A Touch Morbid (13 page)

J
udging by the girl scowling on the matching twin bed beside him, Jarrod would be in for a long night. He glanced at the cracked clock radio on the nightstand between them. Three hours ago he’d thumbed the volume all the way down on his phone, turning off even the vibrate. First he’d fix this, get Sullivan through the dose, and then they’d go to Eden. It’d be better to face her wrath than show up with a mortal on Touch.

It’d been four hours. From what he knew, it should have taken effect by now. The real reason he hadn’t called Eden, he didn’t even want to admit to himself. He wouldn’t screw up again. Not like he had with trusting Libby. If Sullivan was a spy and he brought her to Eden, he’d never forgive himself. He had to be sure.

He snuck a quick once-over of her.

“Like what ya see, Tiger?” she asked, her eyes never straying from the television screen.

He felt himself flush. “You feel anything yet?”

“Yeah,” she said, rolling over toward him on her pillow. “I feel bored as hell.”

He crossed his legs Indian style on the bed. Bored wasn’t good. Bored was a first-class ticket to contemplating life, and contemplating life, especially from the few hints he’d picked up from Sullivan about her past, would be a one-way ticket out the window. Quite handy since they were on the goddamned fifth floor. He’d already closed the curtains, unplugged the hair dryer in the bathroom and hid it in the closet, and made her give him her half-full bottle of aspirin.

“So, we’ll get unbored. What do you do? Like, for fun?”

She smirked. “I steal Touch from strangers. If it’s a super-stellar night, I somehow end up getting babysat by said stranger in my shitty hotel room.” After clicking through a few more fuzzy channels, she bounded off the other bed. “I can’t sit here all night.”

“Where are you going?” he asked as she pulled on her coat.

She reached for his hand like she was going to drag him with her. He had gloves on, not trusting her enough to take them off, but she stopped herself shy and turned away. “Come with me if you want, but I’m going for a walk.”

He stared at her. “It’s freezing out. And last I checked it was still snowing.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind. Stay here if you’re going to whine.”

“I’m not whining,” he said. “I’m stating facts.”

“So am I. It is a fact that you asked me what I like to do.” Her tone shifted, drifting further from sarcasm with each word until it was almost a dreamy slur. “I like to walk. I like snow.”

“Sullivan?” Jarrod uncrossed his legs, standing. She turned to him, the apples of her cheeks blushed pink. Her eyes danced over his, her smile blossoming so bright it seemed to infuse her whole body instead of staying on her lips.

“You care what happens to me.” She spun like a ballerina through the center of the room, her gasp full of wonder. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Jarrod stalled with a half smile, not sure how to answer. Sullivan twirled away the space between them. Her hand curled across the back of his neck.

Jarrod didn’t move.

She mirrored him, holding perfectly still, the grin frozen on her lips—lips close enough to his that he should have been worried, should have been jerking away.

“You.” Her fingers flexed against his skin, the word a single breathy exhale. “I want to see beautiful things with you.”

He didn’t say anything. It was like his brain suddenly decided it wanted to opt out of this one. He barely knew the girl, and she was high on Touch. Plus, it wasn’t safe, not with Luke and the Bound both hunting around for Siders now. But…

“Okay,” he said cautiously. She’d taken the dose good. The worry had melted from her eyes, tension lines between her eyebrows fading. “What kind of beautiful things?” he asked.

She let go of his neck.

“Snow!” she said over her shoulder, grabbing his coat off the bed and handing it to him. “We’ll start with the snow!”

She squealed as she reached the door, breaking into a run. He sped up, tearing down the hall after her to the emergency stairs. Her laugh echoed as she slammed through the door hard enough to bang it against the cement wall behind it. The crash reverberated down the stairwell. Her eyes widened to almost comical proportions, her mouth a wide O of delight. “Think they’ll come yell at us?”

He turned sideways and hopped on the metal railing. “Luckily,” he said conspiratorially, “I’m kick-ass at escapes.” He let go, sliding, his legs kicked out for balance. Sullivan bounded past him to the landing and held her arms up like she’d catch him. His hands hit her shoulders, momentum spinning them both in a circle.

This close, he could smell lotion or perfume, her scent summery and wild. Her eyes shot to the exit, back to him. She held out her hand.

“You and me?” she asked.

He looked at her hand, raised his head to meet her eyes. She looked like she really did want him with her. So what if it was the Touch?

The happier she is, the better she’ll get through it
. He grabbed her hand, working his gloved fingers between her bare ones. Sullivan smiled, stepped back, and pushed the door open.

Just for tonight
, he thought fiercely.
Only because it’ll help her
.

The crisp air stole his breath as they came out into a back parking lot. Giant snowflakes fell all around them, everything covered in white, sparkling under the domed lights.

She wrapped her arm around his, sticking out her tongue to catch a flake as her head dropped to his shoulder, their steps synchronized as they walked. He laughed, blinking melted snowflakes from his lashes.

“I have an idea,” Sullivan said, lifting her head from his shoulder. She untangled her arm. On the snow-covered asphalt of an empty parking spot, she flopped onto her back. A few scrapes and she’d made a perfect snow angel. She smiled at him, seemed completely unaware of the absurdity of lying in a parking lot, giggling like mad. “Your turn!”

Jarrod cast a glance around them, not quite ready to let down his guard. No one. No angels or Siders or mortals.

Only him and Sullivan.

She laughed as he dropped down beside her, flapped his arms and legs twice in a token effort. He sat up and glanced back at the blank spot his head had left. With his gloved hands he scooped up some snow, rolling out two tiny balls. He plunked them down where his eyes should have been.

Sullivan clapped. “Look who’s coming around!” she said appreciatively. She added eyes to her own, then pointed at their matching masterpieces. “Our wings are touching!”

Jarrod glanced at Sullivan, only meaning to shoot her a smile, but his eyes wouldn’t leave her. Her happiness changed her, brightened her cheeks and eyes, bringing out something in her he hadn’t seen before. Suddenly he got it—why she searched out Siders, why nothing mattered more than finding the next hit of Touch. For a perfect second, he got it. Being able to go for it, say what you wanted, live for the moment… A rush of adrenaline surged through him.

“Sullivan,” he said, his voice wavering. “You’re beautiful.” Before the words even left him, self-consciousness flared up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

The snow creaked, packing underneath her knees as she moved closer. Her arms were around him, hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Why would you say such a nice thing and then try to take it away?”

He didn’t answer, wasn’t sure what to say.

“You should kiss me.” She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his chin. He closed his eyes, couldn’t risk her seeing the disappointment in them.

“I can’t.” He felt her smile against his skin.

“You can,” she said lightly.

“Sullivan, I can’t do this.” He didn’t know what would happen, if it was safe. Eden and Az flashed through his mind. But Az was an angel trying not to Fall and Sullivan was a girl. A mortal girl. A girl whose hands were around his neck, pulling him closer.

And he couldn’t pull away.

Her lips hit his. He moaned, the sound surging out of him even as he realized it wasn’t because he’d passed Touch, that there was no numb tingle, that it was because of her. He broke out in goose bumps. She giggled and pulled away enough to speak.

“You’re cold,” she said. “We should go in. To the room.”

“I don’t think that’s—” She held a finger to his lips. He tried to say it again and she kissed him into silence, her finger still pressed between their lips.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with giving in. Just once.

He helped her up, not paying attention to anything but her. “Okay,” he said quickly, knowing if he thought about it he’d lose his nerve, lose the moment. “Okay.”

They ran through the lot, to the back entrance. A second passed while she fished in her pocket for the pass key and he almost thought he should pull away, but then she pressed him against the wall, her mouth greedy on his, her hand blindly fumbling beside them, slipping the plastic card through the slot.

They stumbled up the stairs, through the door, stripping off their coats, dropping them as their hands roamed, tugged, unbuttoned.

Jarrod grabbed her wrist. “You’re… Are you?” Sullivan only laughed.

“I’m sure, and I am more than okay.” She ran her finger across his waistline. “How about you? Still with me?”

He knew it was partly Touch talking. But Touch didn’t make people unaware of what they were doing, just amped up desires already there, hidden away. It cracked open the bottled parts. And maybe, right now, that wasn’t a bad thing. He couldn’t let her slip away, didn’t want it to end.

So he nodded, kissed her again, and let his thoughts stop.

P
edestrians streamed past, slamming into Eden, oblivious to her distress. “He’s gone.” Az’s hand was on her back, comforting her. “Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“We’ll find him,” Az promised. Eden yanked her hands through her hair, searching faces in the crowd.

When Jarrod hadn’t answered his phone, she’d told herself not to panic. Talked herself out of checking up on him. Half an hour after he was supposed to be home, she’d called Zach and found out Jarrod had left his shift early, something about a girl looking for Eden. The description hadn’t matched any Siders Eden knew, but it had matched the strange girl he’d pointed out at Milton’s yesterday.

“Luke has another Sider. She killed Jarrod. I know it.” Her stomach cramped. She stopped, leaning against a building. “He’ll send me his ashes.” Another pain shot through her. “I can’t … get my breath,” she choked out before her throat spasmed shut.

Az’s arm came around her hip, holding her up. She sucked in a gulp of air, coughing and blinking hard. Her eyes stung, watering as if they were full of grit, but cleared enough to see Az’s concern. “Are you all right?”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of black across it. She wasn’t sure she could get her voice to work without setting off her coughing again, settled for nodding.

“You’re going to call Madeline,” he said. Before the name fully left him she was already shaking her head, but he went on, wiping her dripping eyes with his thumb. “Call Madeline and tell her what’s going on. She’s got a whole crew of Siders living with her. She wants you to take out Vaughn. Offer her that in exchange for a search party.”

She didn’t even know if Madeline would come after last night. But if anything could bring her, it was Eden giving her word about Vaughn. Eden broke into a sob and Az tucked her against his shoulder. “I don’t want to send him Downstairs.”

“If you had to choose between him and Jarrod?” She tensed, and he murmured soothingly in her ear before he went on. “Eden, you have something she wants. She will help you. Call her.”

Madeline met them in front of Milton’s. Within an hour, she’d gathered a list of places where Jarrod was both most and least likely to be found and dispatched her troops. Eden had spent the time silent, sure every moment that Madeline would bring up last night, parts of her warring about whether it mattered. All she wanted was for Jarrod to be found safe.

“You know where Luke hangs out. You’ll check those, too?” Az asked.

Madeline shot him a patronizing glare and then pointed past him to the last five of the twenty Siders she’d blazed into Manhattan trailing. “You and you,” she said to two beautiful waiflike girls. “Aerie. Get backstage. Check the back lot. Use any means necessary.” They left without a word and she went on to the boys, pointing at them one by one. “Stay at Milton’s. Jackson, go to the warehouse. Concentrate on the roof and the basement.” Eden realized which warehouse she referred to, the one Luke had held Az captive in, and a sorrowful sound broke from her. If Madeline heard, she didn’t react. “You,” she said to the last slip of a boy. “Kristen’s. Take the back stair, check only Kristen’s room, and mind Sebastian. Do not get caught.”