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Then I stopped getting invited. My friends stopped calling.” Her last words were almost inaudible before she rallied. “They were forgetting about me, because I was losing my path, weren’t they?”
    Gabriel seemed to ignore her distress. “Do you remember seeing any Siders?”
    Jarrod shot a glance her way to catch her shaking her head. “No,” he answered for her. Gabe’s agitation worsened, the angel’s irises darkening to rust-colored rings. “Sullivan became a Sider because Vaughn’s group passed her too much Touch and her path got eroded. I think you were all exposed that way.” His voice lowered to a mumble of concentration. “A month of parties, a month for Jarrod. And then death. But Sullivan was with Vaughn much longer.”
    “No!” Sullivan piped up, and then stepped back against Jarrod. “I mean, I was with him for six months, but he kept me alive. He kept me from killing myself.”
    Gabe blinked quickly. “The Siders started in New York, but someone was spreading enough Touch in New Jersey that Eden was exposed to it a significant amount.” He stepped back toward the door like an animal afraid to be caged. No one made an attempt to stop him. He sucked in hard, clenching his hands. “Question Madeline, Kristen, Vaughn . . . Erin if you can find her. If you can trace it back—”
    “No.” Jarrod cut in before Gabe could go on. He didn’t bother to hide his anger. “We’re staying here. Inside. We can’t go wandering around with your kind out there. Look at Eden,” he said, tipping his chin toward where she leaned against the wall, swaying a bit.
    “I can’t,” Gabe whispered. “Jarrod, please. If you can find out how the Siders started, maybe I can find a way to fix things.”
    Jarrod tensed when Gabriel dug into a pocket, but rather than a weapon, the angel pulled out a folded piece of paper. “The Bound are coming. Some are already here, searching for Siders, trying to figure out how to kill them. When they ask me where you are . . .” Jarrod heard the heartbreak in Gabriel’s voice. “Please don’t be here.”
    “Can’t they just materialize anywhere we go?” Jarrod said.
    “Not if they don’t know where that is. They won’t be able to appear inside this apartment because they haven’t been in here, but your security door isn’t exactly going to hold them out.” As he palmed the paper to Jarrod, Gabe pulled him close. “I’ve already been inside,” he whispered in his ear, too low for the girls to hear. “Get out. Now.”
    Then, as if to prove his point, Gabriel was gone. Jarrod still held the note. A moment passed in silence before Sullivan engaged the useless dead bolt.
    “What’d he say, Jarrod?” Eden said. Her voice cracked, weak, as she spoke.
    Jarrod slid the note through his fingers. The creases were damp and deep, as if Gabe had been worrying it in his pocket for hours. Slowly, he unfolded it.
    In nearly illegible scrawl, was a single sentence.
    Do not leave Eden alone with me.

CHAPTER 3

    O nce, Eden had asked Az what Upstairs was like. He’d told her it was a figment of the imagination, filled in with the fantastical thoughts of those mortals whose paths led Upstairs. The Bound themselves didn’t dream, incapable of contributing to the beauty around them.
    You’re not one of them, Az reminded himself. Still, despite his efforts, everything around him—the walls, the bed, the locked door—was white as blank canvas.
    Not for long.
    Az pushed all his energy into remembering the exact shade of Eden’s eyes, deep cerulean like the undercurl of waves. Imagined that same color washing across the pillowcases, dripping onto the white tiled floor, puddling.
    You can do this .
    “Blue,” he whispered. “Turn blue.” Gripping the sheets in his fists, he prayed for even a single thread to change. If he could imagine the color into reality, he could create a key, envision a portal, create an escape. He could find a way back to her. So far, his efforts had