A Touch Menacing (19 page)

H
unkered down inside Zach’s tiny efficiency apartment, Eden couldn’t focus. She and Sullivan had pulled a futon in front of the door. The only other furniture in the place—a broken dresser with a small television balanced precariously on top—Jarrod had moved in front of the window.

They went through the apartment, meticulously searching for anything that would lead them to Erin. Torn and dog-eared paperbacks were piled up in a corner waist high. Clothes hung haphazardly in a half-open closet. While Eden and Jarrod had brainstormed about how the Siders originated, Sullivan stayed in the kitchen going through the few papers Zach had lying around, looking for a number for Erin, an address, anything. Eden knew she wouldn’t find it. What reason would Zach have to write it down?

Eden sat cross-legged on the futon, adding names to the pad of paper on the cushion beside her. They
had
to figure out where the Siders came from. “Madeline won’t talk to us until tomorrow night, Vaughn’s pretty much out of the question, and Kristen apparently wants to kill us.” She tapped the pen against her cheek. “We have no way to get a hold of Erin.”

“Someone has to know
something
!” Jarrod said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eden gave him a sympathetic look. In truth, she was worried about him. His focus clung to her and Sullivan like they’d disappear any second, tracked them, kept them locked in a haunted gaze she’d never seen from him before. Even now, he leaned back just enough to see Sullivan, though they both could hear her rummaging. “Seriously, Eden. It wasn’t magic. The four of them didn’t just pop out of thin air.”

“Wait.” She balanced her elbow on her knee, leaning forward on her palm. “Not four,” she said. “Five. When I first became a Sider, Kristen told me there were five originals. When they started to find more Siders, they split into the territories. Madeline’s in Queens, Kristen got the Bronx, Erin was Manhattan, Vaughn had Staten Island,” she said, pointing to each name. She drew a quick map, filling in the names. She tapped the hole between Staten Island and the others. “Why does no one ever talk about Brooklyn?”

“You’re right,” he said slowly.

She leaned back, puzzled. It couldn’t be that easy. Could it? “Someone’s gotta be there. Otherwise they wouldn’t have given me Erin’s territory. Plus, if it was empty, someone should have claimed it by now, right?”

“Have Kristen or Madeline
ever
mentioned who’s in Brooklyn?” he asked. She shook her head as he closed the distance between them. “Sullivan!” he called out.

She came around the corner from the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“Vaughn.” Sullivan startled at the name, and Jarrod laid his hands on her shoulders. He brushed back her long black hair, kissing her gently on the forehead. “When you were with him, did he ever mention any Siders from Brooklyn?”

An ache bloomed inside of Eden, but she didn’t bother to look for ashes on her palms. This pain had nothing to do with lack of Touch.
At least not that kind,
she thought. Watching the tenderness between Jarrod and Sullivan, she could almost feel the sensation of Az’s fingertips on her skin, his lips soft on her collarbones.
I’ll get him back,
she promised herself.
I will. But I can’t think about him.

She couldn’t lose herself down that spiral. Not now. “Sullivan,” she said. “We need you to remember this.”

Rather than answering immediately, Sullivan took a second to think it over. She’d been out of her mind on Touch for most of the time she’d been with Vaughn. “Well,
I’m
from Brooklyn,” she started slowly. “But I don’t think he ever mentioned it.”

Jarrod’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “How long did you live there?” he asked, a desperate tone in his voice that Eden didn’t understand. “Sullivan, did you live there when you were fourteen?”

Her face wrinkled in confusion. “Yeah, until about a year and a half ago.”

Jarrod whipped around to Eden. “Then Vaughn’s from Brooklyn. That’s where he was when he went Sider. When I fought him in the alley, he was saying Sullivan was his girl, that she’d been his girl since they were both fourteen.”

“What?” Sullivan said. “No, I just met him, like, six months ago.”

Jarrod softened. He took her hand. “He said you were with him for three years, Sullivan,” he said. She backed away, shaking her head. Jarrod stayed with her, step for step. “He’d stayed away from you for over a year, and then you came into a club where he was selling Touch. You’d forgotten him, because he turned Sider and you were still a mortal.”

“That’s not true,” she said, the last word lilting up at the end in her uncertainty. She looked at Eden as if she’d have the answers. “I would remember him.” Sullivan’s face clouded over. “I wouldn’t have stayed with him for three years. He was
mean
. He did things . . . things I can’t even . . .”

Jarrod took her into his arms and met Eden’s eyes over her shoulder. “Do you think it started with Vaughn?” he asked.

“Stop,” Eden said. She concentrated, trying to remember her first week with Kristen. There’d been so much information, so much to learn. Still, something wasn’t right. “Sullivan, how long were you with him?”

“We dated, like, three months? But I met him at the beginning of summer, so I’ve known him around six.”

“Six months,” Eden whispered, jotting down the information in the notebook. “And a year before that when he said he left you alone . . .” She trailed off.
It doesn’t match up,
she realized. “When I stayed with Kristen, she said the five of them split into territories two years ago. That would be before he was a Sider!” Eden crossed Vaughn’s name off the list and looked up at Jarrod. “He moved to Staten Island because Sullivan moved there. Which means Vaughn wasn’t the original territory leader. He wasn’t even a Sider when the others decided on boroughs.”

“Which means there are two Siders we have to find,” Sullivan said. “Whoever’s in charge in Brooklyn and whoever
was
in charge before Vaughn got to Staten Island.”

Why didn’t anyone tell me?
Eden thought. Kristen and Madeline had played it off like Vaughn had been there from the start.
What are they hiding?

CHAPTER 11

S
quinting Jarrod rubbed the strained muscles in his neck. He’d spent all night in the same position, on watch, propped up against the wall. Sullivan had passed out on the futon, and Eden had curled up in a pile of blankets on the floor. Now, Jarrod blinked slowly. The girls weren’t there.

Staggering to his feet, he grabbed for the blankets as if they’d hold some clue.
They’re gone.
He laced his hands over his head.
You fell asleep and they’re gone.
“No. Fuck, please,” he whispered.

A laugh sounded from the kitchen, smothered instantly.

“Hello?” he yelled.

“In here!” Sullivan’s voice rang out, the most glorious thing he’d ever heard. He stumbled forward in disbelief. She sat on the kitchen floor, leaning back against the cabinets with an open box of Cap’n Crunch.

Eden tossed a handful of cereal into her mouth. “Sleep good?”

When he didn’t answer, Sullivan looked up. “Jarrod?” The smile dropped away. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were gone. I thought you were both . . .” He leaned against the wall and slid down it.

“No!” Sullivan said. “We just didn’t want to wake you up. You were out cold.”

“Snoring and everything,” Eden added, like it was a joke. Like he was supposed to laugh when he’d fallen asleep and his mistake could have cost both Eden and Sullivan their lives.

“How long was I out?” Vague memories surfaced of the sun coming up, the light weak behind the dresser he’d pushed in front the window. Dawn was the last thing he could remember.

“I woke up around ten and you’d already crashed.” Eden chewed and then swallowed her cereal. “It’s four now,” she said.

“
Six
hours?”

“You needed the sleep,” she insisted.

Instead of arguing, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Okay. What are we doing? What did you guys come up with?”

Eden answered. “If we want to talk to Madeline, Kristen, and Erin, at least we know where they’re all going to be tonight.”

He glanced up to find her dead serious. “We are not going to that ball, Eden,” he said instantly.

Both girls immediately responded.

“Jarrod, just listen to her—”

“Zach said everyone would be there! Maybe this Sider from Brooklyn will be, too!”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said. “Kristen wants to kill you, not to mention what Vaughn would to do to us. Madeline’s not gonna have your back if you make her choose in front of them. You know that, right?”

Eden huffed and set the cereal aside. When she spoke, her voice grated on him, calm enough to be condescending. “We
are
going to Kristen’s tonight. I’m not sitting here waiting for the Bound or the Fallen to find us. I’m not waiting for them to take
us
like they did Zach.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” he yelled at her as he stood.

“
Your
fault?” Confusion furrowed Eden’s forehead, the defiant attitude gone from her as quick as it’d come. “Of course it wasn’t,” she said softly.

How could I just leave him?
Even as he thought it, Jarrod knew there’d been no other choice. Zach would understand; he would have done the same for Erin.

“Jarrod?” Eden said.

His attention flicked between the two of them. Minutes had separated them from capture and escape. Minutes and demons. He had a vision—Sullivan’s screams as the Bound snatched her from his arms. Eden being dragged across the back of a booth and out the window. Both of them gone. Nothing he could do. A hard knot of terror and rage tightened in his stomach.

Jarrod spun suddenly toward the wall and slammed it with a punch. The drywall caved around his knuckles. He grimaced, cupping his fist to his chest. For almost a full minute, he stood there, dizzy with pain, endorphins, and embarrassment.

“What the hell was that about?” Sullivan said, standing up and reaching to check his hand.

Everything inside him built. He couldn’t lose it in front of the girls any worse than he already had. He staggered toward the bathroom, the only private place in the apartment. “Sorry,” he called out over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Sullivan followed him and wedged her foot in the door as he tried to close it. “Would you wait a second?” she said. “Talk to me!”

She stood, stubborn and unmoving, until he finally moved aside. He was acting like a complete ass, but he didn’t know what else to do, how to make things better. He leaned, his hands braced on the wall above his head as she closed the door and slid past him. Already his knuckles were blue and bruising. Now, his body would be wasting Touch he could be passing to Eden on healing himself.

Sullivan sat on the edge of the tub. “Come here,” she said, waving him down.

Adrenaline fading, he sunk to the floor in front of her and rested his forehead on her knees. His arms curled around her legs.

A drop of sweat ran down his nose and splashed on the tan tile. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said.

“You didn’t.” Her tentative fingertips touched his neck, traced slowly from his hairline. He kept his head down, lost in the sensation of her touch, his lungs still heaving. “Your hand okay?” she asked softly as he rose onto his knees.

He nodded, his eyes burning and blurry. “I keep thinking about how it was almost us. If they got—” His voice cracked, and he leaned into the space where her neck and shoulder met. He kissed her there, brought his uninjured hand up and buried it in her hair. He prayed she wouldn’t pull away. He’d break. Lose it.
If they got you, I couldn’t handle it.

Everything inside him felt on fire, searing.
What if they come and I can’t stop them?
“Please. I just . . . I need . . .”

His mouth crested over her jaw. He cupped the back of her head, his lips rough on her skin. His teeth grazed her earlobe, and the fingers that had been so gentle on his neck tightened.

They’re going to find us.
His hands clasped her waist, the bare skin where her shirt lifted.
I can’t let them.
His palm slid across the fragile bones of her spine. Breakable.
I don’t want her to die.

“Jarrod?”

A sound escaped him as his name left her, something wild and animalistic. The part of him that clung to control recoiled. He trembled, unable to catch his breath, one hand keeping her from falling into the tub.

“Hey,” she whispered, concern in her voice. She touched the side of his jaw gently. “Stop.”

He stared into her uncertain eyes. His face burned as he pulled away. “I’m sorry, I just can’t . . .”

“What can I do to help?” she asked before she slid off the tub to join him on the floor, moving to sit beside him. Her chin settled onto his shoulder. “Tell me what you need.”

This,
he thought suddenly.
I need this. I need you.
Frustrated, he dropped his forehead against hers. Why couldn’t he just say it? “I just want all of us to come out of this okay,” he finally got out.