“Yeah, but I don’t think completing the symbol is a big deal. I think it’s more about . . . strengthening the symbol. Calling on it. Reinforcing it. Every time Elizabeth burns it deeper into her shoulder, the symbol gets stronger. And so does her spell.”

“Which means what? The One Beneath gets to enter our world?”

Nadia gave her a look like it was bad luck to even say that out loud. Maybe it was. Verlaine decided she’d be a little more careful with her words from now on, just in case. “No,” Nadia explained. “This is just step two of her plan. What she’s doing right now is building a bridge for Him. What she’s building the bridge out of is pain itself.”

“You mean all these people in this hospital—including Uncle Gary—they’re suffering because Elizabeth can use that?” Verlaine hadn’t known it was possible to feel so angry that her head ached and her hands clenched into fists so tight her fingers hurt. But if Elizabeth had been there at that moment, she swore she’d have been able to swing her fists right into Elizabeth’s face, and no dark magic on Earth could have stopped her. “The pain these sick people feel is like . . . bricks, or stones. What she uses to create.”

“Exactly. Her pain mirrors theirs. Makes it stronger.”

“That’s sick.”

“That’s dark magic.” Nadia shoved the sleeves of her sweater farther up her arms, a restless, anxious move.

Verlaine realized there weren’t going to be enough doctors and nurses to go around in this hospital. Who was going to take care of her dad? Fear cut into her deeper and deeper, a scratch turning into a cut turning into a wound.

Nadia lifted her head, and Verlaine turned to see Mateo coming toward them.

“Hey,” he said, attaching himself to Nadia in his usual remoralike fashion. She cuddled into his embrace, and Verlaine wondered what it would be like to know you could be sheltered. Comforted. Cared about. “Okay, I tried asking around, but nobody would talk to me, so I just eavesdropped. Worked way better. They brought in almost forty new patients today. They’re all in the same condition as Verlaine’s dad—comatose, no explanation. The black junk burned their throats and did something to their lungs, but that’s nothing people shouldn’t be able to heal from. None of the doctors understand why the patients don’t wake up again.”

Nadia nodded. “Have they been able to analyze the black liquid?”

“They tried,” Mateo said. “Apparently it destroyed the lab equipment. Somebody’s calling the CDC.”

“The what?” Nadia said.

Verlaine knew this; she’d watched Contagion on Netflix. “The Centers for Disease Control. They have hazmat suits and specialists and stuff, but still, they’re not going to figure out what’s really happening here.”

“We know what’s happening here,” Mateo said. “And we know how to stop it.”

At that moment, both he and Nadia got this weird look on their faces: stubborn and unsure, even though they never let go of each other. Apparently a plan was afoot, and once again, she’d been shut out of it. How incredibly not surprising.

At that point Mateo said he had to go back to La Catrina to help his dad, even though there was no way people in town would so much as leave their houses tonight for anyplace but the hospital. That meant it was up to Verlaine to give Nadia a ride home in the land yacht. Darkness had fallen, and though the lot was crowded with haphazardly parked cars, nobody else seemed to be around. Their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud, as did her car when she cranked it.

“Give it a second to warm up,” Verlaine said, speaking of both her ancient car’s motor and the still-cold air blowing through the vents even though she had the heater on. “Hey, is something going on with you and Mateo?”

Nadia huddled farther down in the seat, wrapping her down jacket around her until she seemed to be buried in it. “We don’t agree on how to go after Elizabeth. And we had a fight, which I keep trying to tell myself isn’t the end of the world. Couples fight, right? I guess after Mom and Dad—it’s hard for me to realize that you can move on.”

“You fought about Elizabeth?”

“That and other things.” Nadia looked almost shamefaced, and Verlaine wondered what level of confession was on the way. But the conclusion was only, “Mateo thinks I don’t love him as much as he loves me, and I can’t figure out why he’d ever believe that.”

Verlaine had to laugh. “Asa.”

“Huh?”

“I would bet any amount of money that Asa screwed with his head. He’s tried to screw with mine. Yours, too, I bet. Am I right?” Immediately Nadia looked abashed, and Verlaine shook her head. “Demons manipulate people. It’s what they do. Asa says so himself. Sounds like he did a number on you two.”

Was she really the only one of their group who understood him?

Nadia shook her head slowly. “Okay, that is—a pretty strong theory.”

“So ask Mateo about what Asa’s said lately. Bet that clears it up right away.”

“I will. Thanks, Verlaine.”

“Whatever.” Verlaine scrunched down farther in her seat, ready to end the conversation but somehow not yet ready to drive.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No. Yeah. Kinda. Not mad at you, just—” Verlaine sighed. “It’s hard being on the outside all the time.”