floor wreathed around her face. “You can have the truth. You know that. And you know the price.”

Join Elizabeth. Work with her. Learn from her, Asa’s voice whispered in her memory. You’ll learn enough to destroy her long before the One Beneath has a claim on your soul.

As before, Elizabeth dipped two fingers into the gunk and lifted her hand to her bared shoulder. By now Nadia could see how the burned lines on her skin began to form the symbol she’d found in the Book of Shadows, the one that had some connection to Mateo’s family. And those first lines—a regular burn would have begun to heal by now, but instead it seemed to have burned even farther into Elizabeth’s flesh, which was so red and raw that Nadia winced to look at it.

This sign shall mark His path. The road has three sections. What was that supposed to mean? Was it a way of keeping Asa in the world?

There was nothing Nadia hated more than not knowing. Her ignorance was the reason Elizabeth could get away with this.

Nadia thought things couldn’t possibly get worse until Verlaine ran in. Her expression as she looked down at Uncle Gary and realized what had happened—that was the worst.

Verlaine sat in a plastic chair in a pale, white hallway. In the distance she could hear the beeps and clicks of medical equipment, the hushed voices of doctors and nurses saying things she probably didn’t want to hear. Around her, though, everything was silent.

She hadn’t seen Mrs. Purdhy or Riley Bender collapse, but she’d listened to Nadia and Mateo’s descriptions. Black tar that burned like acid. Smoke rising from the floor. The look of panic in their eyes—

“What’s happening?”

Nadia’s voice shook Verlaine back to something like normal. She turned her head to see Nadia and Mateo hurrying toward her. It was only just after school had let out; they must have rushed over on Mateo’s motorcycle. Verlaine didn’t move, just watched them.

They really wish they could care, she thought.

“Is Uncle Gary okay? What’s happening?” Nadia repeated as they reached her. Maybe Verlaine looked even worse than she felt, because Mateo put a steadying hand on her shoulder as Nadia said, more gently, “Hey. Are you all right?”

“He’s just like the others.” Verlaine’s voice was hoarse from the crying she’d done earlier; the words still seemed to stick in her throat. “He’s in a coma. They can’t wake him up. They don’t know why.”

Her friends sat down on either side of her. Mateo said, “Where’s Uncle Dave?”

“Talking to the doctors.” She coughed and wiped beneath her eyes, which were still damp from her tears. “When my parents died, Uncle Dave and Uncle Gary hadn’t been dating that long. And back then, lots fewer g*y people had kids, so they’d never talked about it, you know? They were hanging out. Going clubbing. They were only about five years older than we are now. So when Uncle Dave got custody of me, he thought—well, that’s it. I’ve got a little girl now, and there’s no way this guy’s going to be up for that. But Uncle Gary stayed. He just kept showing up, and helping with everything, and changing diapers and taking me out in the stroller, like it was no big deal. Finally Uncle Dave broke down one day and was like, ‘Aren’t you going to leave me?’ Uncle Gary said he wasn’t ever leaving either of us. Not ever.”

Mateo put his arm around Verlaine’s shoulders, and Nadia took her hand. They were trying so hard. But they didn’t get it. They couldn’t get it.

They couldn’t see what it meant to lead a life where only two people in the world could really see you, really love you—because they loved you before it all went wrong. Everybody else got to have friends, parents, brothers or sisters, boyfriends or girlfriends, this entire universe of people who could love them. Verlaine got exactly two—her dads—and now one of them had been taken away.

“This isn’t the end.” Nadia lifted her head, and she had that stubborn set to her chin that meant her mind was set on something. “I’m going to learn what’s behind this magic, and I’m going to undo it.” She paused before adding, “No matter what it takes.”

“No matter what,” Mateo repeated, but the way he said it—well, it reminded Verlaine of the days before she’d really known Mateo, when she’d thought he was dangerous and potentially insane. The days when he’d scared her a little . . .

A third voice said, “Verlaine?”

She looked up to see Asa standing in front of her; once again he’d approached without making a sound. He still wore his coat, as if he, too, had rushed to her side. Why did a demon who seared anything he touched need a coat?

“What are you doing here?” Mateo rose from his seat and stepped between Asa and Verlaine, as if he could protect her. It was a nice thought.

“I didn’t know it would be him,” Asa said. “But I should have guessed. I didn’t. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“It’s not worth much.” Verlaine leaned farther back in her chair. She felt tired, as though she’d been awake for days. Her temples throbbed from the crying she’d done, and all she wanted was to go into Uncle Gary’s hospital room and curl up beside him on the bed. Maybe if she did, when she woke up this would only be a horrible dream.