A Touch Mortal (11 page)

G
abe stalked past the corrugated metal covering the storefronts, his finger tracing vibrant bubble-lettered graffiti. He gauged the honey sky, the smog already fading to amber. The sun would set soon.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he slowed his pace. He’d cut out of the apartment early, but even the long walk hadn’t done much to rebound his mood. Az’s snippy little comments had damaged his usual cheer. Sure, Az had reason to be all angst and issues, but the constant drama was getting to be a bit much. He seemed to forget, he wasn’t the only one who missed Eden.

A memory from summer flared. All he’d asked was for her to rub sunscreen on his back. Of course, she feigned innocence when the “missed” spots formed a perfect smiley face. It took him a week to get her back, polka dotting her arm after she fell asleep in the sun.

Gabe sighed, pulling the heavy coat around him. Now everything was a mess. All because of him.

He dropped onto a set of concrete stairs, pulling the hood of the parka over his golden curls. Heat filled every crevice, steaming into the sleeves. A drop of sweat trickled between the last curls near his hairline before it slipped down his neck. But instead of taking the jacket off, he yanked the cords on either side of the hood, drawing the fur lining closer.

He wondered again if he should tell Az about the other guy in Eden’s life. He didn’t know if she’d noticed the way the brown-haired boy looked at her yet. Kristen had said she’d kept Eden away from the others as much as possible, but he’d left with her.

From where Gabe sat, he could make out just enough of the steps of her apartment complex to know if she left. The city was lighting up, even here in the interesting part, before the ghetto really took hold.

He tucked his head down, playing the part of just another loitering degenerate, albeit one with a damn nice coat, and took in a few breaths of frigid air. The hood masked his eyes, but still let him see out. He focused on the steps across the way and down the street, ignoring the cars that fractured his view every few seconds.

Stilettos clicked behind him, someone leaving the building at the top of the steps he’d hunkered down on.
He kept his eyes low, staring down the street until a voice spoke.

“You got a cig?”

He peered sideways. The red stilettos were connected to a pair of legs in torn fishnets. “Don’t smoke,” he said, going back to his watch.

“A light then?”

“Why would I have a lighter if I don’t smoke?” he asked, distracted. A figure had turned the corner. On the stairs, Gabe tensed. In the deepening twilight, he couldn’t see the face. Every few feet the figure stopped, head cocked as if listening at every alcove and alley.

One of the shoes kicked lightly at his side. “You cute under that shit? You sound cute.”

Gabe didn’t answer, distractedly slipping the hood off to get a better look down the street. Next to him, he heard the girl take a surprised gasp.

“Damn. Looking for some company, angel?”

Gabe startled, turning to give her a good once-over. She was painfully mortal. It hadn’t been an observation. Only a pet name, probably something she whispered to a dozen guys a night.

“We don’t play for the same team, sweetheart,” he said, keeping an eye on the trench coat making its way closer.

The hooker dug through her purse, probably looking for the misplaced lighter. “Ain’t that just my fucking
luck,” she mumbled. He heard the swish of leather against nylon; the swinging of her purse back onto her shoulder. On the sidewalk, the shadowy figure was almost in front of him. Close enough to see the shoes.

The hooker finally noticed the newcomer. “How ’bout you, gorgeous? You up for some company?” The face turned toward the catcall, enough light catching for Gabe to get an eyeful. Luke’s shoulders pulled up in surprise, long dark curls bunching and falling into place again as he relaxed.

“Gabriel,” Luke tsked, recovering. “And what would the Upstairs say if they knew their golden boy was consorting with a lady of the night? I believe they’d be crest
fallen
.”

Gabe didn’t miss the emphasis. Luke knew damn well the prostitute was of no interest, slipped in the comment just to be obnoxious. He stood slowly, keeping his face calm.

“Luke.” What Gabe wanted to follow up with was
I hadn’t heard you were back into town
. It sounded so much cooler, so much more collected; but the lie fizzled, leaving the taste of sulfur on his tongue. He knew better than to voice the untruth, even without the not-so-subtle reminder.

“Where’s the girl, Gabriel?” Luke asked.

Next to Gabe, the woman scoffed angrily. As she
clunked down the stairs in her too-high heels she snapped, “If you weren’t interested you coulda just said so,” behind her.

Luke leaned against the railing of the stairs. “The rogue must be close if you’re out here playing watchdog.” His black curls swung as he swiveled to take in the empty street. “Care to share who you’re protecting her from?”

Gabe glared silence.

“You’re not protecting her from me, are you?” Luke’s jaw dropped in a false show of shock. He chuckled softly, his breath darting out in sharp clusters with each chuff. “We could always share her. Half for me, half for you?”

“Fuck you,” Gabe spat, the anger boiling over. It felt good, the heat of it bubbling inside of him. His hands curled into fists, but he pulled them up into the sleeves of the parka.
Now isn’t the time
, he cautioned himself.

Luke smiled. “Look at you! Using big-boy words.” When he spoke again, his voice had gone hard. “We all know about her existence, Gabriel. Siders can’t be killed, anyway. There’s no reason to be so secretive.”

“I’m just here tonight to watch,” Gabe said.

“Does He know you prefer it down here?” He paused. “You tell me what you know about the Siders, and I can arrange for a permanent vacation from that stuffy Attic.”

Gabe’s face twisted into a sour mask. “It’ll never happen, Luke.”

“All the trips you’ve taken down here to gather information for Them and you expect me to believe you’ve never once had a tryst, told a lie? We both know there has to be something in that past of yours worth a Fall. All you have to do is say it aloud. We’ll play confession.” Luke lowered his voice, moving closer. “Whisper me your wickedness, Gabriel, and pretend all it will cost is a few Our Fathers like the mortals.”

“Never,” Gabe snapped. Nothing would’ve cemented the cocky sneer more permanently onto Luke’s lips than Gabriel falling out of favor Upstairs. Let alone being the cause for it. He hadn’t told the Upstairs about the Siders. It was technically an omission, not enough for a full Fall, but enough to get him wings. Secrets rose up in his throat, bubbled against the back of his closed lips. He focused his attention on the stairs beneath him, the cold. Anything to distract his mind, keep it from latching on to what he hid. The thoughts faded. Az had taught him well.

Eventually, he’d have to confess. He was Bound. But first he had to find a reason why the Upstairs shouldn’t wipe the Siders out. He’d promised Kristen he’d wait until he found it.

“Let’s not rule it out with a ‘never’ just yet,” Luke mused. Gabe felt the hairs on his arms prickle.

Gabe snorted, unzipping the parka. He couldn’t watch
for Eden now, not so much look in that direction. Luke wouldn’t miss it.

Instead, he started talking. “You still have the same little fantasy of one of the Bound giving in to a Fallen? That’s precious.”

Luke reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He cupped a hand to block the wind and lit one, raising a finger to cut Gabe off.

“Don’t try to pull that high-and-mighty shit on me.”

He had to get Luke away. The best option seemed to be to just walk, and hope he would follow. As he stepped down the bottom two stairs, starting a slow saunter, Gabe swallowed hard.

“We’re not here to catch up, Gabriel. The rogue…” Luke started, unsmiling.

“I’m watching her, just like the rest of the Siders. When we figure out their purpose, we’ll decide what needs to be done with her specifically. From what little is out there, the only thing that’s obvious is she’s killing others of her kind.” Gabe turned, his shoulders squaring with authority. “It’s not the Basement’s concern.”

Luke sighed. “The girl is fair game. We both know that.”

Gabe cocked his head. “Why so interested in her?”

“Just because I don’t know how to work a toy, doesn’t mean I don’t want it in my toy box. She’s shiny.” He took
a few steps, putting some distance between them. “And I want her.”

Gabe watched him leave. Alone on the sidewalk, he closed his eyes, listening until the footsteps faded. He knew he had to go. Luke could turn around, backtrack. He slid the zipper of the parka back up. Turning down the nearest street, he dared a quick glance over his shoulder. Eden would be on her own tonight.

A
quartet of police cars broke around the corner, lining up along the curb. Next to Eden, James shifted from foot to foot, pulling his shabby jacket closed. If anyone but James had spotted the growing crowd, she would have still been down the block, tucked away in her room and out of the wind. But it had been James, and so of course she’d said yes.

“Pigs are here. Should we go?” he asked, wide eyes looking past Jarrod and Adam to her. She offered James a twitch of a smile and he relaxed.

“They’re not our concern.” She glanced around at the crowd. It was easily large enough to keep them anonymous. No one seemed to be paying them any special attention. Of course, whenever the Fallen had been mentioned, no one had bothered to tell her helpful things like what the hell they
looked
like. The Siders knew how to find her, though. She knew it was only a matter of time.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, her attention drifting to the reason for the crowd, for the cops. The shadowy outline of a solitary figure paced the ledge twenty stories above.

“And we wouldn’t wanna miss the grand finale,” Jarrod added, gesturing upward dismissively.

Next to her, Adam chuckled. “Sometimes you’re damn scary, you know that?” His long brown bangs obscured his eyes, but she’d caught the horrified amusement in them.

“Only sometimes?” she asked. She caught Jarrod in a sidelong glance. “Clearly, you’re slipping.”

Jarrod chuffed a laugh and Adam looked past the awning of the old hotel, past empty window after empty window.

“Think it’s him?” James asked her.

“Too far up. I can’t tell.” She squinted, absently spiraling one of her pink highlights around her finger.

“If he jumps we’ll get a closer look.” Jarrod snickered.

Eden shot him an icy glare, the eclectic mix of bracelets on her wrist jingling as she threw a hand on her hip. “Well, he is taking his time up there.” With her thumb, she toyed with one of the three silver rings adorning her pinkie finger. “I think our friend just might make it.”

“Bet on that?” Jarrod asked, jumping onto a dented mailbox. He kicked his shoes against the side, met Adam’s glare with casual indifference. “Look, either she thinks he
really is gonna make it, or she’s lying to the kid.” He looked down to Eden. “Which is it?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

She knew she shouldn’t give in, that she was only encouraging the bullshit attitude he’d had lately, but bastard or not, he knew her. She glanced at James, making sure his attention was elsewhere, that he didn’t see her hesitation.

“Screw it,” she said suddenly. “You’re on. When I win, you’re on laundry for three weeks.” She extended her hand, black fingernails absorbing the lights.

“And if I win you’re gonna let us figure out how to help you with the buildup from clearing the Siders from our stairs in the morning. Something more than the dosing.” She looked up at him, caught off guard. Apparently she hadn’t been hiding it as well as she thought. Jarrod studied the businessman above for a quick moment, and then shook her hand. “Three weeks.”

The man on the ledge teetered. The crowd hushed. The police stirred and Eden cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Don’t do it!” she screamed.

“I’m fucking cold! Shit or get off the pot!” Jarrod’s voice bellowed out louder than Eden’s, drowning her out. A disgusted shriek sounded and he swiveled toward a girl glaring at him, her eyes a mixture of hatred and pity.
Murderer,
Eden read on her lips.

Jarrod’s mouth fell open. Eden could almost taste his bitter retort. It was…right…there. After another second of silence, Eden glanced up at him. Jarrod looked from Eden to the girl, his eyes unreadable before he dipped his head, giving the mailbox a weak kick.

The girl spun away. Eden didn’t miss the satisfied “so much better than you” mask plastered across her face, the superior air.
Bitch, please
, Eden fumed silently.
You’re here too.

“No one fucks with my boys,” she whispered. Anger sent her ungloved finger forward, headed for the cliché flower tramp stamp.
No
, she thought, but the need was too strong, the draw of her fingers to the bare skin like a magnet. James caught Eden’s wrist just before she made contact. She blinked in surprise.

“What are you doing? You’ll kill her!” James stared at her in disbelief, disappointment in his voice. Already her anger was dissipating to guilt. She forced a deep breath, trying to calm herself as the girl walked off through the crowd.

A sudden scream ripped her eyes upward.

The ledge was empty. A whoosh of air sent Eden stumbling backward as the body hit the ground at her feet. Az, the balcony, the bent leg. The mental snapshot superimposed itself over the body. Inside her, a wail built.
It’s not Az. That never happened.
She turned away, swallowing
down her retch in silence, grief and embarrassment swirling through her.
I can’t mourn him anymore. He’s not dead.

“Skin and concrete. Do…not…mix,” Jarrod said, a look of amazement on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. He slid off the mailbox, the soles of his feet hitting the ground just as the screams started. From beside her, she heard James groan, some mixture of devastation and acceptance. He took a step to the left, leaning closer to the mostly undamaged face of the jumper. He backed away suddenly, looking to Eden, his eyes full of surprise.

“James, I’m sorry he took it bad, but…”

“No! Eden, look at him!” His hands shook. “That’s not my guy! I promise!”

She leaned in to the pile of limbs on the concrete. James was right. Somewhere in the city, Brighton Daniels was still alive. In theory.

They left the chaos behind, the sidewalk traffic thinning down to the normal New York rush of strangers. Eden tossed a glance back over her shoulder, taking in a panoramic of the shattered crowd.

“So I won the bet.” Jarrod didn’t seem particularly thrilled to bring it up, more like mentioning it was a necessary evil. Eden let another block pass beneath their feet before she answered.

“What exactly do you expect me to…?” She trailed off. Jarrod stared, waiting for her to finish the thought.
Instead, she tucked the tips of her fingers into the back of the waist of her skirt, turning to cross the street. The boys followed without comment.

“What are you thinking?” Jarrod asked after a full minute had passed.

She swept him with her icy blue eyes. “I’m thinking you’re not paying attention. Getting sidetracked by something meaningless.” Eden whirled to the busy sidewalk behind them.

Only steps away, too close, was a blond girl. Her ponytail held the strands high, a delicate swoop of curls decorating the last few inches. She looked every bit the all-American cheerleader type. Not the kind of girl that would have descended from her pedestal to talk to them had they been alive and in the halls of some suburban high school. The girl froze, staring.

Eden pointed a jeweled finger into the startled face. “She’s been following us for two blocks,” she said, keeping her eyes on the boys. “You didn’t even notice her, did you?”

Adam and Jarrod didn’t dare speak, unsure of the next move. But James was still new enough to let out an attempt at an apology before she silenced him with a glare.

Eden brushed a finger across the girl’s shoulder.

James gasped, but just as Eden suspected, there was no glow. Instead, the glamour fell away, dark circles smudging the eyes. The first signs of grave rot blushed the girl’s
cheeks as oblivious pedestrians cut around them.

Great
, she thought. Now it wasn’t Siders just on the stairs in the morning. They were following her around like paparazzi. Disgusted, Eden spun toward the neon open sign of Milton’s, the girl gasping in shock behind her.

“I am off fucking duty,” Eden said over her shoulder, her voice cold. “Macchiatos and mercy kills don’t go well together. Come back in the morning.”

No more threat should have been needed, but the girl didn’t take the hint. She twisted her hands into her coat sleeves, chewing her lip, but didn’t move.

“Run along,” Eden added, flicking her fingers through the air.

“So you
are
her?” the girl whispered in awe. “The Sider they’re all talking about.” Eden’s hand paused on the handle. The girl stepped back. “Everyone said to stay out of the other boroughs. People say Manhattan is safe. Well, except for you, of course.” She hesitated, unsure. “But unless they ask, you don’t…”

Jarrod’s mouth twitched. “Kill them?”

“You’d only heard I was in Manhattan and you managed to find me?” Eden stared, waiting for the girl to break, but she stayed silent. “Someone told you where I was. Someone told you how to find me.”

“Black hair, pink in it. Small group. One of them a cocky skater punk type?” She gave Jarrod a once-over.
“Everyone’s heard the rumors. The details are pretty consistent, but the location’s never the same. When I saw you guys tonight, it wasn’t exactly rocket science.” The new girl raised an eyebrow, shot him a half smile. Her glamour had slipped back into place. Once again she looked like any other typical homecoming queen type; the only thing missing was the tiara.

Eden stepped closer, only a breath away. “What do you want,” Eden prodded.

“I don’t really know where to start.” She lost her nerve, looked away. “I’ve been following leads, hoping I’d bump into you.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I guess I just did.”

“That guy on the ledge. Was he yours?” James asked. His voice wavered, as if his life depended on knowing the answer. As if it was important.

“He held the door for me this morning,” she said. “I followed him. I normally don’t go for ones who look like they’ll take it bad. Do you guys normally watch after? Make sure they’re okay?”

As Eden watched from the corner of her eye, James’s gaze traveled to the girl’s face. He seemed bewitched, his eyes glassy. It was almost cute until she noticed Jarrod too had given in, their little crushes evident on their faces. Though he would never admit it, even Adam looked to be giving her a bit more consideration than normal.

The new girl didn’t seem to notice, keeping her eyes
on Eden. “Could I maybe buy you a cup of coffee? I was wondering if we could talk.”

The chance, even so slight, that the girl had been told about her by whoever kept her stairs popular nagged at the back of Eden’s mind. Too many Siders. Too many rumors. She didn’t want to stop. Would never deny the Siders the choice of opting out. Just had to figure out how to control the rumors before the Fallen got wind.

“Someone’s gotta death wish,” Adam said under his breath.

She stared at him for a second before taking a slow step toward Milton’s. “Actually, it’s the opposite,” she said, throwing the heavy wood open. “I need a place to live.”

Eden’s bracelets jangled as she settled into a wooden booth. She swirled her fingers through the steam rising from her cup. She caught Jarrod’s eye from where he stood at the counter with James before turning back to the girl across from her.

“Okay, you have my attention.” Eden took a sip of her coffee, not bothering to cool it with a breath first. “Make it quick.”

“Here’s the deal. I spent the last of my serious cash on a hotel for tonight. I’ve got two weeks until my phone gets shut off, and I can’t get a job because I don’t have an address.” The girl wrapped her now ungloved
hands around the warmth of her paper cup.

Eden shrugged. “So beg. I’ll even lend you some markers. You can make yourself a real nice sign.”

“Look, in the other boroughs, they have big groups. But you just got started. I learn fast. I could help you.”

“We’re fine how we are.” Eden kept her face stoic as she shrugged her shoulders back into her coat, turning to climb out of the booth. She poked Adam, who’d slid in next to her.

“Wait!” the girl yelled, holding her hand across the table to stop her. “Hear me out!”

Eden looked down at the splayed fingers, waiting for Adam to move. Fortunately, in the months they’d been teamed up, he’d honed his talent for knowing when she counted on him to not obey. Eden feigned impatience just long enough to make the girl nervous before dropping back into her seat. She twirled her hand in the air.

“From the look of it, I have two choices. End up raped in some alley or join up with a group. The other Siders I’ve found…” She dropped her gaze, seemed to force herself to raise it again. “I ended up in Manhattan because I was told you didn’t bother Siders here too much. But crashing under a bridge is not my idea of ‘safe.’ And I’m out of money.”

“I am not a bank.”

“I stand by my death wish statement,” Adam laughed.
This time, he didn’t need any prodding. He drained the last of his coffee and slid from the booth.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Reaching back automatically, Adam took Eden’s hand. She let him help her up, his fingers wrapping around hers. Neither of their glamours so much as flickered. They’d long since grown immune to each other. Jarrod glanced over, saw them standing, and tapped James on the shoulder. They crossed the room to her.

“Wait. Where are you going?” Trailing behind, the girl followed to the door, but Jarrod pulled it shut behind him, leaving her inside.

The streets glistened with nighttime city shine, brought to life by the drizzle that had started while they’d been inside. Eden wasn’t surprised to see her breath. A few degrees colder and the discarded cigarette butts and straw wrappers would be frozen to the curb. Already the air smelled of snow under the exhaust fumes.

She led them past a seedy cabaret, ignoring the heroin eyes near the entrance. Turning down the alley that separated them from home, Jarrod’s steps faltered.

“Eden! Stop.”

She turned to him.

“Why’d you leave?”

“Because we don’t need another mouth to feed, Jarrod.”

Jarrod threw his hands in the air. “Oh, come on. You’ve been after Zach to join us for weeks now. Why not her?”

“Zach can take care of himself. That girl’s looking for a handout.”

“Are you kidding me? She needs a place to stay, and you need someone besides me and Adam to dose. Sounds like a fair trade to me.”