A Touch Mortal

Chapter 33





It was snowing as they made their way across the street. A flashing half-burnt-out marquee proclaimed the place “Aerie.” Below the name of the club, black letters spelled out:



7:30 pm six foot shovel

9 pm dawn’s supernova all ages show



“Kristen said Gabe would be at that second one.” Eden grabbed Adam’s hand as they neared the club and the crowd thickened. She left out the part where Kristen had told her it was a bad idea, that Gabe would find her if he needed her.

Outside Aerie, the sidewalk was a clustered mass of black clothes and skin paled by makeup. Next to Eden, a Goth girl squealed and clomped her eight-inch striped platforms past Adam to join a group of near clones, Manic Panic purple hair trailing behind her.

“OMG!” the girl cried, pronouncing each letter. “Can you actually believe we’re going to see DS? Singer is hot.”

Eden heard Adam scoff. She turned toward him, her eyes playful as she surveyed his light blue sweater and jeans. “Now you see what I meant by ‘restricted palette’?”

“Clearly.”

Eden laughed, tugging at the pleats of her black skirt. Her legs were covered by her usual knee-high boots, this pair laced up the side with a white ribbon. A few hot pink clips in her hair and a matching tank top hidden under her peacoat completed her outfit. No one gave her a second look, but there were more than a few whispers behind glittery black nails as Adam led the way to the double doors.

A muscled thug sat on a stool at the door, the word “Staff” ironed onto his too tight T-shirt. Even he was wearing eyeliner.

“What’s the cover?” Eden asked.

“No cover. Need tickets,” he growled, barring their way with his trunk of an arm.

“How much?”

“Sold out. Next!” Eden tilted her chin, glaring at him in frustration.

“Well, f*ck.” She spun to face the crowd, zeroing in on the first person she saw wearing gloves. “You.” She pointed her finger, stopping him. “You have tickets for this?” she asked. The kid nodded. “Two?” Another nod. “Good. I want them,” she said, digging in her pocket. “Hundred for both?”

The kid laughed. “Not a f*cking chance.”

“You’re serious?” Eden snorted. “Fine. Make it two.”

“Just forget it, Eden. We’ll do it another time.” Adam grabbed her arm as she went for her pocket again. “Jarrod…”

“Is a phone call away if he needs us,” she said, digging out the rest of the cash she carried, not bothering to keep anything for the cab ride home. “This is important, Adam.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want you to pass in here. If it gets to be too much, we can go. You ready?”

“Yes, but…”

She turned back to the boy, dropping a tightly wound tube of bills into his hand and snapping up the tickets. She handed one to Adam. “Your proof is in there. And you’re going to get it.” She smiled sweetly as she handed hers to the bouncer.

They both held out their wrists for the neon yellow wristbands reserved for the underage crowd. She swung open the heavy door, holding it for Adam to follow.

Heavy bass lines throbbed through the floor and wound up her legs. Each relentless note rattled into her lungs, ready to break her apart a particle at a time. The lights cut on and off, pulsing in time to the heartbeat of the bass drum, highlighting hundreds of arms raised and waving like tentacles. A guitar screamed chords over a techno beat so fast Eden’s heart sped up in a struggle to compete.

The lights died.

Eden froze, disoriented. Without her sight, the only sensations left offered up the scent of sweat and a collective gasp from the crowd. In that moment, when the gasp stuttered into silence, before they had time to breathe again, a voice sliced across the room. The deep baritone fell from the air around her, the guitar crying out again as the singer moaned into the microphone. No words, just an escape of pleasure.

A single spotlight shone down, but the singer crouched low. Eden rose onto her toes, trying to catch even a glimpse of him.

He stood suddenly and stepped forward to the edge of the stage, giving her a clear view as he searched the crowd, his gaze hunting prey.

Leather pants clung to his legs. Even though the stage lights had to have been searing heat down on him, he wore a long-sleeved black shirt so tight it was a second skin. His head bobbed as he flashed a grin at the drummer. Sweat flew from the drenched inky curls hanging to his shoulders. His boot counted off the beat, and he swung an arm down, silencing the drums on cue.

“Without your hideous…beautiful…” he purred, searching the crowd. With a whispered breath, he moaned, “Love.” It rolled from his lips like a promise, echoed layer after layer. Deep inside her, something shivered. “Can you love me?” he asked the crowd, prowling the stage. “Do you DARE?” The room surged forward. Screams drowned out his laughter. He held his arms out, head bowed, reveling in their reaction.

In front of Eden, a girl fainted. Two massive bouncers struggled to her. Each of them took an arm and pulled her away as if they’d been expecting it.

“Pretty good, isn’t he?”

Eden jumped at the voice, a guy next to her clapping wildly as he screamed into her ear to be heard.

“Who is he?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the stage.

“That,” he said, “is Dawn’s Supernova.”