A Touch Mortal

by Leah Clifford

  Kristen dropped what was left of the cigarette, crushing it underfoot with her last step before she came to a stop. She handed over the piece of newspaper she’d been holding.

  It was an obituary. The picture showed a woman in her twenties. Eden scanned the article. Car accident. Fashion student. “What’s this?”

  “Passing knowledge of the deceased. Proper funeral-crashing etiquette dictates at least knowing her name.” Kristen tipped her head to the side.

  The parlor looked like a normal house, designed to blend from the white siding down to the choice of flowers in the mulched beds. Only the wooden sign staked down in the middle of the lawn betrayed its purpose. That and the well-dressed mourners plodding up the walkway. Cars lined either side of the street.

  “It’s packed in there already and we’re fifteen minutes early. My theory, proven once again,” Kristen said, climbing the stairs.

  “What theory would that be?”

  “Everyone adores a tragedy.” The door opened before them, the suited usher nodding, his expression serious until he actually looked at them.

  “Hey, Paul.” Kristen raised a hand, giving him a slight wiggle of her fingers. She gasped, gripping the sides of her dress in excitement. “You’ve redecorated! And such a wonderful eye for color! Cheers to the death of that dreadful wallpaper,” she exclaimed, taking in the hallway beyond. “Eden, meet Paul. His dad owns this place.”

  “And he told you you’re not allowed to be here. Why don’t you just hang out at Starbucks like a normal girl?”

  As if a switch flipped, Kristen’s delight faded. “This one I know, Paul.”

  Eden stared between the two of them. Paul wasn’t sold. Not even with Kristen’s pained expression, the dramatic sigh before she went on. “Amanda was my babysitter when I was little, our neighbor. I hadn’t seen her since we moved, but my mother requested that I make an appearance since she’s unable to attend.” She added a sad shake of her head, lowering her voice. “I don’t want to get you into trouble, Paul. I only need a few minutes.”

  He nodded, blushing with embarrassment.

  When they were safely out of his earshot and into the main viewing room, Kristen murmured, “That’ll teach him to call me out.”

  “You’re sick. You know that, right?”

  Kristen snorted a laugh, twisted it into a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m skilled. What you just witnessed? Beginner’s manipulation. And also a classic example of why research pays.” She sniffed, tossing the tissue into the trash.

  “Look.” Eden glanced around. The room was filling up, family and actual friends occupying the rows of chairs. “Why are we even here?”

  Kristen had led them to the receiving line. She tilted her head toward the man standing five feet to the side of the coffin, greeting each of the mourners after they paid their last respects. “Frank Watson. In seventeen days he’ll celebrate the big five-oh. He’s a CEO, but an honest one. Old money—the family has a crypt in the cemetery down the street. Usually upbeat, a nearly unbearable brand of cheerful. If I had spread Touch to him last week, chances are the Touch wouldn’t have killed him.”

  There it was again, the same word Adam had used. “What is that? Touch?”

  “Am I not explaining that now, Eden? Really, try to show some patience.” Kristen crossed her arms, taking a few steps to keep up with the line, but staying far enough from the mortals that they wouldn’t be overheard. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Eden rolled her eyes. “I’m feeling annoyed that you never answer any questions.”

  “A bit uneasy, maybe? Like you’ve had too much caffeine? That’s usually what it feels like when Touch isn’t spread, at least the first day.”

  “Currently I have a headache from lack of coffee. No jitters.”

  “Nothing?” Kristen took her in for a moment, as if waiting for her to break down. “Well, it’s still early, I suppose. Touch is, unfortunately, our burden to bear.” She glanced down at Eden’s hands. “And the reason you should be wearing gloves in public. Each day, starting tomorrow, you’ll be passing it to a different mortal. This needs to be done every day, Eden. If you let it build, it becomes lethal.”

  “So if I don’t touch people, it’ll kill me?”

  “No. Immortality is one of the rare upsides to being a Sider.” Kristen lowered her voice. “If you let it build, it will feel like being eviscerated. But Touch won’t kill you.” Her eyes darted to the coffin and back. “It’ll kill them. It’s a virus, and we’re the host.”

  “We make them sick?” Eden whispered.

  Kristen looked thoughtful. “It feeds off their feelings, strips away the ability to see right and wrong, to know when to stop. A mortal on Touch sees no consequences. I guess in that way it’s more like a drug than a virus. If they’re happy, satisfied, they come through with a few crazy stories.”

  Kristen swept her bangs out of her eyes, her fingers lingering on her brow. “Not every Sider takes it to a good place. Take Madeline, for example. She seeks out the suicidal. She enjoys it, Eden,” she said, enunciating each word. “Fancies herself some kind of reaper. Nothing gets that girl off more than using Touch to give them that final push.”

  “And what about you? What do you do?”

  “Not that.”

  “You don’t seem like the type to care. I mean, you gave her too much Touch and it made her crash.” Kristen’s head snapped up, the movement so sudden that Eden jumped.

  “I did nothing of the sort. I didn’t lay a finger on her.”

  “So what happened to her?” Eden asked. The line in front of them had run through. Kristen closed the gap, kneeling down in front of the coffin. Eden copied her, glancing around uncomfortably.

  “Obituary said car accident.” Kristen fell silent, her lips moving in prayer.

  Eden stared at the girl, found herself feeling sad for all the plans she’d put off for “maybe someday” that had died with her. There was a makeup line just below her ear, the hideous purple of a bruise showing through.

  Kristen rose from her knees. Eden followed when she backtracked past the people lined up behind them and toward the front door. Paul opened it for them. Kristen shot him a wink before traipsing down the stairs at the end of the walk, heading back toward her home.

  “What was the point? Paying your last respects?”

  Kristen dug for the silver case again, lighting another clove.

  “If we’re going to spend our day with these little girl chats, Eden, do learn to pay more attention. Her family has a crypt. Yes, they’re usually easy to get into, but I still like to check out the merchandise before I expend the energy.” She exhaled another cloud of smoke. It drifted into Eden’s path. “Jewelry was costume. Dress was hardly noteworthy. Black cocktail is so cliché. I just saved myself the trouble of finding out the hard way. As I said, research pays.”

  Eden’s head twisted as she reassessed Kristen’s dress, the antique rings adorning her fingers. “You’re telling me you rob graves?”

  “Nine times out of ten, the dead wear designer, and I’m on a budget.” She rolled her eyes at Eden’s hanging jaw. “Oh, honestly. I wash them.”

  “You’re insane!”

  “And you’re boring. You sounded much more interesting when Gabe was begging for my help.”

  Eden shifted out of the path of the smoke blowing in her direction, didn’t give Kristen the satisfaction of a cough.

  “How is Gabe even friends with you? How do you know him?”

  “You really want to know?” Kristen kept her eyes ahead, threading her fingers through her hair. She hesitated. “I guess I can bore you with a history lesson. There were no others when I became a Sider, at least not that I knew.” Kristen toyed with one of her rings. “Unlike you, I woke up on a park bench, not in a bed. Vodka and pills. I assumed it hadn’t been enough, figured it would be best to head home and face my father’s wrath.” Kristen’s gaze had gone far off. “
It was an office, my room. It hadn’t been an office when I’d left a few hours before. None of my notebooks, no school portraits. Like I never existed. I thought he was trying to scare me for breaking curfew. For a long time, I thought it was just an amazingly creative way of kicking me out. Truth was, I don’t exist to them. They have no memory of me.” Her fingers trailed along the shrubs lining the sidewalk, separating the manicured yards from the street. “Now you understand why I wasn’t willing to show you to a phone last night.”

  Eden’s voice came out a whisper. “Did Gabe forget about me? Is that why he hasn’t come?”

  “Mortals forget us because we’re not part of their path. We don’t have one. Neither do angels. He remembers you just fine.” Kristen dropped the clove, crushed it with her next step. “I found a cemetery, slept on a pew in its chapel. I had to figure out for myself that I felt better when I touched people. I wasn’t doing so well in those days. Reality and I had a bit of a tiff. I ended up living in that chapel for two years.” A wistful smile hinted at her lips. “Two years of utter hell, ended, when they walked through the door.”

  “They? I thought you said it was Gabe?”

  “Your little deviant was with him, of course.” She glanced down at her hand as if wishing for the cigarette to still be there. “I tried to hit them up with Touch.” Eden’s jaw dropped. “Oh, relax. Angels are immune to fingertips.” She swallowed hard. “Gabe told me he knew of others, though I was the first of our kind he spoke to. He fixed things for me.”

  They turned up the walkway to Kristen’s house. Kristen jangled her keys as she walked through the door and Sebastian appeared like Pavlov’s dog. “I don’t do well with debt. I’ve owed Gabriel too much for too long, but he broke the bank with you, sweet pea.”

  Eden tried to keep the pleading from her voice. “I don’t understand what I’m doing here.”

  “I gave him my word that I would teach you what I know, as little as it is. You will have a roof over your head, food, anything you need. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.”

  “And then what?” Eden asked.

  Kristen smiled. “Why, Eden. If I told you, it’d spoil the surprise.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Eden wiggled her fingers, the gloves on her hands too tight, the material sticky with sweat. She hadn’t wanted to wear them, but Kristen insisted. The subway was packed. Kristen hadn’t said where they were going. She sat silent next to Eden, her eyes closed, hands gloved and folded in her lap. Another day, another dress, Eden thought.

  The train lurched around a curve and Kristen’s eyes snapped open.

  “Next stop, we get off.”

  Eden spun one of the rings she wore. “So, what will it feel like? Passing Touch?”

  Kristen turned toward her. “Intensely painful. Think root canal with no anesthesia.” Eden’s eyes widened. Kristen snorted. “Relax. You’ll feel a release. It’s quite pleasurable. Then a bit of relief from the tension you’re feeling.”

  “But I don’t feel any—”

  Kristen stood, cutting her off as the train screeched into the station. “Don’t leave my side. Madeline gave me her word she wouldn’t tell the Fallen you exist, but we’re not as close as we once were. I don’t trust her. She might decide spilling a secret as large as yours would be worth the damage I’d inflict.”

  Eden hurried alongside her, trying to keep pace. For not wanting to lose her, Kristen sure as hell seemed on a mission to do just that. “You used to be friends with her? What, were you two fighting over boys?” Eden asked sarcastically, trying not to show Kristen how winded she was from the run up the stairs.

  Kristen slowed as they reached street level, turning to stare at her. “Who said that?”

  Eden smirked at her unintentional strike. “No one. You used to be friends with her. You’re not anymore. That usually means there’s a guy involved, unless you were after Madeline herself.”

  A sudden laugh burst out of Kristen. She skirted around a vendor on the sidewalk. The smell of relish hung in the air, mixing with exhaust. “Madeline! God, I could never date her, even if I went that way. She’d drive me insane. And yes.” Kristen stopped at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk. “There was a guy, though not how you’d suspect.”

  “What happened?” Eden asked, glad for the chance to finally catch her breath. The light changed. They followed the stream of pedestrians, crossing the street.

  Kristen held up her hand, the fingers splayed. “Five of us, originally. Gabe told me where to find them. I introduced myself, suggested we’d do better if we pooled our resources, compared notes on what we knew. Only Madeline and Erin agreed. Watch your step,” Kristen said, leaping over a pothole full of slimy water and cigarette butts.

  “So you lived together?” Eden skirted around the hole.

  “As you saw yesterday, suffering brings people together. We’d each thought we were the only Sider. You’ll never know what that’s like.” Kristen gave her a once-over as they turned a corner, passing a bookstore. “Then, suddenly, we were a triad. We learned quickly to trust each other. I was naïve enough to believe our bond was unbreakable. I was wrong.”

  Kristen fell silent, leading them across another street.

  It took a few minutes before Eden realized their wandering wasn’t random. They were following someone. A guy, his yellow shirt standing out enough that she noticed it.

  “Remove your gloves,” Kristen said. Eden’s heart quickened. She slipped the gloves off, stuffing them into her pocket. They stayed directly behind him, Kristen creeping closer when he brought a cell phone to his ear. As his conversation ended, she dropped back a few paces, turning to Eden.

  “Are you ready?” Kristen asked. This is it, Eden thought. “Were you listening to him?” Eden shook her head. Kristen didn’t hide her disappointment. “He told whoever he was talking to that he got it, that things were looking up.”

  “It what?”

  Kristen gave her head a slight shake. “Doesn’t matter. From the tone of his voice, things are going his way. This is how we chose our mark, Eden. Observations like these. It’s not fail-safe, but we do what we can. When you dose him, it’s likely he’ll take the Touch well. Perhaps we’re helping him celebrate. I want you to speed up. As you pass him, make sure your fingers make skin contact. Understood?” Eden swallowed the sudden knot in her throat, nodding. They turned a corner, heading down a side street. “Now,” Kristen whispered.

  Eden forced her feet faster, kept her eyes on the guy’s hand, swinging at his side. She drew up alongside him, counting down in her head. Her hand drifted away from her side. She felt his knuckles graze hers, turned her hand. Her heart hammered as her fingers slid across his.

  A current surged through her, a glow marking where her fingertips made contact. Eden gasped, her breath catching at the pleasure as the Touch left her. The guy sidestepped, looked down, and then glanced up at her in confusion. Eden smiled an apology.

  “I thought you were someone else.” He nodded, speeding up again.

  Eden slowed.

  “Well? How was it?” Kristen asked.

  “It…it felt good.”

  “Of course it did,” Kristen scoffed. “You saw the glow, right? And your anxiety dropped when it passed?”

  Anxiety? Eden thought. Maybe I missed that. She nodded, unsure. That couldn’t be all there was to passing Touch. No way.

  Kristen ducked into a deli, sending a jangle from the bell on the door. The counter was busy, a long line of people snaking through a smattering of occupied tables. At one a couple stood, gathering their wrappers and empty cups as they prepared to leave. Kristen smiled at them.

  “We’ll get rid of that for you if you’ll bequeath us your table.” Behind Kristen, Eden tensed. She’s going to do it, she thought as Kristen slipped off her gloves. Instead, Kristen sunk into a chair. “Thank you!” she called sweetly as the couple abandoned their table and trash to her.

  Eden caught a snickered, “Freak” as the guy threw an arm aro
und his companion, before he leaned in to add, “What the fuck does ‘bequeath’ mean?”

  At the table, Kristen’s eyes shot skyward. She blew out an angry breath, her bangs lifting in its wake. “Sit, Eden,” she demanded.

  Eden picked up a clean-looking napkin from the mess and swiped a splotch of ketchup from the tabletop. “You couldn’t even let them take their garbage? I thought you were going to hit them with the stuff,” she said. She plopped down opposite Kristen.

  “One, I have reasons behind my behavior, always, and questioning them makes you look foolish,” Kristen said, her voice quietly dangerous. “If we were sitting at a clean table, we’d be bothered. Two, I barely spoke to them. I didn’t pick up enough to be sure they could handle”—she paused to smirk, raising her fingers in air quotes—“the stuff, as you so eloquently put it. Passing Touch shouldn’t be done without consideration for the victim. Their life is in your hands, Eden. Quite literally.”

  Eden’s eyes flashed up to the door as the couple exited, the gravity of Touch hitting her. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  Kristen smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Madeline disagrees with me on that point.”

  “She wants to kill people? Why?”

  The smile faded from Kristen’s lips. “Madeline feels if she crosses paths with a mortal, their destiny is to die if she wills it.”

  Kristen played with an empty straw wrapper, crunching it into a tight ball. “I knew Gabriel’s secret, and that he was watching us. He’d warned me of the Fallen. All I wanted was for us to stay off their radar. But Madeline had grown accustomed to playing God.” Kristen’s attention shifted for a moment, her head tilting as she listened to a passing conversation between two girls. Eden tuned in. She could only catch snippets over the drone of the deli: “thought I’d marry him,” and “ten days before,” and “what am I going to do.”

  Kristen frowned, lowered her voice to a whisper. “Girl A just got broken up with. A dose of Touch would easily be enough to send her over the edge. Maddy would have been all over that one.” She straightened, meeting Eden’s gaze. “You said a guy came between Madeline and me. That guy was Gabriel. I do my best to spare the mortals, not affect their paths, the way he taught me. Madeline…” She hesitated, her brow wrinkling. “She chose other alliances. Erin didn’t want to split up the group, but Madeline laid down an ultimatum. Me or her. Bound or Fallen. Erin refused to pick sides. I’ve hardly spoken to her since.”