A Touch Mortal

Chapter 11





The 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 f*cking hurt, a*shole!”

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 f*ck 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.