A Touch Mortal (6 page)

“My room?” Eden stepped back once, toward the door.

Kristen swept up the rest of the stairs, coming to a stop at the top. “Gabriel left you in my care. Perhaps you’ll follow me for his sake?”

“Where is he?” She couldn’t keep the shaking from her voice.

“He was concerned about your safety while he addressed some…” She met Eden’s eye. “Issues that came up tonight.”

“Then give me a phone. I’m not staying here. I need to call home for a ride.” She knew it wasn’t likely anyone would answer, didn’t care. She’d fake the phone call and get the hell out. “My mom has to be freaking out,” she added. “She’s probably filed a missing person’s report by now.”

Kristen leaned against the banister, watching her in silence. “I doubt that very much.”

Then she spun, heading down the hall, ending the conversation, leaving Eden little choice but to follow.

The first few doors on either side of the hall had been closed, light glowing from under the cracks beneath them. Beyond those few, though, they were all open and dark. Kristen finally reached into one, flipping the switch. Eden slowed her steps, leery. She watched Kristen for a moment from the threshold before she sat on the edge of the bed. Kristen closed the door, leaned against it.

“If I could just call Gabe,” Eden started, but Kristen waved her into silence. She ignored her. “You’re a friend of his?”

Kristen ran a finger down the door, tapping her nail against the knob. “One might say that.” Her tone suggested something more.

Eden raised an eyebrow at the insinuation. “Then clearly you don’t know him that well.”

Kristen threw her head back as she laughed. “Really now? Isn’t it possible that you don’t know him as well as you thought?”

The air seemed to leave her lungs. Everything she’d known had been twisted around tonight.

Kristen rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Eden, you’re such an open book. I can actually see you puzzling it out.” Her
voice rose an octave, mocking. “‘This girl I’ve just met told me he was lying so he must be.’” Her face went hard. “Gabe is your friend. Try to show some fucking loyalty, hmm?”

Eden’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Who
are
you?”

“Where were you tonight, Eden? Before you woke up here.”

“After Az…” The words thickened in her throat with the memory of Az’s face as he fell, his body lying broken on the pavement.

Kristen nodded, her face almost sympathetic. “Go on.”

“I was on the beach,” she stuttered.

“In the water or out?”

“In.” Her brow furrowed. Why was it so fuzzy? “I was standing, in the water.” She hesitated. “I was standing in the water and…then nothing. I woke up here.” Kristen slid off one glove in a deliberate sweeping gesture before turning her attention back to Eden.

“All right, my little blank slate, let’s just dive in, shall we?” The gloved hand shot forward suddenly, grabbing Eden’s wrist.

“Let go!” Eden jerked, but Kristen held tight. “What are you doing?”

Kristen’s grin spread. She dragged Eden’s hand closer, until it hovered just above the ribbed corset of her dress.

“You’re lying about the beach.” Kristen sneered as
she yanked. “Everyone remembers their death.”

Eden’s fingertips hit Kristen’s collarbone.

The skin slid loose from Kristen’s face, down her cheeks. Eden couldn’t tear her hand away. Couldn’t move. One of Kristen’s eye sockets went hollow, the bone behind yellowed. What was left of her lips ripped apart as her smile widened.

Eden wanted to scream, but nothing would come out.

“Not even a shriek?” The features slid back to where they belonged, the pert nose seeming to form out of nowhere. There was no blood, everything back to normal. “Do not puke on my rug,” she said before releasing Eden’s hand. It hung there in the air, shaking.

I’m hallucinating
, she thought. It was the only explanation. Her mind clamped onto the idea, though her body hadn’t caught up, her mouth opening and closing like a dying carp.
Stress. Grief. Or they drugged me.
The excuses explained everything away in a dainty little package.

“Would you like to know what happened on the beach, Eden?” Kristen snapped. She stepped closer even as Eden shrunk from her. “The idea of living a life without Az was just too much for your pretty little head. You stood in that water, and you couldn’t stand the thought of going on. You gave up.”

“No,” Eden whispered.

“Whatever horrible existence you managed to carve out
for yourself died with you.” Kristen went on, her words slow and careful. “You must have noticed them forgetting you. Family, your friends? It may have taken Az’s death to give you that final push, but your suicide was already inevitable.”

“I’m not dead, that’s just…” She’d been on the beach, in the water, in shock. Eden shook her head, trying to rattle the sanity back into it.

“Your old life is over, Eden. You’re a Sider now.” Her bare feet padded across the floorboards. Just before she reached the door, she turned. “Gabe brought you here because he knew you needed to be with your own kind. I took you in as a favor to him. But I don’t have time to coddle you. You’re dead.” A smile twitched her lips. “Live with it.”

Eden checked the door after the sound of Kristen’s footsteps faded. It didn’t surprise her to find it locked, though her heart still sank. She scanned the room, searching for a phone, another way out. The window was second story.

Dead. The word echoed through her mind. If she were dead, there would be nothing, none of the grief cleaving her heart in two. Shaking, she sunk onto the bed.
Is that why I can’t remember?
Her brain felt fried, overloaded.

She stared at the door, too numb to cry. There was nothing to do but wait for it to be opened.

T
he hesitant rapping on wood was enough to pull her out of the fugue state she’d passed the night in. Eden bolted upright just as the door clicked open.

A guy peered around the door, not bothering to hide his stare while he sized her up. Eden returned the favor. Shaggy brown hair, maybe a few years older than her. Jeans and a T-shirt for some band she’d never heard of. He looked normal enough. Maybe last night’s costumes were just that. Costumes.

“Breakfast?” He moved his arm in past the door, revealing a covered silver tray. The smell of sausage and syrup drifted across the room. “Yeah?” He waggled the tray a bit, smiling.

“I’m not hungry.”
The dead don’t eat, anyway,
she thought. Fresh tears filled her eyes. She yanked her ponytail holder free, rubbing her face before she rebound the tangled mess of her hair.

Her stomach betrayed her, belting out a low protest.

“Not hungry, huh?” He crossed the room and plopped down on her bed uninvited. A puff of steam escaped as he lifted the lid. “I’m taking your bacon then.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“Don’t know any Gabriels.” True to his word, he tossed half a strip into his mouth.

“But you know Kristen?” she asked, eyeing him.

He laughed. “I definitely know Kristen. I live here.”

“So, you’re…dead.” He nodded, nonplussed, and crunched another piece of bacon. “If you’re dead, why are you eating?”

“Because bacon is awesome? You can eat or not, your call.” He shrugged. “Oh!” he said, digging into his back pocket. “Mail call.” He threw an oversized manila envelope at her. It spun through the air, one of the points catching her skin as it hit her chest.

“That fucking hurt, asshole!”

He stopped chewing. “Jesus, I hope you know better than to talk to
Kristen
like that.” When he’d finished his mouthful, he added, “I’m Adam.”

There was a chance, however slight, he was sane. For now, any semblance of a violent streak seemed placated by pillaging her abandoned pancakes.

“Eden.” She held out her hand.

He let out a quiet chuckle, cocked a finger at her hand.

“We shake hands, it’s gonna get ugly.” He traded a smile for her blank stare. “Once you’ve been here awhile, you’ll stop reacting to the other Siders.”

She flashed back to the ball, the dozen guys in their formal wear, the girls in ball gowns. All of them had been Siders. Dead. “Yesterday you were all wearing gloves.”

“Look, Kristen went all
Dawn of the Dead
on you, right?” he asked, gesturing to his face. “She wasn’t rotting in real time. You haven’t been around her, so your Touch dropped her glamour. We don’t spend enough time with the other boroughs to grow immune, and yesterday Madeline’s group came in from Queens. Hence the gloves.”

I’m in New York?
she thought. “Madeline. She’s the one I talked to last night.”

Adam froze. “You talked to Madeline?”

Something in the way Adam gaped at her told her she’d pulled off some kind of undead faux pas. “She seemed a lot less crazy than Kristen.”

Adam dropped the fork slowly to the tray, pushing it away. “Crazy’s not always the worst thing.” He paused long enough for her to wonder if he would go on.

“So, you look…” She swallowed. “If I touch you, you’ll look like Kristen did?”

“Not as rotty as she probably did. The more Touch you’re storing, the worse you tend to look, and Kristen
is always testing the limits. Probably has a lot to do with how come she’s…” He trailed off, giving the door a quick glance before he twirled his hand around his temple. He lowered his hand. “Do you wanna see what I look like? I mean, I don’t just go revealing my inner self to every girl I meet but…” Adam held out his arm, his fingers relaxing into a loose fist. “Go ahead.”

She jiggled her knee, her finger flexing closer. “Will it hurt you?”

“Won’t feel a thing.”

She kept her eyes on his face as her finger brushed against his wrist. His skin sallowed, the cheeks hollowing out. His brown eyes clouded over, but didn’t burst the way Kristen’s had. Clusters of blackened capillaries bruised a thick ring around his neck. And then it was over. His features shimmered back into place as the glamour took hold again.

“Not so bad, right?” Adam dropped his hand to his lap. Eden let out an awkward laugh, but shook her head. “A few more days here and nothing will happen when you touch me. Do you wanna see what you look like? Because I can show you.” He pointed to the mirror above the dresser.

“Will it be bad?”

“Nah, you can’t have built up much Touch. You’re like, what? One day in? You’ll still be pretty.” A blush burst across his face.

“Here,” she said quickly, offering him her own arm.

She felt the shift, a subtle tingle racing across her hairline, down her spine. Adam yanked back.

“What? What is it?” She twisted to the mirror, caught the fading dull cream of cheekbones under stripped flesh before her skin knitted over again.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“I’m not supposed to look like that, am I?” She tore her eyes from the mirror. “You said it wouldn’t be like that!”

“How the hell?” He sounded out each word. “Has Kristen touched you?” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Eden, you cannot let Kristen see you without your glamour. Do you understand?”

“Why? Why did I look like that?”

“No one builds up Touch that fast. No one can
store
that much.”

“Adam, please. What’s going on?”

He slid off the bed, putting distance between them. His tone shifted, coming out strained, formal. “Kristen has requested the pleasure of your company in the foyer once you’ve finished breakfast. There’s a shower across the hall.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Obviously you’re not new, and I have no idea how you’re storing that much and still functioning, but you are
far
too potent. She’ll make you a Screamer.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“She locks them in their rooms. Doesn’t let them pass Touch. We don’t see them again. But we hear them.”

“What’s Touch?”

“If you just needed somewhere to crash for the night, fine, but I’d get out while you can. Kristen’s worse than any rumor you’ve heard.” He opened the door and slipped out without answering her question.

She stared after him. After a minute her eyes fell to the large envelope waiting beside her, her name splayed across the front.

She ripped at the sealed flap, swiping the inside. At first she thought it was empty, but then the edge of a photograph slipped under her nail. She pulled it out.

“Oh,” she whispered. The sudden image of him caught her off guard, tears blurring his face. She blinked hard until he cleared.

Her eyes were closed in the shot; her head in Az’s lap as he’d leaned down to kiss her forehead. They looked deliriously happy. She ran her fingers reverently over its surface.

“Az,” she murmured. She hadn’t known Gabe had snapped the picture. Never seen it before now.

She slid the picture back into the envelope, glancing around the room for a safe place to keep it. There wouldn’t be enough words to tell him how much it meant to her when she saw him again. If she saw him again.

E
den descended the stairs, scoping out the room below, but there was no sign of a trap. No sign of Sebastian or Adam waiting to ambush her. Only Kristen, flopped across an overstuffed armchair. One of her legs swung idly over an armrest, her hand draped across her forehead.

She wore a different dress, this one a dark blue vintage circa 1950. Nothing as garish as last night’s ball gown. Judging by how Kristen had stocked the closet in Eden’s room, dresses were apparently her thing. Eden hadn’t managed to find much that was passable in the dresser. A black skirt and a few layered tank tops had gotten the job done.

Kristen sat up at the creaking stairs. “Dear Lord, child. Does it always take you so long to shower?”

Eden didn’t answer. She’d held her shit together last night and through breakfast, but once she stepped under the faucet head, the water streaming over her, it was over. She’d given in to her grief, clamped a hand over her mouth
to muffle her cry, while the spray stripped tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall. Now she felt nothing but hollow.

“You’re not afraid of me after last night, are you?” Kristen leaned forward, raising an eyebrow in amusement. She took Eden’s silence for a no and catapulted herself out of the chair. “Wonderful! I thought perhaps you’d like to go somewhere with me.”

Eden’s brow wrinkled. “What, outside?”

“This isn’t a prison, Eden.” With a glance up the stairs, Kristen cupped the side of her hand around her mouth and stage-whispered, “At least not to you,” her over-theatrical wink laced with sarcasm.

“Which is why you locked me in last night?”

“Oh, Eden. Let’s not be bitter about last night. I’d like you to feel at home during your stay here.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Long enough,” Kristen offered as a non-answer.

“Where’s Gabe?” Eden asked, knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. If he had left her here, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back. Maybe it was because of what happened to Az. “Is he Upstairs?”

Kristen raised an eyebrow. “You mean a lot to Gabriel. He cares about you.”

Eden nodded, unsure where Kristen planned to go with the conversation. “He’s my friend. I want to make
sure he’s okay. We just lost Az.” She hesitated, forced herself to stop. “You keep saying you know him, but you don’t seem to know anything about him.”

Kristen’s stare was piercing. “I don’t give away his secrets to those I don’t trust. Knowledge is power, Eden, and Gabriel is important to me. You’ll forgive me if I’m not as loose with sensitive information as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eden couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. She felt like she was in some nightmare. That she’d wake up curled next to Az in the bed at the hotel. But dreams were painless. The ache in her chest drummed reality against her rib cage with every beat. She’d never wake up next to Az.

“Last night you told Madeline you were with Az. His girlfriend,” Kristen said.

“So? I—” Eden cut off, not sure what tense to use. Am his girlfriend? Was his girlfriend?

“Did you even stop to wonder if
Madeline
might be loyal to the Fallen before you babbled away?” Kristen shook her head, disappointment in her eyes. It seemed directed at herself rather than Eden.

“She told the Fallen about me?” Eden managed. Her heart hammered. “Gabe trusted you and you gave me right to Madeline?”

Kristen’s eyes flashed anger. “Luckily the girl can be bought, so she’s keeping your secret for now. Cameron
should never have allowed you to talk to her. It’s important that the Fallen believe you died on that beach. It was important that she see you. Important that she thought you were just another Sider. But you went and spoiled it. You don’t understand what they will do to you, just to hurt him.”

“If Az is dead, what does it matter?”

Kristen’s look was even. “You’re a liability, Eden. I don’t particularly adore you being here. Not until I see you can be trusted.”

“So this is that whole ‘welcoming’ thing you keep talking about?” Eden snipped. “Because I can go.”

“Where? I don’t know what he sees in you, but I promised Gabriel I’d keep you in one piece.” Kristen smirked, walking toward the front door. “We’re going to start over with some girl bonding. Bonding builds trust. I’ve had quite the exhausting morning. I thought we’d unwind with some window-shopping.”

Now it was Eden’s turn to stare. “You want me to go shopping with you?”

“We won’t be bringing anything home today, just looking. But it’ll grant me the opportunity to kill two birds.”

Eden shadowed her down the steps, following the path to the sidewalk. When she glanced back, she caught her first view of the house from outside. It offered no hint to what went on behind the closed door.

“Come, come,” Kristen hummed, snapping her fingers.
“I must admit, I thought I’d have to revisit last night’s little show at least once to convince you that you hadn’t lost your mind.” She slowed her pace to match Eden’s, scooting over to make room so they could walk side by side. “The tenacity does earn you a point or two.”

“Does it?” Eden’s voice was flat. She eyed the street warily. The neighborhood looked normal enough. Her muscles tensed as she debated making a run for it. Quiet neighborhood, no transportation. Sure, she could take off. But Kristen was right. Where would she go?

They walked by the arched walkway of an estate, rose bushes climbing the trellis. Kristen snagged a bloom, caressed it as they walked.

“I’d rather Gabriel and Az not be mentioned by name under my roof.” She ripped a petal free of the flower, casting it aside. “No one really knows much about the Siders. Gabriel’s trying to figure things out, but until then, it’s best his association with us is kept quiet. To answer your question, he had some loose ends to tie up. I’m sure he’ll be in contact soon.”

“And so I just wait, no questions?” Eden sighed hard. “I wake up in some random house, I’m told all kinds of crazy, and now I’m supposed to what? Stay here?”

Kristen stopped dead. “Let’s get something straight. With Az and Gabriel in your past, you’re nearly guaranteed to be trouble to anyone you come in contact with. You
were damn lucky to have me take you in. No Sider wants the Fallen to come knocking on her door. You’re here to learn. Not to pontificate the cruelties of fate. Those you surround yourself with should fall into one of two categories. The used, or the amusing.” She gripped the rose high up on the stem, snapped off the bloom with her thumb. The break wasn’t clean. The head dangled, damaged beyond repair. “You’d be wise to pick a category, Eden, because anyone else is a burden.”

“So which one is Gabe?”

Kristen froze. A plastic grin swept her lips up. “Lesson two. Everyone has a weakness. Loyalty happens to be mine.” She let the flower fall, careful to step around it. “Tenacious and maybe even a bit clever. See! Our bonding is working! I like you a little more already.”

Kristen dug into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a dainty silver case. She snapped it open, palming a piece of paper before she offered Eden one of the clove cigarettes lining the inside. Even before Eden shook her head, Kristen had lit one for herself and tucked the case away.

“Quite a pleasant surprise. When I found Az was with a mortal, I assumed he was just slumming.”

Eden winced at his name, but Kristen didn’t seem to notice. “Slumming?”

“The Fallen have their little digressions. Mortals are shiny to angels, but they don’t belong with them. Those
silly girls never manage to sink their claws in for very long.” Kristen’s lips pressed together as if she realized she’d said too much.

“It wasn’t like that with us.” Eden stared off down the street, searching for a question, anything to camouflage the empty heaviness every time she thought of him, heard his name.

Kristen took a long drag and made a weak attempt at blowing a smoke ring. The circle wobbled and broke apart as it left her lips. “Sebastian doesn’t approve of me smoking. Says it sets a bad example. But it’s the one vice I could never quite shake.” For a girl who claimed knowledge was power, she sure seemed to be doling it out.

Eden rolled her eyes. “It’s not like it’s gonna kill you. You’re dead. Or undead.” A guy across the street caught Eden’s eye. She watched him walk, tuning Kristen out.

Eden couldn’t take her eyes off the guy. His hair wasn’t curly enough, not quite the right shade of brown. She shifted her eyes to the house beyond him, let him fall further out of focus.
Better
, she thought.

“If I’m dead, where’s Az?” she asked. The guy must have felt her staring and turned toward her. Eden’s stomach dropped, but from the front there wasn’t even a passing resemblance. From the corner of her eye, Eden caught the shake of Kristen’s head, spun back just in time to catch her gaze flash to the guy and back.

“You may have killed yourself thinking you’d get to be with him, but this isn’t the afterlife, sweet pea. It’s the Bronx.” Kristen flicked the cigarette and hit it again. “You won’t find him here.”

Kristen dropped what was left of the cigarette, crushing it underfoot with her last step before she came to a stop. She handed over the piece of newspaper she’d been holding.

It was an obituary. The picture showed a woman in her twenties. Eden scanned the article. Car accident. Fashion student. “What’s this?”

“Passing knowledge of the deceased. Proper funeral-crashing etiquette dictates at least knowing her name.” Kristen tipped her head to the side.

The parlor looked like a normal house, designed to blend from the white siding down to the choice of flowers in the mulched beds. Only the wooden sign staked down in the middle of the lawn betrayed its purpose. That and the well-dressed mourners plodding up the walkway. Cars lined either side of the street.

“It’s packed in there already and we’re fifteen minutes early. My theory, proven once again,” Kristen said, climbing the stairs.

“What theory would that be?”

“Everyone adores a tragedy.” The door opened before them, the suited usher nodding, his expression serious until he actually looked at them.

“Hey, Paul.” Kristen raised a hand, giving him a slight wiggle of her fingers. She gasped, gripping the sides of her dress in excitement. “You’ve redecorated! And such a wonderful eye for color! Cheers to the death of that dreadful wallpaper,” she exclaimed, taking in the hallway beyond. “Eden, meet Paul. His dad owns this place.”

“And he told you you’re not allowed to be here. Why don’t you just hang out at Starbucks like a normal girl?”

As if a switch flipped, Kristen’s delight faded. “This one I know, Paul.”

Eden stared between the two of them. Paul wasn’t sold. Not even with Kristen’s pained expression, the dramatic sigh before she went on. “Amanda was my babysitter when I was little, our neighbor. I hadn’t seen her since we moved, but my mother requested that I make an appearance since she’s unable to attend.” She added a sad shake of her head, lowering her voice. “I don’t want to get you into trouble, Paul. I only need a few minutes.”

He nodded, blushing with embarrassment.

When they were safely out of his earshot and into the main viewing room, Kristen murmured, “That’ll teach him to call me out.”

“You’re sick. You know that, right?”

Kristen snorted a laugh, twisted it into a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m skilled. What you just witnessed?
Beginner’s manipulation. And also a classic example of why research pays.” She sniffed, tossing the tissue into the trash.

“Look.” Eden glanced around. The room was filling up, family and
actual
friends occupying the rows of chairs. “Why are we even here?”

Kristen had led them to the receiving line. She tilted her head toward the man standing five feet to the side of the coffin, greeting each of the mourners after they paid their last respects. “Frank Watson. In seventeen days he’ll celebrate the big five-oh. He’s a CEO, but an honest one. Old money—the family has a crypt in the cemetery down the street. Usually upbeat, a nearly unbearable brand of cheerful. If I had spread Touch to him last week, chances are the Touch wouldn’t have killed him.”

There it was again, the same word Adam had used. “What is that? Touch?”

“Am I not explaining that now, Eden? Really, try to show some patience.” Kristen crossed her arms, taking a few steps to keep up with the line, but staying far enough from the mortals that they wouldn’t be overheard. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Eden rolled her eyes. “I’m feeling annoyed that you never answer any questions.”

“A bit uneasy, maybe? Like you’ve had too much caffeine? That’s usually what it feels like when Touch isn’t spread, at least the first day.”

“Currently I have a headache from
lack
of coffee. No jitters.”

“Nothing?” Kristen took her in for a moment, as if waiting for her to break down. “Well, it’s still early, I suppose. Touch is, unfortunately, our burden to bear.” She glanced down at Eden’s hands. “And the reason you should be wearing gloves in public. Each day, starting tomorrow, you’ll be passing it to a different mortal. This needs to be done every day, Eden. If you let it build, it becomes lethal.”

“So if I don’t touch people, it’ll kill me?”

“No. Immortality is one of the rare upsides to being a Sider.” Kristen lowered her voice. “If you let it build, it will feel like being eviscerated. But Touch won’t kill you.” Her eyes darted to the coffin and back. “It’ll kill them. It’s a virus, and we’re the host.”

“We make them sick?” Eden whispered.

Kristen looked thoughtful. “It feeds off their feelings, strips away the ability to see right and wrong, to know when to stop. A mortal on Touch sees no consequences. I guess in that way it’s more like a drug than a virus. If they’re happy, satisfied, they come through with a few crazy stories.”

Kristen swept her bangs out of her eyes, her fingers lingering on her brow. “Not every Sider takes it to a good place. Take Madeline, for example. She seeks out the
suicidal. She enjoys it, Eden,” she said, enunciating each word. “Fancies herself some kind of reaper. Nothing gets that girl off more than using Touch to give them that final push.”