She didn’t look more than eighteen. Her hair was done up in a delicate plait, surrounding her head in a thick, dark halo. On her hands she wore silk gloves, their color a perfect match to her tailored gray pants and blouse. Everything about her screamed money, sophistication.
He took the steps one at a time, never taking his eyes off the girl.
“Hello, Erin,” she said, her voice clipped. “You’ve brought a friend.”
Something about her voice was so familiar.
“I know you, don’t I?” Gabe said before he could stop himself. He racked his brain to place her but only came up with a memory of lightning striking in the distance. “But how?”
Was it something from when he was Fallen? Nervousness skittered through him. Had she been with Madeline? He barely remembered that time—only snapshots of the forbidden things he’d done in back hallways of clubs, glances cast over his shoulder at the mortals he left behind when Madeline found him and guided him back to the strobe lights of the dance floor.
These are not memories you want to think about. Gabriel shook his head to rattle them away before what came to the surface was worse. Leave the darkness behind you.
He held out a hand. “I’m—”
“Gabriel,” she said, ignoring the hand he offered. Her voice was stilted. “I’m very curious to know what brings you to my home.”
Erin stepped in front of him. “Annalise, please. It’s important. He’s one of the good—”
“Don’t be naïve, Erin. None of them is good.” She took a step back inside. “Go away, and don’t bother coming back because I won’t be here,” she said, grabbing for the knob and starting to close the door. “I’ll let Madeline know where we are. Eventually.”
Erin jammed her foot into the frame. Gabe’s heart sank. This girl didn’t know about Kristen’s, about the extermination.
“It’s a war, Annalise,” Erin said.
“So you brought it to my doorstep?” Annalise let go of the door and leaned close to Erin. “If you say pretty please, I’m sure your good friend here will tell the Bound to play nice.” She turned her nose up at Gabe. “After all, they’re known for being compassionate,” she spat.
“Madeline’s gone!” Erin blurted. “She’s dead. The Bound know how to destroy us. Permanently.” She stepped back into Gabe, as if needing him to hold her up. He could feel her trembling. “They attacked us last night at a ball. They obliterated us. You have to help Gabriel. He’s the only one on our side.”
Annalise paled. “Madeline’s…gone? Everyone is…?”
Gabe tried to catch her thoughts, but the cacophony was an indecipherable mix of colors and memories, fragments of words. She’s hiding what she’s thinking. Alarm bells sounded in his head. She shouldn’t have known how to do that.
“Who are you?” Gabe demanded. He moved closer, but then a guy’s voice called out from inside the house.
“Annie?”
Gabe heard the thud of footsteps clomping down an unseen staircase.
“What’s going on?”
The door yanked back, and behind Annalise stood a guy who could have been Az’s brother. The curly brown hair, the blue eyes. The high cheekbones. Gabe stared as the guy took them all in, lingering on Annalise. Finally, he nodded to Erin.
“Long time no see,” he said to her cautiously. He held out a gloved hand to Gabe. “And you are?”
“Very confused,” Gabe managed.
The guy looked at Annalise, rigid beside him, then past Gabe and Erin to scan up and down the street. “Well,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, “it’s freezing. Can you be very confused inside?”
“Good idea,” Gabe said. Focusing on the guy’s thoughts, Gabe picked up nothing unusual: worry about what Gabe and Erin’s presence meant, the calm he was trying to push to Annalise, an ache to spread Touch. He may have looked like Az, but this was a Sider.
Annalise flinched as Gabe brushed by her. There was no chance he was leaving without answers. “I’m sorry,” he heard Erin whisper behind him.
Inside the house, gorgeous wood trim lined the hall and wound up a spiral staircase. The guy opened a set of carved pocket doors leading into an elegantly furnished living room. “I’m Donavan,” he said, and gestured to an overstuffed couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Annalise reached for Donavan as he started to sink onto a love seat. “This is just Sider drama. You don’t have to stay.”
Through the static of Annalise’s thoughts, a dram of panic oozed out.
“I don’t know what was going on outside, but it looked a little more serious than that.” Donavan sat and pulled her down with him. “So what did I miss?” he asked.
“There’s something both of us are missing, apparently. Now sit. Talk,” Gabe said. “Who are you?”
When no one said anything, Erin spoke up from beside him. “Donavan ran Staten Island before Vaughn.”
Annalise gave her a look that swore murder.
Donavan took Annalise’s hand almost unconsciously. “Right, but Annalise is here, and the commute is killer. So I opted out. Did something happen to Vaughn?”
Gabe saw Annalise’s hand clench Donavan’s.
Donavan glanced at her and then back to Gabe. “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”
Annalise’s tone was resigned. “Gabriel’s not a Sider. He’s Bound.”
Fear crept onto Donavan’s face, and Gabe’s frustration boiled over.
“I’m not like them!” he yelled. “They slaughtered everyone at Kristen’s and burned their souls. I am trying to help you!” He stood there shaking as the others watched him in a stunned, nervous silence. “There’s still time,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m trying to find out how the Siders started. If I can trace it back, if I can find a way to fix your paths, or—” He shook his head, at a loss as to where to start, what to ask first.
Erin’s voice was quiet. “Were you the first Sider, Annalise?” The other girl bit her lip, but Erin went on. “Please. He really is trying to help us.”
“That I know of, yes,” Annalise said simply.
For a long moment, no one said anything. Donavan raised his and Annalise’s clasped hands and pressed her fingers to his lips.
“Listen,” Gabe said, no longer pulling punches. “You know how to hide your thoughts, which takes at least some sort of practice. And I recognize you. Was it an angel? Did we cause this somehow?”
“You and I met once, in passing,” she answered.
Blue black storm clouds fought their way up from Gabe’s subconscious. Annalise above him, her arms held out for balance. “Where?” Gabe asked. “When?”
Donavan, too, seemed bewildered.
Is that why she’s fighting this? Gabe thought. He doesn’t know how she became a Sider, either. She doesn’t want him to.
Gabe watched Annalise, her face pinched with whatever memories tormented her.
“Promise me you won’t kill us,” she whispered. She looked up at Gabe. “And if you can’t, promise me you won’t kill Donavan. Say it.”
Beside Annalise, Donavan’s eyebrows drew together.
“I promise I will not harm you or Donavan,” Gabe said without hesitation. A week ago he would have worried that the words would bring a punishment. Now, he was surprised to find how little he cared. I’m seeing this through. “How did you become a Sider?”
She swiveled to Gabe as if daring him to act. “I’m a Sider because of you, Gabriel,” she said, heat behind the words. “Without you, none of this would have happened.”
Chapter 24
At the door of his apartment, Luke tangled a lock of Kristen’s hair around his finger. “You know,” he said slowly. “Gabriel can’t guarantee your safety. Or your sanity.”
“Oh, darling, such sweet things you say.” The sarcasm covered the sting she felt at his words. She wrapped a cashmere scarf around her neck. “Afraid once I head out into the big bad world I’ll realize what a mistake I’ve made choosing you? Maybe make a
run for it while I can?”
“Maybe.” He gave the lock of hair a sharp tug and then tucked it behind her ear. “I’m not sure what your word is worth.” She didn’t know whether his smug smile was meant to set her at ease or infuriate her.
The thick jacket she had was nothing she would have chosen herself, not a style the Bound would expect her to wear. It smelled like Luke. The scent enveloped her, stealing deeper inside. Her body hummed, parts of her still aching from his passion.
She took a breath before giving him an indulgent look. “You’re not going to have me followed by those minions or whatever I saw last night?” she asked. In the light of day, the not-shadows seemed improbable. Luke’s expression went whimsical, his voice dropping low.
“They’ve always been with you, Kristen. They’ll obey you if you call to them, though they can’t hold form around the Bound,” he said, spreading his hands out at his sides. He curled his fingers slightly as if in invitation, fixated on a spot just over her shoulder. “It’d drive a weaker girl mad to know how close they are. To see how easily they whisper to you from their dark corners. Once you hear them, it’s hard not to listen.”
Kristen fought the urge to turn. “You think I’d fall for that? There’s nothing there,” she snapped too quickly. Luke twitched just enough to let her know he’d picked up on her bravado. For a split second, she thought she felt a sigh against her skin. Behind her, a floorboard gave the slightest creak.
A corner of his mouth tweaked up in a grin. “I’ll tell them to keep their distance,” he said as he stepped aside so she could open the door.
“The Bound will pay for what they’ve done,” she said. For a long moment, she only stared into Luke’s eyes. “'For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,/Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.’” She kissed him, as close to his lips as she dared, but he didn’t flinch. “'My love,” she whispered, “is a fever.’”
Despite the layers she wore against the cold, Kristen felt exposed. Standing alone on a Queens street corner, she had every reason to be afraid, but fear had nothing to do with the tremors that battered her insides. Her skin was raw and roughed over from Luke’s kisses, her cheeks blush burned. Already she felt the absence of him.
Her nearly knee-high boots crunched ice and salt, the left one tight and aching on her calf. Luke had promised other weapons like the one she carried tucked in that boot. He would only give them to her one at a time. They were precious, rare. This one would be given to Jackson.
She had never thought to memorize his number, but he hadn’t been at the ball, so she was hedging her bets that he was alive, staying out of sight in Madeline’s home.
What was she going to say to him? Her ball had laid the Siders out on a platter.
Kristen shook her head, thrusting the guilt away. Today, she’d right her wrongs. Help Jackson and anyone else who was left. If Kristen had been the one dead, Madeline would have done the same for her.
Kristen scanned the street for threats. Bells rung as Salvation Army workers collected change in front of stores. The clouded, heavy skies were a portent of snow to come.
She turned at the small bodega on the corner and headed up the street. Every few minutes, she glanced behind to be sure she wasn’t being followed. She circled around back of the nondescript, run-down house and lifted a cracked flowerpot. The dead plant rattled as she set it aside. Underneath was the spare key. She slipped it into the door and opened it.
“Hello?” she called out softly, her hand still on the knob.
No one answered. Two stairs led up to a kitchen. There was food on the counter, none of it spoiled, as if someone had made a late breakfast and then disappeared without cleaning it up. The cupboards were open, paint peeling from them.
“Jackson?” Kristen yelled.
She imagined Madeline bounding around the corner, half expected her, but no one came. Kristen passed into the hall, up the stairs. Every crack and creak echoed through the emptiness. A shirt hung, looped around the rails of the banister. Another lay discarded in the hall. She froze, listening.
Silence, save for a ticking clock, the wind groaning outside. The door to every room lining the hall was open. She gave each one a cursory glance, padding quietly on. Most of the rooms were untouched. A very few were ravaged, dresser drawers hanging askew, clothes ripped half off hangers and then abandoned. The floors were hardwood; any ashes should have been easy to spot, but there were none. Jackson must have taken whoever was left and run. Which would explain why most of the rooms were perfect. They had belonged to Siders who died at the ball.
“Jackson!” she yelled louder. “Anyone?”
When she got to the last room, there was something on the scuffed-up floorboards. She swallowed hard and cast a glance back at the stairs before she took a step forward. Her face wrinkled in disgust. Vomit. Old and dried.
“What the hell went on here?” she whispered.
Madeline’s house might have been run down, parts of it falling apart, but she wasn’t the type to leave something like this. The puddle had been there long enough to crack and split as it dried.
A knock sounded at the front door. Kristen pressed herself against the wall, frozen. Jackson had clearly left in a hurry; what if they’d gone because they knew the Bound were headed to Madeline’s next? The knock came again, louder and more insistent. Relax, she commanded herself. The Bound wouldn’t exactly be knocking.
The knob squeaked as it turned.
“Hey, it’s open.” Eden’s voice.
Dizzy relief spilled over Kristen, a second ahead of frustration. As long as Eden was around, Siders would be dying. But Eden would fight against the Bound. With everyone else dead, Kristen wondered if it was time to rethink her position.
“It looks like he’s already gone,” said a second voice. Male.
My God, she thought. That can’t be Az? One set of footsteps, then another, crossed into the living room below.
“Coast clear?” And Jarrod. The whole crew. Which meant she was outnumbered three to one. There was a whisper of nylon, coat sleeves brushing against each other. “Come on,” he added a second later, his tone softer.
Who else is with them? Kristen eased backward into one of the rooms and tucked herself into the wedge between the wall and door.
The voices were less distinct, but she could still hear them milling about down there. Go away, she thought desperately, but the fates were not in her favor. The quartet went back the way she’d come in, to the kitchen. A moment later, there were murmurs at the base of the stairs.
Eden sounded angry. “We’re checking everywhere. Even if they’re not here, maybe they left some clue where they were going, or what Jackson was talking about.”
Kristen held her breath, torn between hoping Eden would go on about whatever Jackson had said and praying she’d leave. She got neither. Four sets of shoes clomped up the stairs.
“You and Sullivan take that side,” Eden commanded.
Who is Sullivan?
Squeaking hinges marked their progress. They closed the doors as they searched room by room, minute by minute.
“Clear,” she heard Jarrod yell from across the hall.
In her hiding spot, Kristen swallowed hard. Everything had gone absolutely wrong. If they discovered her now, Eden would never trust her. All that was left was pleading mercy if she was found.
“Should we just stay here?” Az asked.
A shadow darkened the floor. “I don’t know,” Eden said slowly, stepping into the room Kristen hid in.
Go away, Kristen thought. The floorboards creaked as Eden moved further in. Kristen cleared her mind, readying herself for what she was about to do. Nothing a little acting can’t fix, she thought.
Kristen shoved the door hard, then slammed the lock. Whipping around, she faced Eden. “Don’t scream, it’s me!” she pleaded.
Eden stood, arms spread and ready to fight.
Kristen amped up her false terror. “Please,” she whispered. “Y
ou have to help me. Tell Az and Jarrod not to hurt me!”
A bang rattled the door against her back. Kristen held her hands up.
“Eden?” Az yelled from the other side. “What’s going on? Open the door!”
“Kristen’s in here! She’s locked the door.” Eden stared at her, desperate and full of fear.
Someone kicked hard enough to rattle the door in its frame.
“What do you want?” Eden demanded.
Kristen let her bottom lip quiver for just a fraction of a second. “I…” She counted off two seconds of hesitation. “I had nowhere else to go.”
To her surprise, Eden looked unaffected by the show of emotion.
So help me, if I have to give her tears, I’d rather just kill her, Kristen thought bitterly.
“Save it. You were with Luke last night,” Eden said.
Kristen didn’t flinch. “And you were with Gabriel?” she guessed.
“Hey!” Az yelled, pounding hard. “Open the door or we’re kicking it down!” A heavy boot rattled the door.
Kristen dropped the hysterics. “I’m sick of playing games, Eden. Yes, I’m with Luke,” she said.
Eden blinked once, enough to let Kristen know how well the act had worked.
“Look, I know we’ve had our differences. But we trusted each other once. Enough that I helped you get Az back, and you tried to help me get myself back.” Kristen jumped as the boys kicked the door again.
“Madeline said you want me gone.” Eden was beyond pale, her cheeks almost gray in the winter light stealing in through the window. “You left me out of any plans. You left us to fight alone!” Eden said, real pain in her voice.
Kristen softened. “I had to. Things have changed, though,” she said, coming to a decision. “You’d have been done for if I’d invited you to that ball. Let bygones be that. Fight the Bound with me.” Another kick to the door. “Impatient, aren’t they?” she said as the lock finally splintered. She darted out of the way just as Az burst through.
“Get away from her,” he growled. “Now.”
The Siders Box Set Page 62
