A Touch Morbid

by Leah Clifford

  He snuck a quick once-over of her.

  “Like what ya see, Tiger?” she asked, her eyes never straying from the television screen.

  He felt himself flush. “You feel anything yet?”

  “Yeah,” she said, rolling over toward him on her pillow. “I feel bored as hell.”

  He crossed his legs Indian style on the bed. Bored wasn’t good. Bored was a first-class ticket to contemplating life, and contemplating life, especially from the few hints he’d picked up from Sullivan about her past, would be a one-way ticket out the window. Quite handy since they were on the goddamned fifth floor. He’d already closed the curtains, unplugged the hair dryer in the bathroom and hid it in the closet, and made her give him her half-full bottle of aspirin.

  “So, we’ll get unbored. What do you do? Like, for fun?”

  She smirked. “I steal Touch from strangers. If it’s a super-stellar night, I somehow end up getting babysat by said stranger in my shitty hotel room.” After clicking through a few more fuzzy channels, she bounded off the other bed. “I can’t sit here all night.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she pulled on her coat.

  She reached for his hand like she was going to drag him with her. He had gloves on, not trusting her enough to take them off, but she stopped herself shy and turned away. “Come with me if you want, but I’m going for a walk.”

  He stared at her. “It’s freezing out. And last I checked it was still snowing.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind. Stay here if you’re going to whine.”

  “I’m not whining,” he said. “I’m stating facts.”

  “So am I. It is a fact that you asked me what I like to do.” Her tone shifted, drifting further from sarcasm with each word until it was almost a dreamy slur. “I like to walk. I like snow.”

  “Sullivan?” Jarrod uncrossed his legs, standing. She turned to him, the apples of her cheeks blushed pink. Her eyes danced over his, her smile blossoming so bright it seemed to infuse her whole body instead of staying on her lips.

  “You care what happens to me.” She spun like a ballerina through the center of the room, her gasp full of wonder. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Jarrod stalled with a half smile, not sure how to answer. Sullivan twirled away the space between them. Her hand curled across the back of his neck.

  Jarrod didn’t move.

  She mirrored him, holding perfectly still, the grin frozen on her lips—lips close enough to his that he should have been worried, should have been jerking away.

  “You.” Her fingers flexed against his skin, the word a single breathy exhale. “I want to see beautiful things with you.”

  He didn’t say anything. It was like his brain suddenly decided it wanted to opt out of this one. He barely knew the girl, and she was high on Touch. Plus, it wasn’t safe, not with Luke and the Bound both hunting around for Siders now. But…

  “Okay,” he said cautiously. She’d taken the dose good. The worry had melted from her eyes, tension lines between her eyebrows fading. “What kind of beautiful things?” he asked.

  She let go of his neck.

  “Snow!” she said over her shoulder, grabbing his coat off the bed and handing it to him. “We’ll start with the snow!”

  She squealed as she reached the door, breaking into a run. He sped up, tearing down the hall after her to the emergency stairs. Her laugh echoed as she slammed through the door hard enough to bang it against the cement wall behind it. The crash reverberated down the stairwell. Her eyes widened to almost comical proportions, her mouth a wide O of delight. “Think they’ll come yell at us?”

  He turned sideways and hopped on the metal railing. “Luckily,” he said conspiratorially, “I’m kick-ass at escapes.” He let go, sliding, his legs kicked out for balance. Sullivan bounded past him to the landing and held her arms up like she’d catch him. His hands hit her shoulders, momentum spinning them both in a circle.

  This close, he could smell lotion or perfume, her scent summery and wild. Her eyes shot to the exit, back to him. She held out her hand.

  “You and me?” she asked.

  He looked at her hand, raised his head to meet her eyes. She looked like she really did want him with her. So what if it was the Touch?

  The happier she is, the better she’ll get through it. He grabbed her hand, working his gloved fingers between her bare ones. Sullivan smiled, stepped back, and pushed the door open.

  Just for tonight, he thought fiercely. Only because it’ll help her.

  The crisp air stole his breath as they came out into a back parking lot. Giant snowflakes fell all around them, everything covered in white, sparkling under the domed lights.

  She wrapped her arm around his, sticking out her tongue to catch a flake as her head dropped to his shoulder, their steps synchronized as they walked. He laughed, blinking melted snowflakes from his lashes.

  “I have an idea,” Sullivan said, lifting her head from his shoulder. She untangled her arm. On the snow-covered asphalt of an empty parking spot, she flopped onto her back. A few scrapes and she’d made a perfect snow angel. She smiled at him, seemed completely unaware of the absurdity of lying in a parking lot, giggling like mad. “Your turn!”

  Jarrod cast a glance around them, not quite ready to let down his guard. No one. No angels or Siders or mortals.

  Only him and Sullivan.

  She laughed as he dropped down beside her, flapped his arms and legs twice in a token effort. He sat up and glanced back at the blank spot his head had left. With his gloved hands he scooped up some snow, rolling out two tiny balls. He plunked them down where his eyes should have been.

  Sullivan clapped. “Look who’s coming around!” she said appreciatively. She added eyes to her own, then pointed at their matching masterpieces. “Our wings are touching!”

  Jarrod glanced at Sullivan, only meaning to shoot her a smile, but his eyes wouldn’t leave her. Her happiness changed her, brightened her cheeks and eyes, bringing out something in her he hadn’t seen before. Suddenly he got it—why she searched out Siders, why nothing mattered more than finding the next hit of Touch. For a perfect second, he got it. Being able to go for it, say what you wanted, live for the moment… A rush of adrenaline surged through him.

  “Sullivan,” he said, his voice wavering. “You’re beautiful.” Before the words even left him, self-consciousness flared up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  The snow creaked, packing underneath her knees as she moved closer. Her arms were around him, hugging him tight.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Why would you say such a nice thing and then try to take it away?”

  He didn’t answer, wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You should kiss me.” She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his chin. He closed his eyes, couldn’t risk her seeing the disappointment in them.

  “I can’t.” He felt her smile against his skin.

  “You can,” she said lightly.

  “Sullivan, I can’t do this.” He didn’t know what would happen, if it was safe. Eden and Az flashed through his mind. But Az was an angel trying not to Fall and Sullivan was a girl. A mortal girl. A girl whose hands were around his neck, pulling him closer.

  And he couldn’t pull away.

  Her lips hit his. He moaned, the sound surging out of him even as he realized it wasn’t because he’d passed Touch, that there was no numb tingle, that it was because of her. He broke out in goose bumps. She giggled and pulled away enough to speak.

  “You’re cold,” she said. “We should go in. To the room.”

  “I don’t think that’s—” She held a finger to his lips. He tried to say it again and she kissed him into silence, her finger still pressed between their lips.

  Maybe there was nothing wrong with giving in. Just once.

  He helped her up, not paying attention to anything but her. “Okay,” he said quickly, knowing if he thought about it he’d lose his nerve, lose the moment. “
Okay.”

  They ran through the lot, to the back entrance. A second passed while she fished in her pocket for the pass key and he almost thought he should pull away, but then she pressed him against the wall, her mouth greedy on his, her hand blindly fumbling beside them, slipping the plastic card through the slot.

  They stumbled up the stairs, through the door, stripping off their coats, dropping them as their hands roamed, tugged, unbuttoned.

  Jarrod grabbed her wrist. “You’re… Are you?” Sullivan only laughed.

  “I’m sure, and I am more than okay.” She ran her finger across his waistline. “How about you? Still with me?”

  He knew it was partly Touch talking. But Touch didn’t make people unaware of what they were doing, just amped up desires already there, hidden away. It cracked open the bottled parts. And maybe, right now, that wasn’t a bad thing. He couldn’t let her slip away, didn’t want it to end.

  So he nodded, kissed her again, and let his thoughts stop.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pedestrians streamed past, slamming into Eden, oblivious to her distress. “He’s gone.” Az’s hand was on her back, comforting her. “Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “We’ll find him,” Az promised. Eden yanked her hands through her hair, searching faces in the crowd.

  When Jarrod hadn’t answered his phone, she’d told herself not to panic. Talked herself out of checking up on him. Half an hour after he was supposed to be home, she’d called Zach and found out Jarrod had left his shift early, something about a girl looking for Eden. The description hadn’t matched any Siders Eden knew, but it had matched the strange girl he’d pointed out at Milton’s yesterday.

  “Luke has another Sider. She killed Jarrod. I know it.” Her stomach cramped. She stopped, leaning against a building. “He’ll send me his ashes.” Another pain shot through her. “I can’t … get my breath,” she choked out before her throat spasmed shut.

  Az’s arm came around her hip, holding her up. She sucked in a gulp of air, coughing and blinking hard. Her eyes stung, watering as if they were full of grit, but cleared enough to see Az’s concern. “Are you all right?”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of black across it. She wasn’t sure she could get her voice to work without setting off her coughing again, settled for nodding.

  “You’re going to call Madeline,” he said. Before the name fully left him she was already shaking her head, but he went on, wiping her dripping eyes with his thumb. “Call Madeline and tell her what’s going on. She’s got a whole crew of Siders living with her. She wants you to take out Vaughn. Offer her that in exchange for a search party.”

  She didn’t even know if Madeline would come after last night. But if anything could bring her, it was Eden giving her word about Vaughn. Eden broke into a sob and Az tucked her against his shoulder. “I don’t want to send him Downstairs.”

  “If you had to choose between him and Jarrod?” She tensed, and he murmured soothingly in her ear before he went on. “Eden, you have something she wants. She will help you. Call her.”

  Madeline met them in front of Milton’s. Within an hour, she’d gathered a list of places where Jarrod was both most and least likely to be found and dispatched her troops. Eden had spent the time silent, sure every moment that Madeline would bring up last night, parts of her warring about whether it mattered. All she wanted was for Jarrod to be found safe.

  “You know where Luke hangs out. You’ll check those, too?” Az asked.

  Madeline shot him a patronizing glare and then pointed past him to the last five of the twenty Siders she’d blazed into Manhattan trailing. “You and you,” she said to two beautiful waiflike girls. “Aerie. Get backstage. Check the back lot. Use any means necessary.” They left without a word and she went on to the boys, pointing at them one by one. “Stay at Milton’s. Jackson, go to the warehouse. Concentrate on the roof and the basement.” Eden realized which warehouse she referred to, the one Luke had held Az captive in, and a sorrowful sound broke from her. If Madeline heard, she didn’t react. “You,” she said to the last slip of a boy. “Kristen’s. Take the back stair, check only Kristen’s room, and mind Sebastian. Do not get caught.”

  “Wait,” Eden said. “Kristen’s?”

  Madeline’s eyes skipped to Az and back. “I’m being thorough. Kristen’s been scarce, and in my book scarce means sketchy.”

  “What do you mean ‘scarce’?” Eden cut in.

  Madeline let out an indulgent sigh. “You really hadn’t noticed? Scarce. Not present,” she said. “And I’m sure it’s a silly coincidence, but our villain of interest has also been increasingly off my radar. Makes me all…” She made a face, her tongue out to the side as if she’d tasted something gone bad, adding an exaggerated shiver of her shoulders. “Blech.”

  “You think Luke has Kristen?”

  Madeline hesitated, her words careful. “I’d be more worried that she blames you for Gabe’s Fall and wants revenge. Then again, she was loyal to Gabe. Perhaps she still is.”

  “But I never told her about Gabe.” The logic gave Eden pause. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  Az paced beside them. “First Kristen and now Jarrod? That’s a bit of a stretch to not be linked.”

  “You’ve both had a rough night. Look, head home. Take care of her.” Madeline’s lack of a direct answer drew a frown from Az. “I’ll find Jarrod and have him back to you by morning.”

  Eden grabbed Madeline’s arm before she turned away. “Wait. There’s something you should know.” Her eyes flashed to Az. “I haven’t been killing the Siders. I used to.” She forced the words out. “Because Gabe’s Fallen, my Siders go Downstairs when I kill them. I stopped. That’s why I haven’t wanted … that’s why I can’t kill Vau—”

  “Too late.” Madeline smiled at Eden’s dropped jaw. “I want him dead, and you agreed to make him that way in exchange for a search party. Don’t worry; now that we’re friends, I’ll put some effort into looking.”

  A sudden pain hit her hard, caught her unprepared, and Eden groaned. Az caught her arm.

  “You all right?” he asked. She tightened her lips into a grimace and nodded.

  “Get her home, Az.” Madeline gave her a pointed look and then took off down the street at a clip.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jarrod’s arm stretched across Sullivan’s side of the bed, like she’d just slipped out from underneath it. He wondered what time it was. One, two in the morning? He heard a whispered curse, and then a shuffle in the blackness of the room. He sat up.

  “… can’t do this. Shouldn’t have…” Sullivan’s voice trailed off.

  The metal of the chain lock clinked as it slid slowly, carefully, like she hoped to slip away without waking him up.

  “Sullivan?” he called.

  She cracked the door open, and he shaded his eyes in the light streaming in from the hall. She looked back. Her cheeks shone with tears, eyes glistening. She sucked a wet breath.

  And then she ran.

  He threw off the covers as the door closed behind her and cut off the light. His fingers searched the floor blindly for his pants. He struggled into them.

  “Shit,” he hissed, forgetting about the rest of his clothes, stopping to yank on his shoes only because he stumbled over them. It was the Touch. He’d dosed her and he’d fallen asleep and now it had gone sour in her mind. He yanked the door open as another farther down the hall clanked shut.

  He knew where he had to start looking. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck. He walked to the door for the stairwell.

  There’s a fifty-fifty shot that there’s no roof access, he thought. He had to push himself to open the door. Another fifty-fifty that I’m wrong and she’s not up there at all.

  Floors above him he heard the same clank and click of a shutting door.

  “Son of a bitch.” He took the stairs two at a time, flight after flight. Sullivan was on the roof. And he was going to go get her
.

  He made it to the top.

  For a long moment, he stared. The tiny plaque on the door read ROOF ACCESS.

  When he pushed it, the door stuck, and for a grateful second he thought it was locked, that he was wrong and she wasn’t out there. But then it squealed, metal to metal, and shimmied its way open. He didn’t give himself time to think—knew if he did he’d never make it—charged ahead until he hit the second door, the one that would open to the roof. This one didn’t have a handle, only a push bar. He hit it and was out on the roof before his brain could catch up.

  Roof. Terror. Pain. The blast of panic slammed into him. Jarrod grabbed the doorframe, fought with everything he had to keep his eyes open and managed to look up. His fingers clutched the frosted metal, lungs doing their best to suck in the frozen air.

  “Sullivan.” His voice cracked. She sat all the way at the edge, her legs dangling over. She twisted toward him. He held out a hand, his adrenaline surging. “Careful!”

  She went back to gazing at the city she faced, the buildings black shadows with illuminated windows.

  “Sullivan, what are you doing? Come away from the edge. Come in and talk to me, okay?”

  “I don’t feel much like talking right now.” Her head dropped, and Jarrod gasped.

  “Okay, please, come inside.” He stepped forward, hand still glued to the doorframe like his arm was a lifeline. Let go, he commanded, but the fingers didn’t budge. He yanked loose with a yelp.

  Black spots tunneled the outside of his vision. I’m going to pass out. The thought sent a fresh rush of panic down his spine. Sullivan tilted her head enough to look at him.

  “You shouldn’t be out here, Jarrod.” Her voice was flat, cold. He didn’t know what to say, how to get her inside. She kicked her feet against the building like a kid on a swing. Jarrod managed a foot closer, sliding slowly, an inch at a time. “You don’t even look like you want to be here. Go back inside.”

  “I don’t want to be here.” She looked back at him when he said it. “Not going to lie, I’m totally shitting bricks right now.” He kept his eyes on her, distracting himself from his feet, which, against every fiber of his being, took him closer to the edge. “I’m afraid of heights.”