A Touch Mortal

Chapter 41





Snowflakes melted on the window of the cab, headlights flicked kaleidoscopes of shadows and glare, but Eden didn’t see any of it.

She heard Libby’s voice change, but only as a distant hum of confusion.

For a block, she leaned against the window, but the cold leeched through the glass. She dropped back onto the worn vinyl, tried to push Luke’s last line out of her mind.

How did you die? The cocky insistence in it. Her mind drifted back to the night in the hotel. Luke had been implying something. What if I didn’t do it? she thought. What if Az did? He’d faked the fall or faked being hurt. But how would Az have known she’d run to the beach? If he wanted her dead, why didn’t he just do it in the room? It couldn’t be true. Only manipulation. Az had gone through with his elaborate plan because she had to do it herself. Suicide was her fate.

He was scared, though. Worried about the Fallen hurting her.

When the cab stopped she exited, then moved up the stairs. She didn’t wait for Libby to pay the driver.

A voice called as she slid her key into the door, and she fell out of the trance enough to know to wait.

“Jesus, Eden. You almost blew it!” Libby hissed. Eden stared at her blankly. “Clothes?” she reminded her, sweeping a hand over the short skirt she most certainly hadn’t been seen leaving the apartment in. “What happened? What’s wrong with you?” Libby asked when they’d made their way to the alley. Eden blinked slowly, sliding her jeans over the skirt, tucking it into the legs so it didn’t bunch.

“Nothing,” Eden said quickly, leading the way around the corner and through the entrance. In the stairwell their footfalls echoed, collapsing over one another, complicating with each flight.

At the apartment door, Libby slid her hand over the keyhole before Eden had a chance to unlock it. Eden didn’t speak, just stared at the door. Her fingers held the key, waiting.

Eden forced herself to look at her.

“God, you’re like a zombie.” Libby searched her face. “You better at least fake something. If you go in like this…What’s going on, Eden?”

“I’m fine,” she said. Libby hesitated and then finally stepped back toward the door.

Eden twisted the key and opened it.

Adam sat stiffly at one end of the couch. On the other end, as far from him as possible, Az turned, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his knees. Even she could feel the tension between the two.

“You’re back,” Adam sighed in relief, getting to his feet. “How was the movie?”

There was a second of silence before Libby covered for her, bubbling out some current box office plot she’d Googled earlier. Hours ago she’d made Eden memorize the details. Now there was nothing.

“Eden?” Adam asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Yeah?” she said, trying to force herself to smile.

“So you had a good time, then?” Adam asked. The way he said it, she knew it hadn’t been the first time. Maybe not even the second.

“Was the movie any good?” The voice was calm and strong, reassuring, until she realized Adam’s lips hadn’t moved. He was talking to her.

She looked around the room. Az was on the couch, and the light burning under Jarrod’s door gave away his location. “Is Gabe here?” she asked.

Az laughed. “No, we’re totally in the clear. No worries.” He smiled at her. Eden cringed before she could flick the veil of a smile back into place.

“No worries,” she echoed. The two words hummed darkly. She could taste them, coppery and bitter, when she opened her mouth to speak.

She hesitated, trying not to look at him, knowing it made her look guilty. He’d twisted to face her, the bowl of popcorn settling in a tilt on his thigh. A few of the kernels drifted into the crack between the cushions. Az letting her go through with her death, doing what would happen anyway…. It was wrong, but it wasn’t murder. When she’d woken up at Kristen’s, her clothes had been damp. He lied, screwed up, Eden thought. He wouldn’t kill me. I drowned. She imagined Az, holding her under the water, swallowed hard at the thought of his hands around her throat. In her mind, he laughed as she fought underneath him. Enjoyed it. No, Eden demanded, forcing the image away.

“Thanks, Libby. I really needed it,” she said, keeping her tone light and grateful. “But I’m gonna let her fill you guys in. I’m beat.” She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Her imagination clicked into overdrive, visions of Az pummeling her in a rage. He’s never been violent with me. Never. Luke was just trying to f*ck with my head.

The girl was babbling before Eden had even closed her bedroom door. The heavy wood cut her voice off mid-tangent, something about pasta and chocolate cake.

Her blood hissed against her temples, empty static. The room was too quiet. She opened the window just a crack to let the far-off sounds of the traffic in, but it hardly helped.

Standing in front of her nightstand, she opened the drawer. Inside, the portrait of her and Az sat on top of receipts and loose change. She thought about throwing it out the window, even craved the sound the shattering glass would make as it hit the asphalt. Instead, she tossed it into the closet, telling herself she hadn’t deliberately aimed for the pile of clothes in the corner, and stretched out on top of the covers.

Could it have been him? She stared up at the canopy above her, counting the holes in the lacy material. Think it through. Prove it to yourself. What happened that night? Me and Az were on the balcony. He went over. Hit. Even now, knowing it was an act, she felt sick. And then what? Running down the stairwell. Lobby. Boardwalk. Everything after was hazy, darker the further past sunset her mind reached. I was on the beach. I told Gabe to leave. I was alone on the beach.

Cold air drafted through the screen and past her. She held her muscles taut, not allowing herself to shiver. She made each inhale a sharp sip, let the air out far too slow.

Her temples ached from the concentration. I was alone on the beach. And then… Eden gasped. Her eyes shot open. The sound of a footstep. Muffled by the sand, but loud enough to be heard, loud enough that she’d turned. Someone had been there.

Stars prickled her vision. She sucked a shaky breath, looped the memory, and played it over again in her head. The footstep—she started to turn and then, nothing. Had it been Gabe coming back to check on her?

No. Her heart ached. Please be wrong, she thought. Az couldn’t hurt me like that.

Another image fought its way up. Az here, in the kitchen. She remembered the way he’d gripped the spatula, his knuckles white. Sometimes your brain shuts out the bad stuff. She’d thought he was talking about her nightmare.

Luke’s words shimmered behind her closed eyelids. Violent tendencies. You of all people would know that, Eden.