A Touch Mortal

by Leah Clifford

  Eden smirked. “Any chance you’ll let it go?” Jarrod let out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t think so,” she said, climbing the stairs.

  CHAPTER 22

  First it had been a car alarm; that had been easy enough to laugh off. But after jumping at the sound of the toaster, a blush colored Gabe’s cheeks.

  Transferring from Upstairs never got any easier. It didn’t take any physical effort, just a pure thought of home was enough to get him there, but the New York tension, millions of tightly wound mortal coils, always seemed worse when he returned.

  To top it off, on this trip there’d been an agenda. Most of his time Upstairs had been spent scouring through the record room, checking and double-checking. Tedious research on the dozen names Kristen had given him.

  But he’d found what he was looking for.

  Az shot him a sidelong gaze while he scraped butter onto his toast. “You’re edgy….”

  A glob of butter melted off the knife, slopping onto the dish’s daisy chain border. Gabe sighed, long and harder than he’d intended. “Nnnn…” His voice strained on the first letter. He couldn’t finish the word.

  Az dropped the blade onto the plate next to it, watching Gabe stifle a gag.

  “No? You sure?” Az reached behind, opening the refrigerator. He groped the top shelf and handed Gabe a can of soda. “For the sulfur,” he added.

  Gabe cracked the pull tab, took a long swig. Az shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his elbows cocked behind him, leaning on the counter.

  The straight inky hair didn’t look right on him. Gabe still hadn’t grown used to the new look, the way the black of the dye set off Az’s eyes. There were dark circles under them—yesterday’s eyeliner had apparently given in to wanderlust while he’d slept.

  The harsh light from the bare bulb glared against his shirtless chest, shadowing his abs. He’d lost weight when things had gotten offtrack with Eden. Now, from the look of things, he was losing more. His collarbone jutted as he took another bite of the toast. Well? he asked with his eyes.

  “I was near her apartment. Near. Not at, right?” Gabe hesitated. “Because I don’t want you to freak out at this next part.”

  Az lowered his hand. Gabe looked away. “I saw Luke.”

  He heard the wet kiss of the toast landing butter side down, waited for the panicked yelling to start. Or worse.

  For a change, Az seemed to be keeping his cool. “Is she all right?” he asked quietly. “Tell me that first.” When Gabe looked up, he saw Az had closed his eyes. His hands were shaking.

  “She’s fine, Az. I would have told you if…”

  “Okay,” he said. “Tell me what happened.” The quaking had spread to Az’s legs. Gabe wasn’t sure if it was in rage or fear. Either way it wasn’t good. It had been weeks since he’d been overwhelmed with a temptation to Fall. His hips rattled against the countertop, yesterday’s low-slung jeans offering no protection.

  “The Basement knows there’s a rogue, what she can do. Luke’s getting close. I don’t think he knows it’s Eden,” Gabe added, knowing it wouldn’t matter.

  Az scooped the toast from the floor, tossing it into the trash. He grasped the edge of the counter as he leaned back against it. “Yet. Like that won’t change the second he sees her.”

  “Az, we knew he’d be after her as soon as he figured out she was different.”

  “But we were supposed to be there.”

  “And just how do you expect to be there?”

  “She’ll answer the phone.” He stopped when he saw Gabe’s shoulders shrugging up and down with soft laughter. “What?”

  “You’re delusional.” Gabe ran his thumb across his lips, as if to brush away the smile.

  “Prick,” Az mumbled.

  “Hey, I would be very nice to me were I you. Are we even talking about the same girl, because Eden is far too stubborn to randomly pick up the phone. You’ve been trying almost every day for how long?” Az’s eyes flared, the blue ring rusting to a sour maroon, betraying his anger. “I think it’d be better if you left talking to her up to me.”

  “So what?” He pushed away from the counter. “You want me to stop trying?”

  “Az,” Gabe said softly. “Look how upset you are. Maybe it’d be better if you let her go. Use the wings,” he said, hating the pleading arc that crept into his voice at the end. He opened his mouth, but already knew the answer when he saw the look in Az’s eyes. “You could come home,” he finished anyway. “I’d make sure she’s kept safe.”

  “Not a fucking chance.” Az pushed off the counter, striding to the front door. He’d slid on one of his shoes before Gabe caught up. “You know what ‘upsets’ me,” Az ground out, tightening the laces in a double knot. He grabbed for his coat with one hand, yanking his other shoe on with a hooked finger. “That you think she’s dispensable.”

  Gabe’s jaw dropped. “When did I ever say that?”

  “What’d you just ask me to do? Use the wings, come home,” he mocked. “They’d never let me back down here,” Az said. “I’d never see her again.”

  Gabe slammed a fist against the door.

  “Okay, lover boy. I’ve had it with this,” he said, tossing his hand in an angry flair. “This whole ‘poor Az’ thing. What are you gonna do? You think you can just say you’re sorry and she’s gonna let it all go? Let you waltz in there and play knight in shining armor? How’d that work out for you at Kristen’s?”

  “Fuck you, Gabriel.” Az stopped suddenly, his coat in his hand, staring. “What’s with you lately? You’re all over the place.”

  Gabe glanced away, hiding his eyes.

  “You know I love Eden. Now you want me to throw that away and go back Upstairs? I’m worried about her and you’re laughing about it?” Az leaned against the door. “You’re having trouble, aren’t you?”

  Gabe winced. “Not confessing goes against everything inside me. It gets harder every day.” He lifted his head, let Az see the shame in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can hold out much longer, Az.”

  “You can do this, Gabe.” Az took a breath, let it out slowly. “You have to. Once the Bound find out about the Siders, things will only get worse. I need to get through to Eden before then. It’s been two months. I gave her space, gave her time to cool off. I’m just gonna have to talk to her face-to-face.”

  “You do what you have to do, but give me a chance to talk to her first. I found something out when I was Upstairs. I don’t want her to be all pissed off when I tell her. Turns out she’s more different than we thought.”

  Az thought about it for a second before he nodded. “In the meantime, I think you need to stay away from Upstairs. The more you go up there, the worse you seem to get.”

  Gabe turned away. “I know,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was just after one in the morning when they left the apartment. Adam barely made it out the door before he froze. Jarrod pushed past him, got his own view of what had stopped Adam, and glanced back at her.

  On the stairs sat two teenagers, staring at Eden. The one closest to her held out a handful of money.

  “Little late, aren’t you?” Eden asked, forcing the surprise from her face. She turned back to Adam and Jarrod. “Wait here.”

  The two Siders who’d been on the stairs followed around the corner. There was no denying that word about her was spreading.

  A minute later, back at the base of the stairs, the boys fell into step behind her. She pulled the leftover cash from earlier out of her pocket, added the new bills to the stash, and handed it to Adam.

  “That makes rent, right?” A steady ache throbbed deep inside the bones of her arms, the Touch she’d taken in winding its way past her elbows, across her shoulders, and up her neck. She draped her hand against the wall to keep her balance. The fingers burned, but it had nothing to do with the way her knuckles scraped across the brick. Eden blinked hard, trying to clear the sudden blur to her vision.

  “Already?”
He counted. “With this we’re only a hundred short,” he said. “Plus what we spend tonight.”

  Jarrod sped up, pacing her. “How many have you taken since you last dosed us?”

  Eden shrugged. The motion knocked her off kilter. She teetered for a split second before she steadied, focusing on the subway entrance only a couple dozen steps away. As she stepped off the curb, Jarrod grabbed her arm, spinning her around. The twirl seemed to keep going after her body stopped. She swallowed a wave of nausea.

  “Eden, how many?” he growled.

  “A lot, all right!” she yelled. “I don’t need a lecture, Jarrod.”

  His grip tightened. “You can’t keep going like this.”

  “We could move,” Adam offered up. Just that he was suggesting it made Eden wince. They already knew how it would turn out. The Siders would be there before they’d even had a chance to get settled. It’d been that way when they’d gone from the hotel to the apartment. They’d found her.

  Her stomach churned, the taste of warm bile rising into her throat. She fought it back down.

  “They’re showing up at night now, and you don’t think we need to talk about this? Figure something out?” Jarrod demanded.

  “Isn’t that the point of what we’re doing tonight? We’ll see if it helps. You won the bet, so I’m sticking to my part of it. What else do you want from me?” she asked wearily.

  As she made her way down the stairs to the platform, she glanced up to the apartment window where James watched from above. The blinds lowered.

  “We’ll figure it out, Jarrod,” she promised. “Ready?” She handed him the key, her platforms clanking down the metal stairs, ending the conversation.

  Two trains and a four-block walk later they could hear the thumping. Deep bass beats drew them through empty streets lined with warehouses. A smattering of mortal teens wandered in from the alleys, gathering into a stream funneled toward the same goal. Eden watched them, amused as she followed the crowd. Decked out in Day-Glo and wigs, a few had streamers hanging from their wrists and ankles, turning them into tornados of color when they spun happily. Two in the morning and the rave was just starting to gain strength.

  Eden ran two fingers over her perfectly gelled hair, sliding the black waves dancing across her cheeks back into place near her temple. The pin curls had taken forever to get perfect, delicate enough to balance out the punk Goth mix of her outfit with a Suicide Girl edge. Back at the apartment, she’d been careful to separate the pink highlights out, give them their own curls. When it was done, there had been a kick-ass version of a twenties-style movie starlet staring back at her from the mirror.

  Jarrod pulled a flyer from his low-slung cargo pants—their official invitation—and handed it to the man at the door. Adam doled out the entrance fees as they strode past, through an enormous metal door into the shadows cast by strobe lights inside.

  Eden watched the crowd for a moment, her stomach knotting. Every part of tonight had “bad idea” written all over it. She thought about turning around, heading home, figuring out some other way.

  The deep bass pounded its rhythm into her chest, spreading roots that tingled down through her legs and into the floor. The techno beats pulsed with a life of their own, the crowd jumping, spinning under the colored strobes. For just half a second she lost herself in the chaos. When she pulled out of the trance, Adam and Jarrod were there on either side of her, ready. Waiting. It was time to spread the virus.

  She tried not to pass herself if she could help it. Her potency meant the difference between shooting sprees and midnight joyrides, stolen lives and stolen kisses. For any hope of survival it had to be diluted through the boys. Especially tonight. Seven. Seven today, but there had been nearly as many yesterday. It was an invitation for disaster.

  Jarrod and Adam could handle the extra burst of Touch as long as they dispersed it quick, before it had a chance to settle in them. They were the only ones she trusted her lips around. “It’s gonna be a bigger dose than normal. Ready?”

  She shook her fingers out, stalling. Jarrod had already leaned closer. She pressed her mouth against his quickly, careful not to breathe. The sudden buzz that electrified her had nothing to do with the music. They shared a beat before Jarrod pulled away and the song went on. Eyes shimmering, he bit his lip.

  She turned to Adam. He slid a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close in a sudden rush.

  The kiss lasted a second too long, the static thrumming through her as the throbbing from the turntables climbed to a crescendo. In the glow of the swirling reds and purples of the lights, Adam didn’t blink, didn’t leave her. A steady single pulse matched the sound of her heart as the DJ spun another record. Eden raised a shaking hand, pointing out into the crowd.

  Go. She didn’t bother to say the word, any hope of him hearing her voice above the music lost as the volume shook her. He turned, slipping behind a veil of gyrating bodies. The tremors didn’t stop. He only wanted the extra Touch. She didn’t let herself consider any other possibility.

  Alone with the crowd, she had no one to distract her from the fingers, arms, and elbows all around her. Eden’s legs shook with the need to get rid of more. She fought her way toward the middle of the warehouse, tucking her arms across her chest, concentrating on keeping the rhythm outside her head. Adam and Jarrod needed to hurry.

  And then someone grabbed her arm and dipped her low before setting her on her feet again. Her hand brushed against bare skin. Her breath caught as the dose of Touch left her. A beautiful rush of endorphins coursed through her, left her lighter. Eden’s hand moved on its own, searching out the next victim. Just a few. The thought was there, disorganized but demanding.

  The spin started slow, a delicate twirling as she gave in to the spell the song cast. The beats wound their way into her, hands flying from her sides. As she spun, her fingers danced across a trio of shoulders, exposed collarbones that seemed to lean closer. They want it, she thought, her head pounding, rattling and lost. Every bit of skin she touched glowed, a wide wake of fireflies spreading out behind her as she danced.

  The room crushed in, spiraling around her in a blur. The crowd as a whole didn’t matter, only the parts. Her fingers caught cheeks, foreheads, exposed midriffs. Too many. Dozens. Hundreds. Limbs twisting, touching, brushing. Her eyes closed as she let go, lost in the ecstasy, the release of so much poison built up inside. The power ebbed from her, the pure joy of silence as Touch left her. Hair brushed her cheek and a hand cupped Eden’s ear to yell words lost to the decibels. But the contact was there and gone so quickly and then there was only her, dizzy and buried somewhere in the mad mob. The music, the lights; nothing stopped.

  She tried to lift a hand, find something to hold onto, steady herself. The awful queasy movement doubled, a feeling of emptiness, holes inside her where the Touch had been.

  Words leaped off her tongue and into the silence as the song ended and then she was falling, lost in darkness beyond the strobe lights’ reach. I gave too much, she thought desperately, trying to get an elbow under her, to get up again. Her hand slipped against the concrete, skinning her palm as she sank onto her back.

  Her stomach heaved. She barely had time to turn her head before the rush of vomit spilled across the floor. The strobe lights flickered twice in her long blinks before going black.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I think she’s coming around.” The voice floated out of still, dark space. Her ears hummed. A palm slapped her cheek lightly. From far away, someone called her name.

  “Too much,” she moaned. “Pass back.” It was all she could muster before her head lolled back. Fingers pressed against the back of her neck. The strange feeling of floating, and then someone set her down and she realized she’d been carried. Smell of dirty leather and sweat. Backseat of a cab. She forced her eyes open.

  Three dark shapes sat silhouetted against the lights of the city shining through the backseat windows. Her head leaned against a shoulder, the rest of her pulled
onto the lap.

  “She better not be OD’ing.” She could barely make out the words through the thick accent. Cab driver.

  “She’s fine.” Jarrod was there.

  “Eden?” It came from whoever had her. Adam. His fingers ran down her cheek and she shivered, leaning into the palm that followed.

  “What happened?” Eden thought he was talking to her, but someone else answered.

  “I don’t know. I saw her and tried to talk to her. She looked so awful I thought something was wrong. And then she fell…after the whole screaming thing.” Eden lifted an inch from Adam’s shoulder, squinting to make out the outline of whoever had spoken. A pony-tailed head was squeezed in next to Jarrod’s shape. The girl from Milton’s last night.

  Eden groaned and Adam pressed her head back down against him again. She let him; taking in sips of buildings and sky through the back window the few times she bothered to open her eyes.

  Just when she began to wonder if the ride would ever end, the car stopped. Adam slid out from under her, but he was back a second later, lifting her from the backseat. She felt the bounce of each of the stairs.

  “Are they waiting for me?” she whispered. “I need some.”

  “Key?” he asked Jarrod, ignoring her.

  Jarrod swung the door open, led them up the four flights of stairs to their apartment. Someone closed the door behind them.

  “Eden!” she heard James shriek, felt him pawing at her, trying to get a look. “Who did this to her?”

  “Move,” Adam said, brushing past the boy. He set her gently on the couch, then settled himself with her head on his lap, sliding a hand across her eyes when she tried to open them.

  “I’m almost empty,” she croaked, trying to push his hand away. “Touch…”

  “She did it to herself,” Adam said, finally answering James. The boy was there when she opened her eyes for a second. She hated his look of worry and tried to smile for him, but it felt all wrong on her face, almost a grimace.