He pressed her hand between his palms and rubbed. She could barely feel his touch, let alone any heat he generated. Her feet were numb in her heels, soaked with slush. She slipped her hand out of his without responding. They walked in silence, her heels crunching the salt scattered on the sidewalk.
Luke’s coat dropped over her shoulders. She looked up, surprised. “Put it on,” he said.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves. The thick leather wasn’t the best for warmth, but it cut the wind. Luke’s scent of spices filled her head.
As they walked the last feet to his apartment building, she watched him beside her. “There have to be others who survived. I need to go back.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring into the shadows of an alley. His head dipped.
“Luke?” She shivered. “What is it?”
A shadow behind the Dumpster lengthened up the wall. It broke off and skittered up to the gutter, slipping onto the roof. It was followed by a dozen more. Kristen stumbled backward. “What the hell?”
“I’ve sent them to check. Don’t expect much.”
The shadows were his . . . minions or demons. Dark things. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t.” He reached for her, but only to dig into the pocket of the coat for his keys.
She didn’t look at him as he pulled his hand out. “No,” she said. “Thank you for getting me out.”
Don’t thank him. He let the others be annihilated, she thought.
I’m only here because of him, her consciousness warred.
Don’t be stupid. He must have something to gain. You’re a toy to him.
She started to shake her head but caught herself. Hold it together.
When they got up to his apartment, the usual draft of the penthouse had been banished, the heaters raging. Luke ran a hand through his wet curls and shook off the last of the snow melting into them.
“Stay here.” He headed down the hall to his bedroom without looking back.
She reached down, clawed open the straps holding on her shoes and kicked them off. Stumbling toward the couch, she stripped the blanket off the back of it. A violent shiver made her teeth chatter.
They’re gone. She dropped her head into her palms. She thought of the boy on her lawn, the desperate backward crawling. The crack of his bones. Somewhere in the house, the Bound had found Sebastian. A silent sob racked through her, then another as she felt herself finally breaking. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth to keep everything inside. It wasn’t until she heard the creak of the bedroom door a few minutes later that she reined herself in again.
Behind her, Luke cleared his throat. “You need to get out of that dress. It’s soaked.”
She sniffed hard and nodded but kept her head down and her face hidden.
“Here.” He reached over her shoulder and handed her a thin sweater and a pair of leggings. “I’d bought these for you before you left.”
She stood and turned. He’d changed into charcoal grey sweatpants and a matching thermal top. It struck her how normal he could look when he wished, how human.
“May I use your phone?” she asked.
He strolled to the island separating the living room from the kitchen and picked up the cell from the counter. “To call whom? I doubt many escaped, Kristen.”
“Sebastian,” she admitted. “I need to try.”
He tapped the screen and held it out to her. When she reached for it, he pulled it away at the last second. Her anger seemed to amuse him, though he hid it well. “Tell me why you left Aerie,” he said.
Kristen hit him with a level glare. “Tell me who told you about the ball. Was it really a Sider, or did Gabriel send you to get me out? Did he know what was going to happen?”
“That,” he said, “is not something I’m willing to share. Why did you leave Aerie?”
“I am not having this conversation with you, Luke.”
The grin spread. “You are if you want to make any calls.”
She didn’t have time for his games. Nor for sugarcoating and tiptoeing.
“Because you’re a liar.” Crossing her arms, she kept her face blank, gave him nothing. The material of her ruined gown pressed against her skin and sent a chill through her. “The dresses you bought me? The books? The look in your goddamned eyes and that pathetic seduction attempt. Every moment I spent here was manipulated. Twisted. You saned me up just enough to force your own delusions down my throat.” She held her hand out. “Now give me the phone.”
Luke closed the space between them. She froze, her hand pressed against his chest. “Forced?” he growled. His forehead knocked against hers. “Now who’s the liar?”
She was dimly aware of her mouth opening and closing, a truth she shouldn’t voice trapped there. This is everything you wanted, Luke said in her memory of that night.
Luke pressed the phone into her palm as he pulled away. It wasn’t until he’d stalked off down the hall that she let out the breath she’d been holding. “Glad to be back,” she mumbled to the closed bedroom door.
Just as her thumb lowered to enter Sebastian’s number, the phone vibrated in her hand with an incoming call. Instead of a number or name, a set of symbols popped up on the screen. Code. For who?
She accepted the call.
“Hello?” the person on the other end said hesitantly. “Luke?”
She would have recognized the voice anywhere, almost said his name in reflex.
Gabriel. Her heart drummed, but Luke’s door stayed closed. He told Luke to get me out, she thought. And now he’s checking on us.
“Are you there?” he said.
“You knew,” she cried, her voice breaking. “How could you?”
Luke’s door opened. Before Gabe had a chance to say anything, she thrust the phone at Luke. “It’s for you,” she sneered.
He ripped the phone from her hand and glanced at the screen.
“You made it out?” Then his grip tightened, disgust and anger flooding his face. “What do you think happened, Gabriel? The Bound laid them to waste. Why do you have Madeline’s phone?” Luke’s brow pinched as he turned away. “Obviously.” A sudden humorless laugh burst out of him. “Of all the things I never expected to hear from you…. Tell her yourself if you’re serious. She thinks I’m a liar.”
He passed her the phone without so much as a glance and wandered into the kitchen. Shaking, she raised the speaker to her ear. In the other room, Luke pulled down a box of hot chocolate and set about making two cups.
She didn’t want to hear Gabe’s voice again, wasn’t sure she could bear it. Part of her wanted to hang up. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Kristen? You really are safe?” The relief at hearing her seemed to take his breath away, though she couldn’t bring herself to answer him. When he spoke again, his words were hard. “Listen to me. I want you to stay with Luke. Hide from the Bound as long as you can, okay?”
At the sink, Luke filled two cups and put them in the microwave, his casual indifference masquerading as privacy.
“I can’t think of any place I’d rather be,” she said, her voice trembling. “Now that my house is gone. And nearly everyone I know was slaughtered.”
She heard Gabe swallow. “Were you there?” he asked. “When it happened?”
“Of course I was! Luke…” she said. Her eyes stung. He was there, she wanted to say. He was there again when you weren’t.
“I thought you were dead. After Madeline, I was so sure I would find you next.”
Kristen stilled. “What do you mean, after Madeline?”
“Her body. On the back stairs. Her ribs were . . . I couldn’t save her. I found her phone.”
“Madeline’s gone?” The strength ran out of her legs. She slumped to the floor.
Luke took a step toward her but caught himself.
“I thought you knew,” Gabe said. He sounded broken. “I was too late to stop—”
She threw the phone against the door with all her m
ight. It shattered into pieces, skittered back across the floor to where she sat silent and shivering.
When Luke made his way to her side, she didn’t look up. He lowered himself carefully to his knees, set a cup of steaming cocoa down in front of her. When she didn’t react, he picked up the mug and wound her fingers around it. They ached with the heat. Luke kept his hands over hers.
“I’ll make him suffer if you ask,” he said quietly.
She thought of Gabriel, how he’d found her in the chapel years ago. His loyalty and friendship had been the only things that kept her going. When he’d Fallen, she’d thought he’d abandoned her out of anger and cursed his name. But she’d been wrong then. Could Gabriel really have done this? she wondered.
Luke scooted closer and traced a finger down Kristen’s cheek. “When you begged for Gabriel back without saying a word, he was my gift to you. I can make him go away if you’d like. Things can be as they were.”
Fury coursed through her veins. “A gift?” When she tried pulling away, Luke grabbed her wrist. Cocoa sloshed over the rim of her cup. “You wanted him Bound for your benefit. Don’t try to spin this.”
Luke was near enough that his breath lent a bit of warmth to her cold lips. “And you used me to get well.”
“So what is it this time?” she asked. “What happens when I’m of no use to you?”
“I imagine the same thing that happened to me when Gabriel came for you.”
I left him, she thought. As soon as Gabriel was back, I just walked away. Tentative, she tilted her head just enough to rest against Luke. “And if I say I should have stayed?” she asked.
He jolted suddenly, his shoulder cracking against her chin.
“What’s–” she started, but a knock interrupted her.
“Go change,” he demanded. “Now.” He was already making his way to the door. He turned back to her, a finger raised for silence before he jabbed it toward his bedroom.
She raced down the hall on tiptoes and through the bedroom door. Just before it slammed, she splayed her fingers against the jamb, blocked it from closing. She pressed to the crack, gritting her teeth against the sting in her hand.
Luke had opened the door a few inches and then slid his boot up against it, double security for the thick chain lock. “. . .were supposed to report back, not bring me remains,” Luke was saying. She heard his soft curse at whoever was outside. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, is he alive?”
She bit her lip. Whoever was outside had brought a Sider. Kristen was sure of it.
The hinges creaked as her weight shifted, and Luke’s hand shot out behind him. She froze. He held up a single finger to keep her from moving. No other part of him acknowledged her in any way. For a few moments, his voice dropped too low for her to hear. “Take two others with you and go,” he said to the visitor through the three-inch gap. “Let me know who you see there.”
A muffled reply.
Satisfied, Luke closed the door and engaged the dead bolt. His other arm was still cocked back toward her, the finger held up. For a long moment he only stood, silent. Finally, he relaxed his stance. “You can come out,” he said, motioning to her as he took a seat on one of the bar stools.
“Where’s the Sider? Is he hurt?” she asked, rushing toward the door.
Luke grabbed her as she passed. “It wasn’t Sebastian.”
“You say that like he’s the only one who matters.” She dug in with her bare heels, straining against his grip. It was then that she noticed the strange smell. Wet smolder. “Let me go! I can dose him! Help him heal!”
“There’s no one out there anymore, Kristen.”
She stopped fighting.
“That Sider was burned terribly and suffering.” He met her eyes at the hurt sound that broke from her. “My demons took him away before you even made it out of the room.”
“Took him where?” she asked.
“To Eden. He’ll be out of his misery in minutes if she has an ounce of compassion in her.” Luke ran his fingertip around the rim of her abandoned mug.
The piece of mercy wasn’t like him. She didn’t trust it. “Why would you do that?”
“Eden’s Siders are still poisoning Upstairs. With the Bound so busy down here, maybe he’ll slip through, take out a few souls before they catch him.”
She dropped back onto the chair. The night had been too much.
“Madeline’s really dead?” she asked.
Luke nodded.
“Maybe you should have saved her, instead,” she said, struggling to hide how distraught she was. “After all, she was loyal to you. Feeding you information. Why save me and not her, Luke?”
He went back to the mug, circling the rim. “Because you were enough,” he said. “And what I wanted.”
She watched his finger, the slow, calculated turn. Whatever plot Luke had set into motion, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe she was the endgame.
Chapter 20
By the time they’d gotten back to the apartment, the fog in Jarrod’s head had dulled. Sullivan still helped him up the four flights of stairs. When Az opened the door, Jarrod plowed past him.
“Eden!” he yelled. He turned to Az, shaking with fury. “Where is she?”
“Bedroom,” Az said, already making his way there. “We got lucky. There was a kid waiting on the stairs. She’s still rough, though.”
“And now she’s weak and in a place the Bound know. We need to leave. It’s not safe,” he said.
“Nowhere is safe,” Az shot back.
“You don’t get to just whisk in here and fuck everything up.” Jarrod strode forward, but Az didn’t back down.
“I got her out of danger,” Az said. “I brought her here. Where were you when Eden and Sullivan were getting the shit beat out of them?”
“Screw you,” Jarrod spat, inching closer. I can take him, Jarrod thought. Adrenaline pumped through him, all the helpless rage he’d felt. Just as he started to clench his hands into fists, fingers entwined with his. He looked at Sullivan in surprise.
“Please,” she said quietly. “This doesn’t help anything. Az didn’t do anything wrong.”
Az stepped back, his voice careful and apologetic. “She wouldn’t be able to kill any Siders if she stopped breathing, right? I was worried she wouldn’t make it.”
Jarrod shifted from foot to foot, knowing Az was right. “At least agree with me that we need to get out of here,” Jarrod said.
Az crossed his arms. “Look around the apartment. Is anything different? Out of place? A door open that you know you shut. Anything.”
Jarrod glanced around. They’d left in a rush, but everything looked the same. “Not that I can see,” he answered.
“I don’t think the Bound have been here,” Az said. “Which means they can’t get in without using the door.” He turned toward Eden in the bedroom, his back bare, his wings tucked tight into two hollows on either side of his spine. “Just give her a little time.”
“But Gabe can get in,” Sullivan said. “He said we had to leave.”
Az looked at her over his shoulder, his irises ringed red. “The Bound just massacred his friends. I wouldn’t exactly be worried about Gabe right now.”
The faint sound of Eden calling took Az into the bedroom.
Dropping into the armchair, Sullivan picked up the remote and turned on the television.
“What’re you doing?” Jarrod asked.
“I want to see what they say.” After flicking through a few channels, Sullivan stopped on the news. On the television, the reporter’s face was grim beneath the fur lining of her hood. The pillars of Kristen’s porch gleamed white against the blackened house in the background.
Half of the second floor was entirely gone.
Jarrod sunk onto the arm of the couch. “Oh my God,” he whispered.
“Neighbors have stated a party was taking place at the time of the fire, Tom, and police are still searching,” the reporter went on, turning to give the camera an opportunity to get a dram
atic sweep of the steaming wreckage, “but as of this time no bodies have been found.”
“Fire’s the perfect cover for a hell of a lot of ashes,” Jarrod mumbled. She clicked over to the next channel. Another news crew, this one on the other side of the lawn. “. . . are now saying one body, that of a young woman, was found near a back entrance at the property. Police have stated the cause of death is being investigated but is not—again, is not—believed to be related to the fire.”
In the armchair, Sullivan snapped to attention. “What’s that mean? How could they find someone?”
Jarrod dropped his head, drove his forehead against the heels of his palms. “Does it matter?” he burst out, throwing down his hands. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here! The Bound hit Milton’s. They hit Kristen’s. We have to get Eden and leave before—”
The loud buzz of the intercom cut him off. Sullivan jumped out of the chair. Another buzz droned.
Eden’s bedroom door opened. Az stood on the threshold. Jarrod took a hesitant step toward the intercom and then broke for it. “Who is it?” he yelled into the box.
Instead of a voice, there was a series of clicks.
“Oh God, it’s the Bound,” Sullivan whispered.
Jarrod hit the intercom again. “Who the fuck is this?”
The clicks sounded. Tickticktick—a pause—and then three long shudders, almost as if someone scratched over the slots of the speaker —tickticktick.
“Code.” Eden’s rasp barely made it out of the room. “Morse code.”
Sullivan ripped her coat from the hook beside the door and grabbed for the knob, but Jarrod blocked her.
“No.”
She stared up at him. “Eden’s right. Three short, three long, three short. It’s SOS. Someone’s hurt, Jarrod!”
“You’re ready to just rush out there?” he asked. “You don’t think it could be a trap? That never crossed your mind?”
She met Jarrod’s glare. “And if it’s not?”
Az had come back into the living room. “Then it’s a Sider. One more, and Eden will be strong enough to move. Maybe there are two.”
When Jarrod glanced over at him, Az’s eyes flicked pointedly to Sullivan. Jarrod turned just in time to see her rubbing her palm. He grabbed her wrist, saw the black on her fingertips.
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