A Touch Mortal

Chapter 18





(Two Months Later)





Eden reached blindly for her phone and shut off her alarm as she crawled out of bed. The curtains covering the window blocked the morning light, but she crossed to the door without turning on the lamp. She’d memorized her room enough to make her way.

The apartment was quiet. Adam slouched on the couch. He glanced up as she entered and nodded hello before lowering the monitor of the laptop balanced on his legs.

“Scoot,” Eden mumbled, still half asleep. He threw himself over a few feet on the beat-up couch, pulling the blanket with him, not even offering a corner. Apparently, mornings weren’t for sharing.

“A*shole.” She ran the zipper up on her hooded sweatshirt and plopped down. “Anybody else up?” she asked, combing the tangles out of her hair with her fingers. The door to the boys’ room was closed. A two-bedroom apartment had been more than enough for just her and Adam. Then Jarrod and Adam had shared. No one had objected when she’d pulled the girl card and insisted on her own space. Two weeks ago, when they’d added James to the mix, things had moved from crowded to crash pad. The whole hallway smelled like a dorm room.

“You know Jarrod. He’s either up by seven or comatose till noon. James wasn’t moving around yet when I came out here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously, he needs the sleep. Hissy fits burn up a lot of energy.”

“Don’t do that.”

Eden yanked at a chunk of her bangs, separating one of the hot pink highlights. She still wasn’t used to the cut, the strands tapering off near her ears.

“What do you want me to do, just stand by and watch him suffer? He looks like a f*cking zombie half the time.” James had passed the easy stage, where Touch only had to be passed once or twice a day. By now, he should have been hitting up at least five. Instead he was being a child. Refusing.

“Look, he’s rough. No denying that. I’m surprised he’s been able to resist spreading it this long. But he’s a kid, Eden. Eventually, he’s gonna break. He’ll start passing, get used to it. He’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like you can force him.”

Eden yanked herself up off the couch and headed for the door. What to do with James? The question plaguing them all week.

“I’ll be back in half an hour. Wake him up and tell him to get his ass ready. He’s passing today.”

She shrugged on her black peacoat as she took the stairs. Peering through the little window beside the security door, she kept herself just out of view. On the stairs of the apartment building, five Siders were already waiting for her, gloved up and a cautious distance apart. To the morning rush of pedestrians, they would have been chalked up as street kids. Eden knew better. A swipe of her fingertips on their skin would drop their façade and show the truth.

Five today. It had never been so many.

“Time to greet the fan club.” Eden sighed as she twisted the knob.

The security door clicked shut behind her. She tucked the key into the pocket of her coat and turned to face them. Their whispers, snippets of “has to be the one” and “right where she was supposed to be,” intensified as they caught sight of her. The Siders began showing up a few days after she and Adam had taken off from Kristen’s, even before they’d managed to scrounge up enough money to get an apartment.

“Where who said I’d be?” she demanded. “Who sent you?” She knew they wouldn’t answer. No one ever did.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” The one who spoke up couldn’t have been more than twelve. “That you breathe death?” He stared at her, taking her in like some kind of urban legend come to life. She didn’t need Touch to tell they were new, all of them.

“Please? You can, right?” His body shook with need. Eden’s anger melted, the last of her resolve faltering as it always did. She could never turn them away. Not when she was the only one who could end their suffering.

“The least you could do is show up post coffee,” she suggested. The boy tilted his head. Eden gave up on the sarcasm, holding out a resigned hand. “Do you have it?” she asked, knowing they would. The tattooed one dropped a ball of crumpled bills into her palm. “This for all of you?” He nodded. She didn’t bother to count it. All two hundred and fifty would be there. She hadn’t set the price, though they’d always offered the same amount.

The Siders fell in behind her, following blindly as she led them into the alley. Some mornings she was tempted to do a little sidestep shuffle, a jig maybe, just to see if they’d copy. Today wasn’t one. She wasn’t smiling as she turned to face them.

The youngest led the pack. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Even in the cold, he reeked of desperation. She focused on him, letting the others fade into the background. Her hand hovered near his cheek. She brushed the sweaty hair from his temples with a black-polished fingernail. Reaching down, she took his hands in hers.

“Stay still, okay?” She meant to reassure him, adding a measure of kindness to her voice, but when he moved to speak, she lowered her red tinted lips to within a millimeter of his mouth, completing the circuit. Her timing was well practiced and perfect.

A sharp exhale propelled her breath into him. Her hands tightened their grip on his. For a span of two heartbeats, she thought it wouldn’t take, that she was free, no longer their only out. But then his eyes spiraled back into his head as her breath did its work. Her palms blazed and itched as his Touch became hers. She closed her eyes and clamped down on her lip as the burning spread up her arms, tingling flames across her collarbones.

One by one, she emptied them of Touch. The bodies fell as empty shells, their power now hers.

A breeze from the next passing taxi, even the vibration from its tires on the asphalt, would scatter what was left of them into nothing.

Eden looked up, shading her eyes from the sunlight. She’d never been able to make anything out after the act, no light, no choir of angels. No hellfire either. If they were really dying, they went in silence without so much as a clue. Though it would have been nice to know what happened to them, being pathless, she knew it wasn’t an answer likely to come from above. Still, the glance had become habit.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she sighed, pulling a twenty from the roll of bills. She pocketed the rest and headed through the alley, around the corner to Milton’s.

Even if there were no answers, just once she wished one of them would stick around long enough to say thanks.