A Touch Mortal (10 page)

“You can’t be
serious
.” Kristen’s expression shifted, the annoyed squint of her brow unraveling into amusement. She stepped out of the doorway with a sweeping gesture. “You’re free to go if you choose.”

Now it was Eden’s turn to falter, all the words she’d planned, the different scenarios she’d played out and…“You can’t trick me, Kristen.” That had to be it. Leaving couldn’t possibly go down so easily.

“It’s nothing of the sort. I kept you here to protect you while you learned enough to survive on your own. Clearly, you can. I consider my promise fulfilled.” Her eyes shot to Adam and back. “Frankly, if you’d spoken to me instead of acting like a rash child, we could have avoided this unpleasantness.” Kristen shook her head.

Eden circled closer to the door, to her bag. “So you mean to tell me I take out half your crew and you’re just gonna let me walk out the front door?”

Kristen’s eyes sparkled, a half smile etching into her cheek. “‘Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’” She smoothed the folds of her dress. “They did not rage. I have no use for the weak. One might say I owe you for using your talents to my advantage.” Her lips turned downward, eyes falling as she tapped with her finger. “I’m not one for gathering debt. Let’s pay it off now, shall we? In advice.”

Kristen leaned to the side, slipped her wrist into one of the backpack straps, and lifted it off the floor. “First, anger should never affect your loyalties. Going to Madeline for help might seem like your best option, but I would discourage this. When she finds out you’re playing house in
Manhattan, she will not be happy.”

“Manhattan? What about Erin?” Adam flinched when Kristen met his eyes.

“Erin and her brood are on vacation.” She turned back to Eden, shot her a wink. “I’ve had a busy morning.”

“What did you do, Kristen?” Adam shifted behind her, moving closer as he spoke. “A dozen Siders don’t just go missing.”

“Really?” Kristen mused. “Because it seems to be quite the popular phenomenon as of late. They did clear out quite quickly.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a dismissive flourish. “Perhaps they went south for the winter. Erin’s always been fickle.”

“You think Madeline’s just gonna accept that? Erin is her best friend. They have an alliance, Kristen.”

“Had. The past tense of which will drive Madeline into a fury.” Kristen fell silent, tapping her free hand against the doorframe. “You should already know the logical move. You need to start thinking like a leader. Thoughts?”

“They kept you in check, didn’t they?” Eden asked. “Madeline and Erin. They were in an alliance. Against you.” Kristen raised an eyebrow, waiting. “So you’d need to break that, but you’d need backup after, to make sure Madeline doesn’t come after you herself.” The last puzzle piece slipped into place. “You want an alliance with me.”

“Bravo.” Kristen dropped the backpack, clapping
softly. “My terms. A truce between you and I, uncontestable as of this moment. If Madeline makes a move against mine, you will come to my aid. You’re the only threat to their eternity. Plus,” Kristen said with a smile, “you’re on my side! Oh, I can’t wait to see how this all plays out.”

“So you’re just gonna blame Eden, then? For Erin?” There was a protective edge to Adam’s voice that hadn’t been there before. Kristen snorted.

“If I know my dear Maddy, she’ll pull her spoiled-brat pout for a bit and move on to a new BFF. Eden here has more pressing threats than Madeline.” She turned to Eden. “Don’t you?” Kristen’s face went solemn. “In exchange, I give you my guarantee Madeline will not be a problem for you, regarding said pressing threats. Your talent is not something
They
will find amusing.”

“If I agree to this alliance thing, you’ll just let us go?” She heard Adam suck in a breath.

“Us?” Kristen asked.

“Adam comes with me, or the deal is off.”

“Agreed. With a talent like yours, you’ll be found eventually. You’re going to need backup.”

“And another thing. You don’t tell…” Eden glanced toward Adam as she reached forward, took the backpack from Kristen.
He doesn’t know about the Bound or the Fallen
, she thought. “You tell no one where I’ve gone, should anyone ask.”

“The city is large enough to get lost in. Keep a low profile and stay off the radar.” She held out a gloved hand. “Are we agreed?”

Eden shook her hand, throwing the backpack over her shoulder. “Where do I go? Once I get to Manhattan?”

“Not my problem.” Kristen shook her head, smiling. “And not something you should want me to know.” She spun on her heel. “You’re nothing but a rumor now.”

(Two Months Late
r)

E
den reached blindly for her phone and shut off her alarm as she crawled out of bed. The curtains covering the window blocked the morning light, but she crossed to the door without turning on the lamp. She’d memorized her room enough to make her way.

The apartment was quiet. Adam slouched on the couch. He glanced up as she entered and nodded hello before lowering the monitor of the laptop balanced on his legs.

“Scoot,” Eden mumbled, still half asleep. He threw himself over a few feet on the beat-up couch, pulling the blanket with him, not even offering a corner. Apparently, mornings weren’t for sharing.

“Asshole.” She ran the zipper up on her hooded sweatshirt and plopped down. “Anybody else up?” she asked, combing the tangles out of her hair with her fingers. The door to the boys’ room was closed. A two-bedroom apartment had been more than enough for just her and Adam.
Then Jarrod and Adam had shared. No one had objected when she’d pulled the girl card and insisted on her own space. Two weeks ago, when they’d added James to the mix, things had moved from crowded to crash pad. The whole hallway smelled like a dorm room.

“You know Jarrod. He’s either up by seven or comatose till noon. James wasn’t moving around yet when I came out here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously, he needs the sleep. Hissy fits burn up a lot of energy.”

“Don’t do that.”

Eden yanked at a chunk of her bangs, separating one of the hot pink highlights. She still wasn’t used to the cut, the strands tapering off near her ears.

“What do you want me to do, just stand by and watch him suffer? He looks like a fucking zombie half the time.” James had passed the easy stage, where Touch only had to be passed once or twice a day. By now, he should have been hitting up at least five. Instead he was being a child. Refusing.

“Look, he’s rough. No denying that. I’m surprised he’s been able to resist spreading it this long. But he’s a kid, Eden. Eventually, he’s gonna break. He’ll start passing, get used to it. He’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like you can force him.”

Eden yanked herself up off the couch and headed for
the door.
What to do with James?
The question plaguing them all week.

“I’ll be back in half an hour. Wake him up and tell him to get his ass ready. He’s passing today.”

She shrugged on her black peacoat as she took the stairs. Peering through the little window beside the security door, she kept herself just out of view. On the stairs of the apartment building, five Siders were already waiting for her, gloved up and a cautious distance apart. To the morning rush of pedestrians, they would have been chalked up as street kids. Eden knew better. A swipe of her fingertips on their skin would drop their façade and show the truth.

Five today. It had never been so many.

“Time to greet the fan club.” Eden sighed as she twisted the knob.

The security door clicked shut behind her. She tucked the key into the pocket of her coat and turned to face them. Their whispers, snippets of “has to be the one” and “right where she was supposed to be,” intensified as they caught sight of her. The Siders began showing up a few days after she and Adam had taken off from Kristen’s, even before they’d managed to scrounge up enough money to get an apartment.

“Where who said I’d be?” she demanded. “Who sent you?” She knew they wouldn’t answer. No one ever did.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” The one who spoke up couldn’t have been more than twelve. “That you breathe death?” He stared at her, taking her in like some kind of urban legend come to life. She didn’t need Touch to tell they were new, all of them.

“Please? You can, right?” His body shook with need. Eden’s anger melted, the last of her resolve faltering as it always did. She could never turn them away. Not when she was the only one who could end their suffering.

“The least you could do is show up
post
coffee,” she suggested. The boy tilted his head. Eden gave up on the sarcasm, holding out a resigned hand. “Do you have it?” she asked, knowing they would. The tattooed one dropped a ball of crumpled bills into her palm. “This for all of you?” He nodded. She didn’t bother to count it. All two hundred and fifty would be there. She hadn’t set the price, though they’d always offered the same amount.

The Siders fell in behind her, following blindly as she led them into the alley. Some mornings she was tempted to do a little sidestep shuffle, a jig maybe, just to see if they’d copy. Today wasn’t one. She wasn’t smiling as she turned to face them.

The youngest led the pack. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Even in the cold, he reeked of desperation. She focused on him, letting the others fade into the background. Her hand hovered near his cheek. She brushed
the sweaty hair from his temples with a black-polished fingernail. Reaching down, she took his hands in hers.

“Stay still, okay?” She meant to reassure him, adding a measure of kindness to her voice, but when he moved to speak, she lowered her red tinted lips to within a millimeter of his mouth, completing the circuit. Her timing was well practiced and perfect.

A sharp exhale propelled her breath into him. Her hands tightened their grip on his. For a span of two heartbeats, she thought it wouldn’t take, that she was free, no longer their only out. But then his eyes spiraled back into his head as her breath did its work. Her palms blazed and itched as his Touch became hers. She closed her eyes and clamped down on her lip as the burning spread up her arms, tingling flames across her collarbones.

One by one, she emptied them of Touch. The bodies fell as empty shells, their power now hers.

A breeze from the next passing taxi, even the vibration from its tires on the asphalt, would scatter what was left of them into nothing.

Eden looked up, shading her eyes from the sunlight. She’d never been able to make anything out after the act, no light, no choir of angels. No hellfire either. If they were really dying, they went in silence without so much as a clue. Though it would have been nice to know what happened to them, being pathless, she knew it wasn’t an
answer likely to come from above. Still, the glance had become habit.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she sighed, pulling a twenty from the roll of bills. She pocketed the rest and headed through the alley, around the corner to Milton’s.

Even if there were no answers, just once she wished one of them would stick around long enough to say thanks.

T
he bell on the coffee shop’s door sounded when she walked through, but the guy behind the counter didn’t look at her. He looked at the clock.

Pulling a tray out from some shelf she couldn’t see, he set it next to the register and handed her a bag. She already knew what it would contain—two dozen packets of Equal, creamers, and a few stir sticks thrown in for good measure. “You’re late today.”

Eden looked up at the clock. Two minutes past eleven.

“I had something,” she said, not bothering to elaborate. “How goes it, Zach?” she asked, squinting as she dropped the bill onto the counter. She rubbed her wrist absently, pain lingering in the joints.

Behind the counter, Zach shrugged. “It goes,” he said. He swiped the money from the counter, entering the numbers into the cash register. As always, his hands
were gloved, the latex enough to keep him from spreading Touch to customers.

“Money tight?” she asked pointedly. She’d offered to put Zach up, have him join them and let her worry about the bills. So far he hadn’t taken her up on the offer.

As usual, he only smiled, replied with the same lines he always did. “I’ll consider it, Eden. No promises, though.”

Other Siders lived in the area too, though they feared her enough to maintain some distance. They’d heard the rumor. If a Sider sought Eden out, it was for one reason. She didn’t mind their nearness, did her best to stay just another face in the crowd.

She sighed. “It’s tight, but we could upgrade to a bigger apartment if you moved in.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” he said, amused.

She’d kept her group small to stay under the radar. Clearly
that
plan was failing. If she needed backup, there was only Jarrod and Adam. The fact was, she needed to start building her numbers. Just because word of her hadn’t gotten to the Fallen didn’t mean it wouldn’t. She’d taken in James out of pity. The kid had been scared and alone. Living on the streets. Zack, however, would be able to handle it if she needed to pass him Touch to get rid of what she took from the other Siders. She slipped an extra ten into the tip jar. Half full of coins and bills, the chipped cup had a new sign taped around it.

Eden angled it away from her as she read. “‘Thanks a latte’? Are you fucking serious?”

Behind the counter, Zach only laughed.

“No way am I claiming that one. New guy. He’s taking over the opening shift on Monday and Thursday. I trained him, so he knows the routine. Told him you were VIP…that Carol-Anne chick’s dark, twisty sister.” He grinned at Eden’s confusion. “Theeeeyyy’re hhhheeeeeeeeeere.” She groaned, trying to kill her smile. “
Poltergeist
!” Zach laughed. “Come on, that’s classic!”

Eden shook her head, balancing the to-go tray in one hand and opening the door with the other, the bag of extras tucked between the cups. “Thanks, Zach. See you tomorrow.”

James wasn’t waiting for her. She didn’t bother taking off her coat as she made her way across the living room.

“One of those for me?” Jarrod didn’t give her enough time to answer before jumping up to take the tray. “Adam! Coffee’s here!” he called toward the kitchen, before fully turning his attention her way. “How many were out there today?”

“Just two,” she lied. Both he and Adam had been worried, wondering how much Touch she could take in before it became too much. So far, aside from the brief pain after,
she’d managed. She’d also gotten better at hiding it when she didn’t.

“Thanks for the coffee.” His face held no expression, his voice monotone.

“If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know.” She’d been dosing Adam and Jarrod, sure she was too potent to pass to the mortals with any chance of them making it through. She held his gaze as she crossed the room, gave the door of the boys’ room a cursory knock.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Jarrod said.

James didn’t notice when the door opened. Eden watched him, crumpled against the tub and drawing a razor blade down the length of his left wrist. Brow furrowed in concentration and pain, his trembling hands only managed to gash a few weak lines down the right. The doorframe creaked when she leaned against it, loud enough that James finally looked up, his expression guilty.

“We’re back to the wrists again?” she asked. A long moment stretched out before he bowed his head, the blade falling from his hand.

“It helps sometimes,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Eden had never heard him sound so tired.

“You can’t kill yourself. It doesn’t work.” She reached into the medicine cabinet, moved aside a few random bottles, and pulled out a roll of gauze.

“I know that. I’m not stupid,” he whispered, defeat in his voice. “But the dark thoughts, they just build, Eden. This makes them stop. It gives me a few hours of feeling okay.” She looked beyond him, to the dozen spots of plaster standing out from the yellow paint.

“Why can’t you just pass, James?” He hid his eyes. She took his hand and turned it over to study the gaping wound, the starburst of scars he’d cut through to open his veins. “This is Touch.” A fresh ribbon of red slid from his wrist and fell to lance an accusatory path across her own. “You can’t not spread it, understand? I’m done playing around.”

James leaned back against the edge of the tub, a pool of red spreading across the tiles as he met her eyes. “I’m not killing them. I can’t do it.”

“If you’d spread it out, you wouldn’t be lethal. And you wouldn’t be bleeding on the fucking tiles.”

She wanted to reach out to him, shake some sense into him. If she could just convince him to pass the Touch, she was sure he’d even out. When he’d moved in with them, he’d been half frozen, near delusional from not passing but too new to be harmful. He’d gotten better, but the last week he’d been apathetic, hardly getting out of bed. She wasn’t sure if it just was the buildup.

“James, if you want me to—”

“No. I don’t want to die. I won’t kill them and I’m
not gonna make you kill me,” he said, his voice full of determination.

Her eyes fell to the dark maroon stain around the base of the sink as she gently wrapped the wounds; the blood from the past cuts had slipped into the crack in the tile there. She’d scrubbed a dozen times, just part of the ordinary regimen of cleaning now, but it hadn’t so much as faded. Eden stayed silent for a moment, watching the gore seeping into his jeans.

“You’re not solving anything, James.” Taping the gauze down, she dropped his hand. He’d stored enough that the wound would heal quickly.

“Clean up,” she added, trying for that cold edge she knew she couldn’t muster. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the blood. “You’re not getting out of going with me.”

Eden shut the door behind her, padding across the tan carpet. She notched the thermostat up another few degrees, lifting her face to the vent as the heater kicked on. Jarrod was still on the couch.

“He’s not cut out for this,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“He’ll be fine. What am I supposed to do? Kick him out? Send him to Kristen? Because he’s too young to survive on his own. He needs us.”

“Eden, he’s had time. The kid’s suffering. Maybe it’s time you put him out of his misery.” She stopped. From the kitchen, the sound of dishes clanking as
Adam made breakfast fell silent as he, too, waited on her response.

“He doesn’t want that,” she said, quickly, tucking a pink lock behind the multiple studs piercing her ear. Beside them, James slammed the bedroom door, cutting off their conversation.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, grabbing his coat off the hook and yanking it on. His blond hair was still tangled with sleep, a rat’s nest of a snarl poking out from the crown. He untied his shoes instead of yanking them on, his wrists barely strong enough to handle the movement.

She headed out the door, satisfied he would follow.

On the sidewalk, she turned toward the cluster of shops down the street, James trailing behind. She was buttoning her coat up the last few inches in a desperate attempt to keep out the cold when he spoke.

“It’s not fair. They’re people, Eden.” When she turned, he stared at her; unmoving. “I’m going home.” He spun back toward the apartment.

She called his bluff, waiting him out. Sure enough, he hesitated, not quite brave enough to act on his words.

He made an effort to meet her gaze. His pale hair lusterless, the skin under his eyes a clouded violet, he looked more than just tired. He looked dead. Or at least not
alive
. Whatever category Siders fell into, today, James looked the part.

“You have to spread Touch.” A rough wind rippled her skirt, whipping it against her legs. She could see the effects of the buildup in his facial expressions, permeating his body language. From how Jarrod and Adam explained, it was horrible—desperation and broken thoughts spinning out of control. Of course, Eden knew little of the feeling, a rare perk of whatever was messed up with her. Not that she’d gotten completely off the hook.

Eden checked her watch. Despite their late start, they were still right on time, coming closer to the corner where they would run into her gift to James.

And then there he was.

Brighton Daniels. Twenty-four years old. No children. Single. Some kind of corporate something or other. Eden shifted their course, following as Brighton took a left, his briefcase swinging by his side.

She’d found the details out easily enough, following him on his commute from work the past three days, listening in on his phone conversations. It was amazing what one could overhear if they only paid attention.

James hadn’t noticed they were shadowing anyone yet.

“See
him
,” she said, giving her chin a jerk in the man’s direction. Ahead of them, Brighton paused at a crosswalk, idly glancing at his watch, waiting for the stick figure to grant him permission to move.
Sheep
, Eden thought, knowing he couldn’t be blamed.

Even as he nodded, James was tucking his hands into his pockets.

“He’s your mark.” She pulled her gloves tighter, straining her fingertips against the fabric. “He got promoted yesterday. Big raise. He’s happy about it, James. Ecstatic.”

Slightly ahead of them, the crosswalk sign cycled from orange to white and Brighton Daniels strode on with confidence. James, on the other hand, didn’t look so good.

“What?” Eden groaned. “I did all the work for you. He’ll probably just go on some kind of celebratory bender. Sure, he’ll be out of control for a bit, but he’ll live through it. Even with a dose your size.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“Trust me.” She started walking again, determined not to let Brighton get away. Another gust of winter air rushed past. She’d given James enough time to make the right choice. “Do it,” she said.

He frowned and she knew he’d gotten the message, the shift from request to order. James swore under his breath. He jogged a few steps, tapped Brighton’s wrist with his fingertip.

“Time?” he asked innocently.

Eden watched the bare skin James had swiped. In the daylight it was hard to make out, but there was no denying the brief glow. Oblivious as he yanked his arm up, Brighton smiled. It was a good sign, though it would be a
few hours before the Touch took hold. Before they knew for sure. “Almost noon.”

“Thanks.” James stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, thrusting his hands back into his pockets, ignoring the glares of the other pedestrians. Brighton Daniels, whose future held either a blissed-out night without fear of consequences, or a spiral into his darkest thoughts, turned the corner and vanished from sight.

“Happy?” James mumbled as he pivoted, heading back in the direction of the apartment.

“Nope.” Eden stepped in front of him to block his path. “You need to get rid of more.” James rolled his eyes.

“I’ll deal with the buildup.”

“Because that’s gone so great for you, right?” she said. The sooner they got this over with, the better. It was freezing out. Winters in New York weren’t pleasant. Her leggings weren’t enough to keep her warm under her skirt.

“
You
don’t have to do this. You take it from the Siders, and then instead of spreading yourself, you get to dose Adam and Jarrod!”

She couldn’t help her bitter smile. “I have to dose Adam and Jarrod. With all the Touch I take in, they have better odds than the mortals of making it through. Would you rather I spread it myself? Kill them?” She yanked her hands into her sleeves. “And I’m genociding our kind. I deal with enough death.”

He fell silent as a group of teenagers burst out of a corner drugstore, ripping open a pack of Oreos while they laughed. James watched them as they stumbled off down the street, one girl yanking the cookies above her head, taunting the others.

“I miss that,” James said, staring after them.

Eden snorted. “Oreos?”

“No. Fun. Normalcy. None of
this
bullshit.”

“You killed yourself, James.” Eden shivered, giving up and leading the way back to the apartment. “Doesn’t seem like you were exactly striving for fun. Now all you do is bitch about having a second chance.”

She’d only gone a half a block before she realized he wasn’t following, stopped so he could catch up. He hesitated, before slowly making his way to her. As he drew closer, she could make out a deep hurt radiating from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, James. I’m tired and pissy and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“No,” he said, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I screwed up the first time around.”

“I just want you to try.” She tucked her hands into her pockets, waiting. He didn’t answer. “For me?” she added.

He glanced up. “I’ll give it a chance.”

Her phone rang, interrupting them. Eden pulled it from her pocket. She hit Ignore and shoved it back.

“Who was that?”

“No one,” she answered, trying to keep her voice even. If Az left a message, she would delete it without listening. Just like she had all the others.