A Touch Mortal (8 page)

E
very morning they’d climbed onto the train, she and Kristen, and sat across from each other. Outside, the brick buildings were a mess of taupe patches of painted-over graffiti. Eden had stopped paying attention after the second week. Every morning a duplicate of the last. No choice, no variation. Leave early, ride the train to a random stop, a nod from Kristen to point out the mortal she’d chosen, and Eden’s fingers swiping skin. Then back home.

They’d talked at first, on the ride home, when they’d both woken up enough to be civil. Lately, though, Kristen’s eyes skated across the crowd the entire ride, glaring at random strangers. Today, she’d lost the shifty eyes. Gone to staring into space.

“So,” Eden tried. “I was kinda thinking it would be warmer out.”

Kristen didn’t answer. Her glassy stare set Eden on
edge, the empty insistence in its focus, stuck in middle distance between them.

Eden dropped the small talk, went for something she knew would get a reaction. “That dress is hideous.”

Silence.

The chill running down her spine had nothing to do with the changing weather. She couldn’t shake the feeling something really was there, something only Kristen could see.

“Are you okay?” Eden asked. When she didn’t get an answer, she raised her voice. “Kristen! What are you staring at?”

“Oh,” she said quietly, the word drawn out. “Nothing really. Just listening.”

“To what?” she dared.

“Things under things under things.” Her eyelids dropped in long blinks. “‘Locations and times—what is it in me that meets them all, whenever and wherever, and makes me at home?’”

Eden stared, not sure what to say. The train rounded a curve, the brakes shrieking. Kristen blinked hard, the fugue seeming to end as her smile evaporated. Her eyes focused on Eden. “What?” she snapped, breaking contact, smoothing out the folds of her dress. “It’s a
poem
, Eden. You don’t have to look at me like I escaped an asylum. Get some fucking culture.”

Eden sighed, too tired to deal with Kristen’s attitude. “I would think if you were going to quote Whitman you’d go for something not taken from
Leaves of Grass
. Especially if you’re going to pull the fancy cultured bitch card.”

Kristen stayed silent, watching her. “Touché,” she said finally as she stood and made her way to the door. “Speaking of locations, I heard from Gabriel.”

Eden didn’t bother to hide her surprise as they pushed through the commuters. Not once had Kristen given her a straight answer about Gabe.

“He apologized for his absence. He needs a few more days. The Fallen. He doesn’t know where they are. He wanted to be sure they don’t track him to you, so he’s keeping his distance for a bit longer. Nothing for us to do but make the best of it, right?”

“But he is coming, right?” She’d given up hope, wondered if they hadn’t been as close as she’d thought. If he’d only been her friend because of Az.

“You’re only here to learn, Eden. Your stay was never meant to be long-term. Gabriel apparently considers you his responsibility,” Kristen said. “With our time coming to an end soon, I have a new lesson for you tonight.”

“On what?” Eden asked cautiously.

“Dosing.” Kristen stepped out of the crowd streaming from the train before they reached the turnstiles. “Friendship comes with a price, and Gabriel’s price is
peril. It’s the reason I’m cautious about telling others how close Gabriel and I are, why I’m sure to keep a number of Siders storing Touch at all times. Because he cares for you, the Fallen will do whatever they can to get their hands on you. Dosing is a skill you’ll need, a way to speed up healing if you’re injured by them. That is, if you manage to get away.” Kristen rejoined the crowd, Eden following. “I’ll come for you after dinner,” Kristen said.

The knock came at dusk. Eden swung open the door.

Kristen stepped back into the hall. “Would you follow me, please?” She didn’t wait for an answer, led the way past the stairs, into the opposite wing. Midway down the hall she whisked into a room.

The boy inside jumped off the bed as they came in.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Kristen said, nudging the boy. “Eden, this is Marcus. He’s going to sacrifice his evening plans to help you with tonight’s lesson.” She leaned over the kid’s shoulder, grinning.

Eden switched her attention to Marcus. His eyes were locked on her, unbearably long eyelashes fluttering with his spastic blinks. He looked near tears.

She hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with any of the other Siders in the time she’d been there. Her meals were set outside her room, announced with a knock and a scurry of departing footsteps. When she left, she traveled
with Kristen. The fear in Marcus’s eyes caught her off guard. How different did Kristen act around them to make them so terrified of her?

“Shall we begin?” Kristen’s eyes danced as she dropped her hands to his shoulders. Marcus shuddered.

Kristen positioned the two of them sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing each other.

“Like a virus, Touch needs to be spread, and it can’t do so without an able host. We’re immortal, but injuries do occur, and Touch doubles as our own brand of Neosporin. Your body will use it to heal faster.”

As she spoke, she circled around them, each one tighter than the last.

“If you’re injured, and someone can pass you a dose of Touch, it can get you back on your feet in half the time.” She dropped down beside them, turning to Eden. “I’m going to demonstrate on Marcus, and then you two will practice on each other.”

Kristen swayed forward before Marcus had a chance to react. Her mouth slammed against his, her hand curling around the back of his head, pulling him to her. Eden balked. Kissing? A second later Kristen pulled away, wiping the back of her hand across her lips. Marcus’s lashes fluttered in shock.

“Hold out your arm,” she commanded. She shot Eden a pointed glance. “Drop his glamour.”

A cold sweat broke across Eden’s skin. Kristen had never seen her without her glamour before the immunity had kicked in. A trickle of unease wormed into Eden’s stomach. “Won’t he be immune to me?”

Kristen scoffed. “Not unless you’ve been making secret friends behind my back.” She raised an eyebrow. Eden caught the subtle shift, the way Kristen zeroed in on her hesitation. “Certainly that’s not the case.”

Eden sucked in a breath, leaning forward, swiping him with a finger and pulling away before the kid touched her back. His cheeks sunk, dark patches of rot breaking out across his neck, the tendons underneath tight over bone.

Kristen smiled, satisfied. “Of course, Marcus isn’t injured, so if I leave him this way the Touch inside him will begin to settle. It will feel the same as it would had it built up. Only there will be no slow adjustment. Every moment worse than the last.” She put a hand to his cheek, pulling down to get a better glimpse of his terrified eyes. “Which is why I’ll be taking my dose back.”

He tipped forward, brushing his lips against hers. When he pulled away again, he kept his eyes down. Only Eden witnessed the quiet victory in Kristen’s smile, how she relished manipulation.

“See? Easy as pie,” Kristen said. “There’s a small window of time before your own body begins to react to the
Touch inside you, when there is no pain, none of the normal effects of letting it build.”

Kristen stood, striding to the door. “Now practice,” she commanded, closing it behind her.

“That was a little messed up,” Eden said, hoping to kill some of the tension. Marcus gave her a ghost of a grin. “What’d it feel like?”

“The power of it…It’s crazy.” His smile faltered. “If I pass to you, you’ll give it back, right?”

“Trust me, if it’s as much of a pain in the ass to store as Kristen says, I want no part of it.” Eden held her breath in anticipation as he scooted closer.

“Here we go,” he whispered. His lips barely touched hers before he pulled away.

Eden’s lips tingled. “That’s it?”

“That’s
it
?” He stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t feel it?”

“Maybe you did it too fast. Should we try it again?”

“Again? But I gave you everything I had. You don’t feel anything?” Marcus dropped his hands into his lap, straining toward her. “That’s impossible. You’re lying.”

The venom in his words caught her off guard.

“I’m not a liar. Do you want your dose back or not?” She reached down, grabbed his shirt to yank him forward. Her lips were suddenly only a few inches from his.

“Hurry up.” His breathing was almost frantic.

Eden sighed hard as she leaned forward. “I
am
.”

Before she could pass the dose back, Marcus tipped to the side. She didn’t have time to react, to catch him before his face collided with the floor. A stab of pain shot up her arms from wrists to elbows.

Eden froze. “Hey. You okay?” Marcus wasn’t moving. Eden leaned closer. His eyes were half open, rolled back into his head. “Kristen!” she screamed, scooting away. She sat in shock as footsteps pounded down the hall, her arms throbbing, the feeling spreading to her shoulders.

“What happened?” Kristen asked before she’d even made it into the room. She grabbed Eden by the arm and hauled her up.

“I don’t know,” Eden stuttered, trying to get her feet under her. “He passed me the dose and I was going to pass it back and…”

“He’s not…” Kristen stared at Marcus, the anger in her face fading into shock. “No, that’s impossible.” She stepped back from Eden, yanking her hands away. “You killed him. How?” she demanded. Her attention traveled to the open door.

Adam peeked around the threshold, confusion in his eyes as he took in the scene—Marcus on the floor, Kristen moving away from the body. Eden opened her mouth, the plea for help barely formed and not yet spoken when Kristen cut her off.

“Close the door. Tell no one,” she said to Adam.

Without so much as a glance at Eden, he pulled it shut. The sudden swing sent a draft across the floor. As the air rushed past, the body burst into ash.

Eden choked in a breath before she could stop herself. Grit caught in her teeth, gagging her as she tried not to swallow. Kristen’s shoes scratched across the wooden floor as she backpedaled. Gray flakes settled onto her toes when she stopped. Their mouths hung open in silent horror.

Kristen’s paralysis broke first. She went for the knob, her hand digging into the pocket sewn into her dress.

“No!” Eden realized what was happening too late. Kristen had already opened the door, slammed it shut again behind her, sending the ashes airborne. Eden’s hand covered her mouth, keeping them out even as it held her scream in. She heard the lock click.

A
ll she needed was one loose screw. Eden slipped her fingernail into the groove in the metal and wrenched it with a sharp twist.
You killed him.
Her nail snapped. She ripped it off with her teeth and went back to the doorknob, lining up the next finger.
You killed that boy.
One loose screw and the other screws would give a bit and she’d be able to take the whole fucking doorknob off, lock and all.
He’s dead.
Snap.

She searched the room again, emptying the dresser onto the floor, tossing the drawers aside. What she wouldn’t give for a goddamned screwdriver. Anything with an edge thin enough or sturdy enough to help.

“Fuck!” Eden screamed, kicking the door. Her throat was dry, the words breaking out strangled. Eden heard a voice booming down the hall outside the locked door. She pressed herself against the door, as far from the drift of ashes as she could get, sliding around the perimeter of
the room before she sunk to the floor. “Oh God, I killed him,” she whispered, rocking, her arms wrapped around her head.

She couldn’t move, didn’t lift her head when she heard the key turn and the door open.

A rush of footsteps shuddered to a stop just inside the room. Only one set kept running. She flinched, even as the arm encircled her.

“Damn it, Kristen. What happened?” The arm around her tightened.

Her brain stalled out at the voice, the gears grinding to a halt. Her head snapped up.

“Gabe!” He pulled back to look at her, using his sleeve to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He sounded calm, gentle, but his eyes gave him away, the irises a rusty crimson.

“Kristen, what happened?” he asked without turning around.

“You tell me, Gabe,” Kristen demanded, her voice a quiet threat. “I bought your whole ‘best hands’ speech, and how the Fallen would be after her if they knew, because of Az. But clearly, there’s more to this story than you’re telling.”

Gabe picked up Eden and pushed past Kristen, giving the ashy outline on the floor a wide berth. She followed them down the hall. “She killed one of mine. Killed him!”

She shook her head, as if not quite believing it herself.

“I didn’t mean it,” Eden started to say again, but he raised a gentle hand to her cheek, silencing her.

“Kristen,” Gabe whispered. “Give me a few more days.”

“Not a chance.”

Eden dared a glance. Kristen was shaking.
She’s scared of me.
The thought bounced around her head, refusing to settle into logic. Kristen’s unflappable exterior had cracked wide open.

“Where is her room?” he asked. “I need to get her settled.” He emphasized the last word. Kristen huffed, storming down the hall. Eden heard her boots clamoring down the stairs. Aside from the sound, the house seemed empty. Every door along the corridor was shut. Eden wondered if the others hid behind them, if they knew. Were they cowering from her the way they cowered from Kristen?

“Sweetheart? Can you tell me where your room is?”

“Past the stairs. The door is open.” She pulled her head off his shoulder, staring at him. “Where have you been?” Her voice came out stronger than she thought it would.

Gabe didn’t answer until he’d rounded the corner, set her down on the bed.

“Eden, what happened in there?”

“I don’t know.” Her heart hammered as she trembled against the pillows.

From Kristen’s room down the hall drifted the scent of cloves. Close on its heels came the sound of a hushed argument, a male voice. From the way his jaw tightened, Gabe seemed to hear more than she could. He crossed the room, closed the door. His hand hovered near the knob as if he were looking for a way to lock it from the inside, before he gave up.

“What’re they saying?” Gabe didn’t answer. The words built up, clustered against her tongue before they escaped in a rush. “What are they gonna do? Gabe?”

“Are you comfortable?” His forced smile unsettled her even further.

“Comfortable? No, I’m not comfortable!” Her eyes darted to the door, to the window. Maybe there was a way to climb down, to get out. “She’s gonna make me a Screamer!”

“Eden?” He put his finger under her chin, tipping up her head. She met his eyes.

Az had told her about the trick, how Gabe could use his gaze to calm people. It struck her as a stupid ability, useless. Especially since it only worked if the person it was being used on was open to being calmed down. But as the connection took hold, suddenly everything seemed distant, silly. A smile wound across her lips. Even as it happened, she knew it was out of place, that it was the wrong reaction, but it just felt like it needed to be there.

“Better?” He pulled back, watching her.

She nodded, her head full of cotton.

“Eden, can you close your eyes for me?” She let them slip shut, the outside world falling away. The dark was nice. “What happened down the hall? Can you walk me through it?”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t form the words, hadn’t realized she’d held her own hands out until Gabe’s slipped into hers. “Don’t touch me!” Her voice came out slow and lethargic, didn’t have the panic she felt as she forced her eyes open.

“No, it’s fine, I promise. Touch doesn’t work on me. See?” He reached forward, grabbing her hand again. There was no glow, no passing of Touch. She was shaking, the effect of his eyes, the calmness, wearing thin as she closed her eyes again.

“He fell apart,” she choked out.

Someone slammed against the door. Eden jumped, coming out of her stupor enough to hear Kristen’s protest, Gabe’s whispered curse. The door opened.

Impossible.

So impossible, but he smiled and it was his smile. Not someone who looked like him, not a mistake. His smile. Him. Alive.

“Az?” she whispered.