A Touch Menacing

by Leah Clifford

  He’ll consume you.

  Let him, she thought as his mouth, hungry, met her skin.

  “Claim me,” he murmured, “and I will tell you how to get the revenge you seek.”

  She fought to quell the hate he kindled inside her, seemed to grow stronger from. Why are you fighting him? This is what you want. The fires he fed crackled, raged. Don’t listen, her mind screamed, but her heart drowned it out, thudding hard and fast in a pounding static hiss.

  “Can you picture it? Cleaving the Bound apart.” He went on. “Their blood on your hands. How badly do you ache for vengeance? Tell me.” His teeth grazed her neck before the bite softened to a kiss, his lips warm, like the blood of the Bound would be. Something inside her sighed. “Carve out their hearts,” he said, “with the knife I sharpened for you.” At her harsh intake, he bent to pick up the blade. “It’s special, this knife. It will kill them when nothing else will,” he said, pressing it into her hand. His breath hit her cheek, hot. “It’s my gift to you.”

  At what cost, she thought. And did she care? Images played in her mind, a slide show of murder, maroon streaming from corpses at her feet.

  “All I ask is your loyalty. All I ask . . .” He curled his hand tight, pressing his fist against the wall. “Twice you’ve denied me, Kristen. Still, I am yours. Your secret, your pleasure, your darkest dream. Give yourself to me, and I will give you everything.” She stared up into his eyes, his irises mottled with uneven rings of green. Hope, she thought, the color a mixture of blue for happy and yellow for fear.

  “I belong to no one,” she said, her chest heaving, need searing her insides. She latched an arm around his neck. Her mouth opened to form single-word excuses. No. Wrong. Run.

  “But I want,” she said slowly, not quite believing what she ached for. “I want their blood.” The green flecks had gone from his eyes. They’d darkened with desire, an oily black that twisted her stomach, but not her heart. “And I want you at my side when I get it,” Kristen said.

  A sound escaped him, between a sign and a moan. Ice flashed through her, so cold it burned, but she didn’t care. She drew Luke closer. They’ll suffer for what they’ve done, she promised herself.

  On the stove, the kettle started to scream.

  CHAPTER 22

  “And I said, she’s not available.” Az’s voice roused Eden from a fitful sleep. She stretched on the threadbare sheets of the cheap hotel they’d found. Daylight brightened the window, the thick curtains open and tied back. Az was silhouetted in the sunshine, bracing himself as he leaned forward against the heat register. His wings were hidden again under a thick sweatshirt. Eden fought to focus and made out a phone pressed against his ear. “You have my word, she’s alive. She just . . . she can’t come to the phone.”

  She struggled to prop herself against the headboard. “I’m up,” she croaked.

  Az spun toward her. “You’re at this number?” he said into the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

  “Who—” She coughed hard before she could get out the rest. He crossed the room in two steps and crawled into bed with her. He passed her a glass of water from the nightstand. “How long have I been out?” she managed after draining it. She leaned into the crook of his arm, just enough to stare up at him.

  “A few hours. It’s a little after nine.” His eyes drank her in as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just . . . When they let me go, I thought it was a trick. I don’t know what I would have done if . . .” He pulled her into a loose hug as if she were delicate, breakable. “I thought you were already gone.”

  “You were gone. And I couldn’t handle it,” she said. Az being there didn’t seem real. Not even with her arms around him, not with his heart beating against her shoulder. “You asshole,” she whispered as she tightened her grip on him. Her voice came out thick. “I don’t care if you did it to save me. I don’t care. If you ever leave me like that again, I will drag your ass back from Upstairs and kick it myself.”

  His laugh shook them both. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, too,” he said.

  “How did you get back?” She had so many questions she hadn’t thought to ask him last night.

  She felt his hesitation, but he didn’t slip into their familiar patterns, the lies and half-truths of protection. Az started talking.

  “Gabe, he . . .” Az played with her bracelet, not looking at her. “Gabe promised to kill you, Eden, because if he has to do it, none of the other Bound can. Michael knows Gabe’s resisting. The rest of the Bound might be coming after me because I stopped him. I promised Michael that if he let me out, if he let me go, I would get Gabriel to go back Upstairs. For good. No one else knows.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered, horrified.

  Az looked pained. “While you were sleeping, Gabe called me. He’s got Erin with him. She was hurt trying to get away at Kristen’s.” The words came out slow, as if he were gauging how much she could take. Last night faded in and out of clarity, but she was pretty sure it was all there.

  “Kristen?”

  “Is with Luke,” he said softly, taking her hand. “But . . . ”

  She steeled herself, tucking her head against his shoulder again. His scent, cold, snowy crispness, drifted over her. She wanted it to settle her much more than it did. “Tell me.”

  “Gabe said he saw . . . He said Madeline didn’t make it.”

  She shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. Madeline was ash. Gone. “Oh God.”

  “That was Jackson on the phone. Her Second,” Az said, continuing when she nodded. “All he knows is that Madeline never came home. He’s called you seven times. He’s a wreck, Eden. He keeps saying he has to talk to you. I tried to get him to tell me why, but he wouldn’t have it.” He shrugged. “I even offered to give the phone to Jarrod. He said only you.”

  She held her hand out, and Az passed her the phone. “Where is Jarrod?” she asked, suddenly looking around the hotel room. Sullivan was missing, too. The comforter was spread on the floor where they’d slept, an abandoned pillow a foot away.

  “Down the hall. Sullivan said she needed air, but Jarrod wasn’t looking good so I think she was trying to figure out what’s up with him.”

  Biting her lip against the ache in her bones, Eden tried to straighten while she pulled up Jackson’s number on her phone. Az looped an arm around her. She sighed against his chest as she hit Send.

  When Jackson answered, she realized just what Az had meant by him sounding wrecked. His voice shook. “If this is Eden, say so. I’m not talking to anyone but her.”

  “It’s me.” She’d seen Jackson only once, briefly; he’d been with Madeline the night Jarrod had stayed out with Sullivan and they’d thought he’d been taken. She barely remembered what he looked like, but his agony and fear were clear.

  “Madeline made me stay home last night with some of our Siders. They found out about her. I don’t know how.”

  Eden frowned. “Found out about who? Madeline?”

  “No!” Jackson shouted loud enough that she had to pull the phone from her ear. “The girl. She’s one of us! They’re making her do it, spreading the word to any Sider they can get hold of. She’s changed a dozen of them already. I can hear her down there begging for help,” he said, his voice falling to a desperate mutter.

  “She’s a Sider? One like me? Who made her, Jackson, the Fallen or the Bound?”

  “Neither,” he answered. Through Jackson’s frantic sounds, she could hear pandemonium in the background. Sobs and slams and then Jackson yelling unintelligible words. She plugged one ear and pressed the phone tighter against the other.

  “What’s going on?” Az asked. She shook her head, unsure even what to tell him. A sharp bang made her wince. There was a shuffle.

  “Are you there? Hello?” Jackson called.

  “What’s going on?” Eden demanded. She eased away from Az and lowered her feet to the carpet. Black flashes nicked at the edge of her vision. Az touched her shoulder as she swayed slightl
y, but she caught his hand instead and used it for leverage to stand. “Jackson, tell me. Now.”

  “On the news,” he blurted. “They found a body. It was Mad, I’m sure of it.”

  He wasn’t making sense. “But there wouldn’t be a body, just ashes,” Eden said. She thought of Vaughn, burned beyond recognition before she’d given him a merciful end. “Do you think she was just too hurt to run?”

  Az squeezed her shoulder. “Gabe saw her,” he said in a low voice. “Dead. A body.”

  “That’s impossible,” Eden said. “Why do you think it was her, Jackson?” she said into the phone.

  “I told her not to go. We could have run. We could have . . .”

  She made a scribbling motion to Az. He nodded and snapped a pen and a pad of paper up from the nightstand, tossing it to her. She bent her knee, paper and pen poised. “Can you give me your” —a tremble coursed through Eden— “your address, Jackson.” She started again. Her vision blurred as pain shot through her. “Az, help.”

  His arm instantly came around her shoulder. “You’re okay,” he said as he eased her onto the bed.

  She heard Jackson’s sharp gasp. “Az? He’s one of them!”

  “No! He’s on our side!” she argued, but Jackson drowned her out with his angry screams. “It’s not what you—”

  The background noise went suddenly silent as he hung up.

  “Fuck.” She dropped the pen, cradling her stomach. Az rubbed her back until she sat up and wiped the corners of her eyes. Despite the pain, there were no ashes. The discomfort ebbed, but didn’t quite leave her. “There’s another death breather. From the sound of it, she’s taking out too many Siders. She’s going to be overloaded on Touch soon. Do you know where Madeline lives?” Lived, she corrected mentally, but couldn’t bring herself to say. Az’s face fell as if she had. He nodded. “We need to go there. I can take the girl’s extra Touch. Sullivan, too.”

  He leaned and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re sure you can make it?”

  “I have to make it.” She hung her hands around his neck. His closeness felt like a gift. “When I asked Jackson if it was the Fallen or Bound who made the Sider, he said neither.” She pulled away enough to gauge his reaction.

  He raised a cautious eyebrow. “What’s that mean?”

  “I have no idea.” The wording of it unnerved her, though.

  “Then let’s go. If there’s a new kind of Sider, Gabe will want to know about it. Maybe it can help him.”

  “Why’s he so set on figuring out how we started?” she asked. It seemed like a colossal waste of time. Dangerous for no purpose. Eden leaned down and shoved her shoes on, fumbling to tie the laces. She realized she couldn’t remember taking them off last night.

  Az stared down at his hands, tangled up in his lap. “Finding out how it started means there’s a chance he can figure out how to undo it.” He sighed hard. “So says Gabe, anyway.”

  She let the idea spin around in her brain. “But we’re dead,” she said. “What’s to undo?”

  “Well, he has a theory,” he said, sounding uncomfortable. “That without your paths, you can’t die. That the Siders are paused.”

  They both looked up as the door opened, and Sullivan and Jarrod came through. Sullivan slid the chain into place. “Hey!” she said cheerfully. “You’re awake!”

  Eden smiled back. When she looked at Jarrod, though, he seemed sullen.

  “Eden finally talked to Jackson,” Az said as he helped her up. She had to lean on him more than she liked. “Something’s going on with him. If you guys are ready, we can explain on the way over there.”

  “Sounds good,” Sullivan said, her voice chipper. Beside her, Jarrod said nothing until she squeezed his hand.

  He glanced up. “Ready when you are.”

  They stood for a moment, Eden and Az on one side of the room, Jarrod and Sullivan on the other. It was only when Sullivan turned, slid the chain, and opened the door again that Jarrod looked at Eden. Gone was the determination in him she’d always taken for granted. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  CHAPTER 22

  “And I said, she’s not available.” Az’s voice roused Eden from a fitful sleep. She stretched on the threadbare sheets of the cheap hotel they’d found. Daylight brightened the window, the thick curtains open and tied back. Az was silhouetted in the sunshine, bracing himself as he leaned forward against the heat register. His wings were hidden again under a thick sweatshirt. Eden fought to focus and made out a phone pressed against his ear. “You have my word, she’s alive. She just . . . she can’t come to the phone.”

  She struggled to prop herself against the headboard. “I’m up,” she croaked.

  Az spun toward her. “You’re at this number?” he said into the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

  “Who—” She coughed hard before she could get out the rest. He crossed the room in two steps and crawled into bed with her. He passed her a glass of water from the nightstand. “How long have I been out?” she managed after draining it. She leaned into the crook of his arm, just enough to stare up at him.

  “A few hours. It’s a little after nine.” His eyes drank her in as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just . . . When they let me go, I thought it was a trick. I don’t know what I would have done if . . .” He pulled her into a loose hug as if she were delicate, breakable. “I thought you were already gone.”

  “You were gone. And I couldn’t handle it,” she said. Az being there didn’t seem real. Not even with her arms around him, not with his heart beating against her shoulder. “You asshole,” she whispered as she tightened her grip on him. Her voice came out thick. “I don’t care if you did it to save me. I don’t care. If you ever leave me like that again, I will drag your ass back from Upstairs and kick it myself.”

  His laugh shook them both. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, too,” he said.

  “How did you get back?” She had so many questions she hadn’t thought to ask him last night.

  She felt his hesitation, but he didn’t slip into their familiar patterns, the lies and half-truths of protection. Az started talking.

  “Gabe, he . . .” Az played with her bracelet, not looking at her. “Gabe promised to kill you, Eden, because if he has to do it, none of the other Bound can. Michael knows Gabe’s resisting. The rest of the Bound might be coming after me because I stopped him. I promised Michael that if he let me out, if he let me go, I would get Gabriel to go back Upstairs. For good. No one else knows.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered, horrified.

  Az looked pained. “While you were sleeping, Gabe called me. He’s got Erin with him. She was hurt trying to get away at Kristen’s.” The words came out slow, as if he were gauging how much she could take. Last night faded in and out of clarity, but she was pretty sure it was all there.

  “Kristen?”

  “Is with Luke,” he said softly, taking her hand. “But . . . ”

  She steeled herself, tucking her head against his shoulder again. His scent, cold, snowy crispness, drifted over her. She wanted it to settle her much more than it did. “Tell me.”

  “Gabe said he saw . . . He said Madeline didn’t make it.”

  She shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. Madeline was ash. Gone. “Oh God.”

  “That was Jackson on the phone. Her Second,” Az said, continuing when she nodded. “All he knows is that Madeline never came home. He’s called you seven times. He’s a wreck, Eden. He keeps saying he has to talk to you. I tried to get him to tell me why, but he wouldn’t have it.” He shrugged. “I even offered to give the phone to Jarrod. He said only you.”

  She held her hand out, and Az passed her the phone. “Where is Jarrod?” she asked, suddenly looking around the hotel room. Sullivan was missing, too. The comforter was spread on the floor where they’d slept, an abandoned pillow a foot away.

  “Down the hall. Sullivan said she needed air, but Jarrod wasn’t looking good so I think she
was trying to figure out what’s up with him.”

  Biting her lip against the ache in her bones, Eden tried to straighten while she pulled up Jackson’s number on her phone. Az looped an arm around her. She sighed against his chest as she hit Send.

  When Jackson answered, she realized just what Az had meant by him sounding wrecked. His voice shook. “If this is Eden, say so. I’m not talking to anyone but her.”

  “It’s me.” She’d seen Jackson only once, briefly; he’d been with Madeline the night Jarrod had stayed out with Sullivan and they’d thought he’d been taken. She barely remembered what he looked like, but his agony and fear were clear.

  “Madeline made me stay home last night with some of our Siders. They found out about her. I don’t know how.”

  Eden frowned. “Found out about who? Madeline?”

  “No!” Jackson shouted loud enough that she had to pull the phone from her ear. “The girl. She’s one of us! They’re making her do it, spreading the word to any Sider they can get hold of. She’s changed a dozen of them already. I can hear her down there begging for help,” he said, his voice falling to a desperate mutter.

  “She’s a Sider? One like me? Who made her, Jackson, the Fallen or the Bound?”

  “Neither,” he answered. Through Jackson’s frantic sounds, she could hear pandemonium in the background. Sobs and slams and then Jackson yelling unintelligible words. She plugged one ear and pressed the phone tighter against the other.

  “What’s going on?” Az asked. She shook her head, unsure even what to tell him. A sharp bang made her wince. There was a shuffle.

  “Are you there? Hello?” Jackson called.

  “What’s going on?” Eden demanded. She eased away from Az and lowered her feet to the carpet. Black flashes nicked at the edge of her vision. Az touched her shoulder as she swayed slightly, but she caught his hand instead and used it for leverage to stand. “Jackson, tell me. Now.”

  “On the news,” he blurted. “They found a body. It was Mad, I’m sure of it.”