“Max is going through my overnight bag when I get back to Wink Hotel. My favorite part about this is that he doesn't stop when I walk in the room."Hey," he says. He pulls out my black Hugo Boss dress hirt, then holds it up to his nose and sniffs loudly."Dude. Stop." I pull the shirt from his hands and toss it on the bed."I just love your scent," he says in a chick voice."You and everyone else, my friend.”

“I spin around and see Max running toward me in a gray Armani shirt. "Dante. Oh, Dante. Seal me! Seal me so hard!" He grabs my hips and pumps his toward mine. "Oh, Dante! You're so hot when you seal souls!"I shove my idiot-of-a-best-friend off me and laugh.”

“Max dances around in a circle with one leg pulled up, and people move away as if he's mentally unstable. He and I are the only collectors that like to remain visible to the living. The other four roll incognito. Max finishes his dance and brushes his shoulders off. "What the hell was that?" I ask."My new move," he says matter-of-factly.My fellow collector is six years older than me but acts like he's thirteen. We met a couple of years ago after he kicked the bucket and came onboard. He talks so fast, I have trouble understanding him sometimes. I like to think he was the World's Best Car Salesman before he croaked.”

“All the way down the stairs and into the kitchen, Charlie yaps away. I nod and smile and smile and nod, and when she turns away, I form a gun with my hand, place it to my temple, and pull the trigger.”

“I nod and smile and smile and nod, and when she turns away, I form a gun with my hand, place it to my temple, and pull the trigger. This girl is starved for attention. It's amazing to me when people are totally unaware of how bad they are at socializing.”

“Speak up, Charlie,” I say. “If you have something to say, then say it out loud.”

“I am still frozen when he reaches out and brushes a finger over the three lines etched into the surface of my ring, then twists one of his own rings to reveal a cleaner but identical set of lines. The Archive’s insignia. When I don’t react—because no fluid lie came to me and now it’s too late—he closes the gap between us, close enough that I can almost hear the bass again, radiating off his skin. His thumb hooks under the cord around my throat and guides my key out from under my shirt. It glints in the twilight. Then he fetches the key from around his own neck. “There,” he says cheerfully. “Now we’re on the same page.”