A Touch Morbid (14 page)

“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.

J
arrod’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 R
OOF
A
CCESS
.

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.”

Running her fingers along the edge of the roof, she scraped up a handful of pebbles, a few loose nuggets of tar paper. She tossed them over, one by one.

“You said you were sure.” He took another step forward, wiped his palms on his jeans. “You said you were okay.” Her shoulders twitched, but Sullivan didn’t answer. “I thought you wanted—”

“I did. What better way to go out, right?” He stayed to the left, finally got close enough to get a look at her face. She wasn’t smiling or crying anymore. Nothing. Simply staring off into space, throwing those tiny rocks over.

“Sullivan, this is just the Touch. You know that, right? All you have to do is reach back and grab my hand. We’ll get through it, and it’ll be over soon.”

“Over soon,” she repeated, her eyes glazed and far off. A chill crept across his neck. Her fingers dropped to the metal lip running around the edge of the roof, gripping it tight. “Or we could get it over now.”

He took a rush of six or seven steps until he was within ten feet of her. Ten feet to Sullivan. Ten feet to the edge. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t move.

He sunk slowly to the tar, his chest tightening. The smell hit him, chemicals and dirt and blood.
No
. He took a deep breath.
Not blood. That’s over
. He swallowed hard, his mouth so dry his throat felt like sandpaper. Jarrod started to crawl. “Sullivan, talk to me. Look, this is not a road you want to go down.”

She shifted, scraped her feet back over the lip. A draft surged up the side of the building and crested, lifting her hair along with it. She turned toward him, just out of his reach as she stood up. Her eyes were wild. “How would you know?”

“Because I did it,” he yelled. “And it didn’t make anything better. It didn’t solve a fucking thing. I lucked out and I got a second chance. But you won’t, Sullivan.” His voice broke. “You won’t.”

“I can’t go back there.” He could barely hear her. “I can’t let him find me.”

“Back to Vaughn?” he asked carefully, and Sullivan nodded. “Please, take two steps forward. We can talk. I don’t want you to fall.”

Her lips parted, twitched at the corners. “I came up here to jump, Jarrod. You do get that, right?”

“No, I totally got that part. Message received loud and clear.” He sucked a hard breath, rose onto his knees. “It’d be really awesome if you clue me in on the why.”

“Vaughn won’t let me go. I can run and run. He always finds me.” She nodded, almost to herself. “But not this time. This time I have a solid plan.”

“No, you have a shitty plan.” He crawled another two feet. “Very bad plan.”

Everything that should have been solid felt wobbly, but he managed to get one foot underneath him, trying to stand, before he froze again.

“Sullivan, look at me.” He shifted, closing his eyes as he held out his hand, but forcing them open again. He was nowhere near the edge and still he felt like any movement would send him over. “Whatever he did to you… Look, I know we just met, so my promises don’t mean a thing to you, but if you give me a chance, you have my word I’ll help you.” He lowered his voice. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, hardly even touched her lips really. Her laugh lurched out, a humorless, lonely thing. “I let them touch me, Jarrod. I wanted them to.” Her lip quivered. “But they wouldn’t stop.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “They’d sneak up behind me and brush my shoulder. The back of my neck. My face while I was sleeping. Any skin. When they gave me too much… Vaughn… He’d lock me in a room and—”

“You want to quit? Is that it?” Jarrod slid his other foot underneath him, stood, his hands splayed.

Sullivan stared down over the edge. “They wouldn’t stop touching me,” she whispered. “And now I can’t stop wanting more.”

“Sullivan, look at me.” She shook her head as she brought a hand up to her mouth. “That’s over, okay?” Jarrod said. “Eden, she’s my roommate; she can help you quit. She’s badass. You have my word: you’re not going anywhere you don’t want to go.”

“That’s a slippery promise,” she whispered as her gaze slid over her shoulder to the parking lot below. She seemed to teeter, and the dizzy rush of fear exploded through him again.

“There is no reason for you not to come inside with me.”

“What does it matter?” She kicked, sent a spray of detritus scattering into the empty air inches from her. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know!” he yelled. “But until now this has been the best night I’ve had in a long time!” He stalled out, the words falling away.

She shook her head, staring off toward the horizon. “Only because of Touch. I’m fun when I’m on it. Without it I’m no one special.”

“You’re lying,” he said. She turned toward him, a flicker flashing through her eyes at the challenge. “I know this isn’t the time for pickup lines, but if your options are kill yourself or hang out with me, it would be a serious blow to my ego to not get picked.”

She looked down at her feet, up at him.

“One step,” he said. She took it, and he let out a half breath in relief. “One more, Sullivan.”

Her hand hit his. She dropped against him.

Now, with her next to him, everything suddenly hazed over. Like a terrible trick, the adrenaline seemed to drain out of him.

Jarrod licked his lips. “Listen, I know this is incredibly messed up and ironic considering, but I need you to help me. I have to get inside. Now. I’m gonna freak out in, like, five seconds.” A memory slashed through his head. Wind whistling past his ears, the fall, so far, Eden’s face above him getting smaller.

Sullivan’s arm wrapped around him. “Jarrod?”

“Get me off the roof.” He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. “Just get me off the roof.”

She hauled him to the door, grabbed for the handle, and pulled him through. He sucked in a lungful of air, pressing against the wall, sliding down it to the floor, his eyes shut.

“Jarrod?” He heard her fear but couldn’t get his mouth to work to say anything to set her at ease.

“I don’t do roofs.” His voice cracked, and he felt his face grow hot. “I need a second.”

Her fingers ran through his hair, front to back, the motion soothing. He concentrated on the feel of her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her fingers stilling in his hair.

He opened his eyes. She stared at the wall across from them. A muscle near her jaw twitched, a frown digging in, taking hold.