A Touch Mortal

Chapter 12





Eden 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.”

“And what about you? What do you do?”

“Not that.”

“You don’t seem like the type to care. I mean, you gave her too much Touch and it made her crash.” Kristen’s head snapped up, the movement so sudden that Eden jumped.

“I did nothing of the sort. I didn’t lay a finger on her.”

“So what happened to her?” Eden asked. The line in front of them had run through. Kristen closed the gap, kneeling down in front of the coffin. Eden copied her, glancing around uncomfortably.

“Obituary said car accident.” Kristen fell silent, her lips moving in prayer.

Eden stared at the girl, found herself feeling sad for all the plans she’d put off for “maybe someday” that had died with her. There was a makeup line just below her ear, the hideous purple of a bruise showing through.

Kristen rose from her knees. Eden followed when she backtracked past the people lined up behind them and toward the front door. Paul opened it for them. Kristen shot him a wink before traipsing down the stairs at the end of the walk, heading back toward her home.

“What was the point? Paying your last respects?”

Kristen dug for the silver case again, lighting another clove.

“If we’re going to spend our day with these little girl chats, Eden, do learn to pay more attention. Her family has a crypt. Yes, they’re usually easy to get into, but I still like to check out the merchandise before I expend the energy.” She exhaled another cloud of smoke. It drifted into Eden’s path. “Jewelry was costume. Dress was hardly noteworthy. Black cocktail is so cliché. I just saved myself the trouble of finding out the hard way. As I said, research pays.”

Eden’s head twisted as she reassessed Kristen’s dress, the antique rings adorning her fingers. “You’re telling me you rob graves?”

“Nine times out of ten, the dead wear designer, and I’m on a budget.” She rolled her eyes at Eden’s hanging jaw. “Oh, honestly. I wash them.”

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re boring. You sounded much more interesting when Gabe was begging for my help.”

Eden shifted out of the path of the smoke blowing in her direction, didn’t give Kristen the satisfaction of a cough.

“How is Gabe even friends with you? How do you know him?”

“You really want to know?” Kristen kept her eyes ahead, threading her fingers through her hair. She hesitated. “I guess I can bore you with a history lesson. There were no others when I became a Sider, at least not that I knew.” Kristen toyed with one of her rings. “Unlike you, I woke up on a park bench, not in a bed. Vodka and pills. I assumed it hadn’t been enough, figured it would be best to head home and face my father’s wrath.” Kristen’s gaze had gone far off. “It was an office, my room. It hadn’t been an office when I’d left a few hours before. None of my notebooks, no school portraits. Like I never existed. I thought he was trying to scare me for breaking curfew. For a long time, I thought it was just an amazingly creative way of kicking me out. Truth was, I don’t exist to them. They have no memory of me.” Her fingers trailed along the shrubs lining the sidewalk, separating the manicured yards from the street. “Now you understand why I wasn’t willing to show you to a phone last night.”

Eden’s voice came out a whisper. “Did Gabe forget about me? Is that why he hasn’t come?”

“Mortals forget us because we’re not part of their path. We don’t have one. Neither do angels. He remembers you just fine.” Kristen dropped the clove, crushed it with her next step. “I found a cemetery, slept on a pew in its chapel. I had to figure out for myself that I felt better when I touched people. I wasn’t doing so well in those days. Reality and I had a bit of a tiff. I ended up living in that chapel for two years.” A wistful smile hinted at her lips. “Two years of utter hell, ended, when they walked through the door.”

“They? I thought you said it was Gabe?”

“Your little deviant was with him, of course.” She glanced down at her hand as if wishing for the cigarette to still be there. “I tried to hit them up with Touch.” Eden’s jaw dropped. “Oh, relax. Angels are immune to fingertips.” She swallowed hard. “Gabe told me he knew of others, though I was the first of our kind he spoke to. He fixed things for me.”

They turned up the walkway to Kristen’s house. Kristen jangled her keys as she walked through the door and Sebastian appeared like Pavlov’s dog. “I don’t do well with debt. I’ve owed Gabriel too much for too long, but he broke the bank with you, sweet pea.”

Eden tried to keep the pleading from her voice. “I don’t understand what I’m doing here.”

“I gave him my word that I would teach you what I know, as little as it is. You will have a roof over your head, food, anything you need. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.”

“And then what?” Eden asked.

Kristen smiled. “Why, Eden. If I told you, it’d spoil the surprise.”