A Touch Mortal (15 page)

T
he windows and doors were locked, the shades drawn long before the sun had set. That had been hours ago. Eden curled her whole body into the armchair, her legs numb beneath her.

Every minute or so, Adam stood and walked to the window, twisting his fingers between the blinds, staring out into the blackness. Jarrod hadn’t said much at all. None of them had.

Eden hadn’t unclenched her fists, whispers of James caught in her palms. Smears dulled her cheeks. She shifted in the chair, dimly aware of the ashes grinding into her clothes.

“What happened to him?” Libby sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, her shoulder almost brushing Jarrod’s leg. Eden jumped at her voice, suddenly there and blasphemous in what had been silence.

“We can’t die,” Jarrod said, almost to himself.

Adam’s breath condensed on the glass through the crack his fingers spread in the blinds. He withdrew from the window and wandered back to his spot near Eden’s chair.

Adam brushed aside his long brown bangs. “Do you have any ideas, anything?” His eyes burned into her, fear laced with resolve. Her mind went to the Fallen. Could an angel kill a Sider? If it had been only Adam and Jarrod, she might have told them everything, but even from across the room she felt Libby’s eyes on her.

Reaching into her lap, Adam uncurled her hands, taking them in his. She didn’t know why she let him. Her fingers actually creaked, stiff and sore from the relentless clenching.

Jarrod spoke up. “Eden, we need to be careful until we can figure out what’s going on, what happened. Just in case.” She shook her head, already knowing what was about to come, but he didn’t stop. “That means no more Milton’s. No more gathering Touch.” He paused. “We should stay low key.”

Eden stood, dropping her hands.

“Fuck you.”

“Eden…” Adam started.

“First it was you with your little protective thing.” She turned to concentrate her rage on Jarrod. “Now you’re using James’s death to get your way? That’s fucking
sick, Jarrod.” She saw a flicker cross his face, words he’d thought better of and swallowed.

She stood before he could change his mind, closing the door behind her once she was in her room. She climbed into her bed without turning on the light. A moment later the door opened again.

“I brought your phone,” Adam said, closing the door behind him and casting them into darkness.

She sighed, reaching out. Instead, he fumbled in the low light, setting her phone down on the nightstand, sinking into her bedspread as he sat.

“We’re not against you, you know.”

“No?” she challenged, crossing her arms. “Apparently you know what’s best for me.”

“Eden,” he said gently. “I just want you safe.”

Under the blanket, she moved her legs aside, giving him room as she pulled herself up against the headboard.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Eden was silent for a moment, remembering what Az had said on the balcony.
I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.
“You need to stop this, Adam.”

“No,” he said resolutely. “I know you’ve been hurt before.”

“Az has nothing to do with this,” she lied.

His fingers traced a tentative line up her arm, up her shoulder.

“Adam…stop,” she whispered, her muscles tensing. But he didn’t stop, and when he reached her neck she tilted her head, leaning into the cup of his hand, drawing comfort from the warmth.

“Hold your breath. I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. Her breath did stall, frozen in her throat as his lips found hers in the darkness. Her lips tingled as a bit of her Touch passed to him. Then he moved to her cheek, back down her neck, and away from the danger her mouth held.

“Adam. Please.” She tried to say it without emotion, but it didn’t come out as a thwart. It came out as a plea to keep going.

“Try to say it now,” he said, his lips at her ear. “Tell me there’s nothing here.”

Eden shivered, hesitating. His chest pressed against her as he took a breath, released it against her cheek, waiting for any sign to continue.
Turn
, she told herself.
Just turn your head toward him.
She almost did, fighting her desire, before she reached across him. Her fingers fumbled for the lamp.

He pulled back from her in the light; only the darkness was strong enough to kill consequences.

“I’m going to see Kristen,” she said, the words suddenly there.

“Kristen?” Adam stared at her, dumbfounded. Whatever had been between them was lost. “But why?”

“Something’s going on. If there’s any gossip out there, she’ll know it.”

He nodded once, as if trying to compose himself. “Okay. When are we going?”

“There is no ‘we,’” she said. “I’m going tonight, so I’m gonna need you to cover for me. Distract Jarrod. I don’t want him to know I’m leaving. He’ll be dead set against it, and I want to talk to Kristen alone.”

He leaned back, uncertain.

“Kristen’s smart. She’ll know something’s up if I’m coming to her. We need to figure out what’s going on, right?” Eden cocked her head.

“A night of Kristen’s creepy shit. That should be fun for you.” His words were sarcastic, though she heard the worry buried underneath. He stood, heading for the door.

“Adam,” she said, halting him. “This goes in the vault. Not a word. To anyone.” She hesitated. “Not just the Kristen thing.” She didn’t need to say Jarrod’s name.

“Understood.” He closed the door behind him.

Reaching across to her nightstand, she picked up her phone. A dull light illuminated the screen as she scrolled down the contact list. It was after midnight, but the hour worked in her favor. Kristen was practically nocturnal. On the second ring, the call connected.

“Well, if it isn’t the badass raver from the West,” said a voice dripping with honey.
Fuck
, Eden thought. Of
course, Kristen would have caught the headline on her way to the obituaries. “Quite an interesting approach to keeping a low profile.”

“How’s my favorite wicked witch?” Eden replied, a mirror of condescending sweetness.

“Rather confused, actually.” Kristen paused. “Is there something you need? Aside from common sense.”

“A powwow,” Eden said. “Just us. Leave your little shadow at home.”

“Eden, honestly. If you’re going to name call, at least give Sebastian the dignity of something slightly more evil than ‘shadow.’”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit off. I lost one of mine today.”

Kristen sighed, instantly losing interest. “If you’re calling to ask me to keep a lookout for one of your missing flock…”

“Not as in missing, lost as in ‘got himself perished,’” she said, quoting
The Crow
. Kristen would see the movie reference as a gift. “And it wasn’t me. Little more inclined to accept my invitation?”

“When did you want to meet?” Kristen asked.

“Tonight. As soon as possible.”

“I was supposed to go shopping tonight.” The silence spun out as Eden held her breath, waiting. “I don’t see why you can’t meet me there,” Kristen said finally. “Webster
Avenue and East Two Hundred Thirty-third Street. Bronx. Two hours.”

“How will I find you?” Eden asked.

“Wander,” she replied before the call terminated.

“S
he has
got
to be kidding.” Eden shook her head. Spikes of black metal formed a gate before her.

Wedging a boot into the horizontal bar welded halfway up the spears, she threw her leg over and cast a quick glance around as she scaled down the other side. Still alone.

The grounds of the cemetery sprawled farther than Eden could see. Plots, mausoleums, great statues of angels reaching for the heavens alongside those fallen in mourning. For a moment, a vision of Az and Gabe came to mind, carving a hollow ache before she could banish it. She concentrated on finding Kristen.

Eden considered her options. Kristen called her “raver from the West” on the phone. That made Kristen East by default.

Eden started walking.

The frigid air smelled almost metallic, but underneath
she caught the scent of pressed flowers and clove, more memory than an actual fragrance. The smell of Kristen’s house. She’d know it anywhere.

She jumped at the sudden scrape of metal against stone.
Get it together, Eden. You’re losing it.
She cocked her ear, catching it again, and followed the sound to a mausoleum. The shattered lock dangled by its shackle. A yellow glow seeped from the edge of the partially open door. The carved marble above read wandir.

Four hundred acres and she’d only had to cover a quarter of a mile to find her. Kristen was playing nice tonight, the barb of curiosity hooked tight.

A candle sputtered as she entered the crypt, a plume of smoke wafting in her wake.

“‘And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor…’” Kristen pulled a lighter from her boot, flicked it to life, and relit the candle.

“Poe. How…melodramatic of you,” Eden said. “It’s good to see you, Kristen.”

The dress she wore had been longer at some point, the seam ragged where she’d sheared it off. Threads skittered across the pale skin above Kristen’s knees. It hung several sizes too big on her thin frame, but still managed to look right in all the places it should have been wrong. An antique belt of silver hugged her hips.

“Oh, Eden. Must we do the silly small talk? It’s not
good for you to see me. It means you’re in some deep shit.” At her feet, the black silk that had shrouded the coffin lay crumpled on the cement. “Help me lift the lid,” Kristen commanded.

Eden tucked herself under the lip of the coffin, the wood drilling into her shoulder. “Shopping going well?” she grunted. With an added thrust from Kristen, the lid slammed open against ancient hinges. The fatigued metal cracked, and the lid banged against the floor. Eden cringed, glancing toward the door.

“Quite well, actually,” Kristen said, pushing up the velvet sleeves of her dress. “No one will bother us here. I’ve made sure of it.”

“What do you mean you’ve made sure of it?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised.” Kristen took up the pillar candle, illuminating the contents of the casket. “I know full well you don’t travel without your sad excuse for an entourage.” She turned when Eden stayed silent, studying her. “You
are
alone. How naïve of you.”

“You think so?” Eden asked, leaning against the crumbling mortar of the wall, hoping to look unfazed. “Maybe I’m just one for keeping my word.”

“Look at you! All business and attitude. Well done.” Kristen laughed, the sound echoing wickedly through the small chamber. “May I?” she asked, curtseying dramatically. As she dipped, she lifted the frayed fabric of
her dress, kicking up a leg like a burlesque dancer. She balanced the heel of her black boot on the edge of the coffin’s platform. Above where the leather ended mid-calf, an exposed knee peeked out.

Eden pulled at the neckline of her thermal hoodie, revealing her collarbone. Both girls reached forward, sliding a finger across the other’s bare skin. Their glamours faded.

Eden held her fingers out, marveling at the pale gray-green patches of rot, the skin puckering, holes open to the bone. Maybe the rave had helped. Another few days, though, and her levels would be right back up.

Strips of flesh hung from Kristen’s arm as she pulled it back, the bone underneath still white.

“You’ve been storing,” Eden observed. “Or stealing. Gearing up to torture some Screamers, Kristen?”

She shook her head, tsking. “Don’t judge. It makes your face all twisty. Not a good look for you.”

“Your sick idea of punishment is none of my concern,” Eden said, her voice cold. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything to fear.”

“And aren’t you just a little ball of contradictions tonight?” Kristen shook her head, a wave of dark hair swooping behind her shoulders as her glamour slipped back into place. “You have nothing to fear, yet you’re here. There must be a reason. Ready to spill it, Eden? Or are
we going to babble quips back and forth all night? Were your boys simply not satisfying your need for intelligent conversation?”

“Nothing to fear
from you
,” Eden corrected. “But…” She paused, watching in morbid fascination as Kristen leaned into the coffin, pulling a half dozen rings from the skeleton’s fingers. Trying them on her own, she tossed aside the ones that hadn’t struck her fancy. The castoffs clattered into the shadows. “James,” Eden said.

“The little blond one?” Kristen leaned into the coffin again as if it was a bargain bin. The old bones rattled as she shook the dress free of its previous owner. Her face lit up. “Purple!” she sang triumphantly, handing the dress to Eden. “I was
so
over the black thing this week too! How fortuitous!” She dove again, legs kicking up behind her as she dug deeper. Vaulting back onto the floor, her hands held up the prize, a flapper-style skullcap.
How appropriate
, Eden thought.

Dust dulled the strands swooping out from below the beaded fabric as Kristen adjusted the hat. She held her hand in front of the candle again, admiring her new rings for a moment before stripping one away and tossing it to Eden. Rubies glittered in the air.

Eden caught the jewelry, faintly repulsed as she slipped it over her knuckle. It clanked against the trio of silver bands already there, settling just below the joint of her
middle finger. She held the hand up for Kristen to see.

“Approved,” Kristen said, nodding. “Death looks good on you.”

“Yeah,” Eden mumbled, the memory of James’s scattering ashes a fresh wound, slicing through the weak scab the day had formed. “Enough dress up,” she said, tucking her hand into her pocket. “We have business to attend to.”

“About the boy? You’re just angry you didn’t get to use your voodoo breath on him.”

Eden clenched her jaw. She tossed the dress over her shoulder, freeing her hands.

Kristen only smiled. “Quell the rage, lovey. Tell me what happened to James.”

Eden gave her an abridged version of how they’d found him. “Last I heard, I was the only one killing Siders. That is, unless you have news you conveniently forgot to pass along?” she finished.

“Eden,” Kristen chided, sounding hurt. “Do you know how rare it is for me to find someone I consider an equal? In another life we might have been at the mall together, glaring at those bitches who take up all the tables in the food court and never fucking eat. As it is, you seem to have enough on your plate.”

“You know something,” Eden accused.

“There’ve been rumblings lately with your name in them. Not the territories. I think everyone’s pretty well
settled for now. But you have an enemy.” Kristen stared at her for a long moment.

“The Fallen?” Eden asked, losing patience. She yanked the dress from where it hung over her shoulder, balling the material.

Finally Kristen spoke, her voice solemn. “‘And devils also came out of many, crying out—’”

“Don’t have time for this, Kristen,” Eden interrupted, giving away her frustration. “Was it the Fallen or not?” Tapping a finger against her cheek, Kristen waited for Eden’s response over the wood she leaned her elbows on. “Who? Tennyson? Yeats? I have no clue.”

Kristen twirled a lock of brown around her finger, her gems dancing in the candlelight. “Actually, it’s from the Bible.”

“Who’s the enemy, Kristen?”

“Of course it’s the Fallen. Who else would it be?” She reached into her boot and slid out a clove cigarette as she got to her feet. Sauntering across the room, she lit it on the candle flame before returning to Eden. She slid down the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You and I have our alliance. We share information, help each other when necessary. Such things aren’t just arranged between Siders,” she said slowly. “You know how close I am to Gabriel. Rumor is, Madeline has chosen
not
to follow my shining example after all. And Madeline was tiring of lost
numbers due to your…gift. Perhaps she finally grew frustrated enough to tattle on you.”

Eden’s eyes widened. “Madeline told the Fallen where to find me.” Kristen nodded. “You never told me the Fallen can kill Siders.”

Kristen shrugged, but Eden caught the uneasiness in her eyes. “It’s news to me if they can. Have you spoken to
him
about what’s going on?” she asked, not needing to say the name.

Eden winced. “Why would I?”

“I saw him,” Kristen said carefully, gauging Eden’s reaction. “This would be a few weeks ago. Shall I continue?” Eden nodded, her head feeling full and slow. Even a passing mention of Az and her whole world seemed to shift off its axis. “At first I thought he was one of the living, huddled down in a doorway against the cold the way he was. I was going to give him Touch. But then he lifted his head and I saw those eyes.” Kristen took a hit, exhaling a cloud.

“Go on,” Eden whispered.

“He looks like shit, Eden. I didn’t even recognize him. He’s going through some sort of Goth phase. All those beautiful curls straightened and dyed black.” She paused, ashing into a silver vase that might once have held flowers.

Eden couldn’t picture this new version of him, so far
from the soft brown curls and clear blue eyes. The Az she had known.

“And how’s Gabe?” Eden tried to keep her voice neutral, but it came out strained, cracking.

“He’s checking in on you,” Kristen said. “They both are.”

Eden looked up in surprise. “You’re wrong,” she said.

Kristen nodded slowly, drawing out the details in that excruciating way she had of speaking, her flair for the dramatic coloring her speech. “I could be. But I was standing there, looking into those crystal blues of his, and there was a sudden urge to update Az on the latest gossip. And most of what popped into my head was Eden-centric. Not exactly my favorite topic. You can imagine my shock.” She snubbed out what was left of the clove, the sweet smoke drifting, lingering. “Listen, I understand your burning hatred of all things angelic, but I’m not who you should have come to. You know that.”

Kristen snatched the purple atrocity from Eden as she passed, heading for the exit.

“Can I count on our alliance?” Eden asked, following her out through the door. “If it’s needed, of course.”

Kristen spun on her with a snort of disbelief. “Against the Fallen? Not a chance. Our agreement concerned only Sider issues. You understand.”

Before them, the path forked. “If you hear anything…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Kristen said. “Eden, were I you, I’d make sure my crew was ready. Blame Madeline, blame me if need be, but have them store Touch. They’ll need it to heal. Most likely, they’ll need it to help
you
heal, because if Downstairs gets a hold of you…” Kristen trailed off, staring up into the cloudless sky, the stars, as if hoping to catch sight of something beyond them. “If the Fallen are sniffing around, this is bound to be more than a passing storm.”