A Touch Morbid (18 page)

“Yes!” She choked it out, a final plea before she drowned in her fear.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he said.

He squeezed.

Screaming lines of sound rushed through her skull like a current toward Luke’s hands at the back of her neck. Her vision tunneled. The pitch rose, glass-shattering frequencies whizzing past the insides of her ears. Burning, sizzling sounds, dizzy tightness. Kristen gasped, the pressure turning to pain.

“Almost there.” Luke’s voice found her through the cacophony. “Hang on for me.”

She clutched his wrists. “Luke, it hurts.”

“Now,” he said.

His fingers dug a line up the back of her head, each fingertip feeling like a splash of frigid water. Her ears popped as the pressure released. The pain burst and broke open, faded.

Silence.

Blessed silence. Luke brushed her hair back, surprisingly gentle. His breaths came heavy. “Better?” he asked.

He gave her a moment to answer, took her elbow when she didn’t and helped her to the couch. She fell back against the cushions, suddenly exhausted.

“The pain is gone?” he tried again. She nodded, doing everything she could to keep the tremble from her lip.

“It was different with Gabe,” she said quietly. Gabriel had carefully untangled her mind as he slowly worked; she would have given anything to feel that care again. Luke jerked everything tight and sheared it loose. She didn’t want to think about damage.

“I hate this,” she whispered. She sounded like she hadn’t slept in days, but her brain felt sharp, clean. She felt untainted for the first time since Gabe had Fallen.
Ironic
, she thought bitterly.

Kristen closed her eyes. A moment later the faucet turned on in the kitchen. The sponge squeaked against the glasses Luke washed. She waited, but he didn’t speak. She couldn’t be sure, but part of her wondered if he’d given her the moment to recover.

The water shut off and she heard him coming back. “Why
did
you come that first night to see me play? You knew who I was.”

The memory of badass incarnate in leather and an electric guitar drifted over her. She wasn’t prepared for the light skip in her stomach.

“I’ve always known about you.” She opened her eyes, turned to look at Luke. “I came because he left me.” Gabriel’s reputation didn’t matter anymore, not that Luke would care anyway. “He wandered away like I thought he’d done this time. He always told me to call if I needed anything, but then sometimes he wouldn’t answer. Sometimes he made me feel like such a burden. I was feeling … spiteful, I suppose, and dangerous.” She gifted him a small grin as he sat beside her. “And you’re about as dangerous as they come, aren’t you?”

He laughed, pulled a knee up and balanced his chin on it. “That night.”

He shook his head, lost in the memory, every moment of their meeting etched in her own mind.

After the show, Luke had come toward her, his flock of groupies surrounding him like cliché imitations of harlots feeding grapes to a Roman god. Kristen alone hadn’t joined in on the worshipping. He snapped up the water bottle one offered, then cracked it open and drained it. Brushing away the girl’s hands with a smile, he had turned to Kristen.

“You,” he said, pointing the empty plastic in her direction. Kristen had raised an eyebrow at the possessive glares from the girls that clung to him. Luke strode forward, shaking them off like a cloud of gnats. “Who are
you
?”

“Me?” She’d slid off the stool, taking the first few steps toward the door. “I’m busy.”

The girls around him had gasped. Luke’s head had tilted, as if not quite believing what he’d heard. And then a slow grin had spread across his lips. Much to her chagrin, Kristen had returned it.

Now, though, in his apartment, the cheer faded from his face, his brow furrowing.

She couldn’t look at him, knew what he was going to ask and answered before he could. “Three months is a long time to keep a secret from Gabriel. I didn’t want him to know.”

“That’s what bothered you.” Luke sighed. “Gabriel knowing you chose
me
.”

She closed her eyes, but it only made things worse, memories playing like silent films on the backs of her eyelids. Kristen fluttered her eyes open, casting away her thoughts, but the truth haunted her whether she acknowledged it or not. Always had. In every memory of Luke, of the two of them together, she was smiling.

“I hid it from him.” He said it so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him. “So he wouldn’t see when he went into your mind.”

“I know,” she said. She didn’t ask why, wondering for the first time if maybe he did truly care for her.

His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but she shook her head. “Don’t.”

They watched each other in silence. Eventually, Kristen stood and made her way back to the window. Snowflakes tumbled past. A moment later, he joined her.

“It’s snowing again,” she said quietly.

He didn’t speak, simply ran his hands down her hair, lifted it off her back and over her shoulder. When she didn’t move away, Luke closed the last few inches separating them, his arms encircling her waist. His lips brushed her neck, rose to her ear. “I’m cashing in the favor you owe.”

Kristen tensed. “So soon?” she asked shakily. “You’re sure you don’t want to save it for a special occasion?”

He ignored her. “I want you.”

“Wait, want me?” He clearly wasn’t after a mere house-guest and it was a line Kristen wouldn’t cross, no matter what the payoff or the punishment. “Luke, you can’t ask for that.”

He turned her to face him as he caught her meaning. “Kristen, I want your favor. Your company,” he clarified before his grin grew cocky. “Though I don’t recall you finding my attentions distasteful.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to look fierce, knowing she wasn’t pulling it off. He could have asked for anything, and he’d only asked for time with her?

“For how long?” she asked carefully, trying to think of any other loopholes he could exploit.

He winked at her catch. “One week, clever girl. You’ll stay here with me.”

She laughed. “You want to play house? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m offering you a life of freedom. No more bouts of delirium. Every wish granted.” Luke smiled. “You give me a week to show you how things can be. At the end of it, you’ll choose to stay.”

“One week.” Kristen licked her lips, let the thought of the life he offered simmer for a moment. “Done,” she said, holding out her hand. He shook it. She didn’t trust his smile. “So when do we start?”

“We already have,” Luke answered.

A
z pulled a single key out of the pocket of his coat by the tattered shoelace he used as a lanyard. Jarrod followed him into the apartment building, Sullivan beside him. It was a good distance from home, far enough to be discreet but close enough that if Eden called, Jarrod could get there by cab within ten minutes. He practically sighed in relief when Az headed them down the stairs. No balconies. Sullivan seemed serious about wanting to quit, but he didn’t know if it would be like other drugs. Withdrawal. It might get ugly. One less worry after last night.

Az paused at the door. “Fair warning, we left in a hurry. Might be a bit messy.” He shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

He opened the door as he said it, but none of them were prepared for the sight. The apartment was trashed. A smashed television was overturned in the center of the living room, the couch slit alongside the back, material dangling loose in a wide arc.

“Messy’s a bit of an understatement, man.” Jarrod moved aside to let Az pass.

The apartment was frigid.

“Looks like this is how they got in,” Sullivan said, heading to the open window, sliding it shut. “Well, at least now we know we’ll be earning our keep cleaning up the place.”

“This sucks,” Az whispered, squatting down to survey the totaled television.

“Gabriel?”

Everyone froze. The voice came from down the hallway.

Sullivan stood by the window, the cord to the blinds wrapped around her hand. Jarrod didn’t know whether to cross the room to her or stay where he was. Az didn’t look at him. He’d crouched a bit, his hands out and ready to fight.

“Who is it?” Jarrod whispered. Az gave his head a slight shake, his forehead furrowed.

Jarrod shifted enough to get a look down the hallway. One of the doors was open. A shadow fell over the white carpet, cast from the light spilling out of the room.

“Who comes?” the voice called. The words sounded slightly off, as though translated from another language. Something was wrong with the actual voice, too; the slightest echo of metal against metal ended each word.

Jarrod turned to Az, confused.

Az’s eyes blazed red. Not the subtle rusty color Jarrod had seen in them when Eden pissed him off, but freaky-ass, horror-movie demon red.

“Jesus Christ,” Jarrod whispered.

From behind them, Sullivan asked, “What? Who is it?”

She couldn’t see Az’s face. “Jarrod, take her and get out of here. Go,” Az said.

Jarrod opened his mouth to protest, but the shadow had already started down the hallway.

His movements weren’t quite steps, his legs lifting like they were pulled by puppet strings, like he’d never walked before.

Az turned to Jarrod. The red was gone from his eyes. They’d shifted to almost orange as the rusty anger mixed with the yellow color of fears. “Don’t let me go
anywhere
with him,” Az said desperately. “No matter what I say.”

“Who is it?”

“Michael,” Az whispered. “Bound. The one from the other night.”

As the figure moved closer, Jarrod could see the face had angel written all over it, that carved-marble look too perfect to belong to a real person. The same dark curly hair as Az. He could have passed for his brother.

“Arrogant enough to ignore a summons, Az? How
dare
you be so defiant?” Michael stopped a few feet in front of Az.

“Be easy,” Az said, his voice strange, copying that same weird diction. “I have no allegiance. I’ve made it clear I have no interest in such. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I run this realm when the end times come to the mortals. The end times come with the Pathless ones.”

“What, so the Siders are ending the world?” Jarrod said, and regretted it instantly. Michael’s attention shifted to him and revulsion overtook his face.

“Don’t even think about it, Michael.” Az jumped in front, shoving Jarrod back. He had a hand on Michael’s chest.

“I can bring you back to glory before we burn this world,” Michael whispered.

“You can’t kill the Siders.”

“We learn.” Michael laughed, a wicked, dead drone. “Even now we watch one.”

Az’s jaw clenched. “Stay the fuck away from Eden.”

Michael edged closer. “The first strains of death claim your whore.”

Az tipped forward, fists gripped tight at his sides. Jarrod tensed, expecting him to throw a punch at Michael, but suddenly Az’s face paled. “She’s
not
dying. She can’t.”

“Such emotion! Is it because you’ve witnessed the malady yourself? The truth burns your anger so bright.” The laugh came again, and Jarrod shivered. “You falter. Choose Upstairs, Azazel.”

“I
choose
to stay
here
.” Az’s voice was hard. Jarrod kept his eyes on him, didn’t want to look at the other one.

“Use the wings!” Michael spat, drawing closer to Az.

“Never!” Az bellowed. Crackling sparks shot between his lips.

A low electrical hiss drifted out of him.

Jarrod knew the sound. It was the same noise he’d heard at the apartment when Az’s eyes went all white, right before the chittering started. Az opened his mouth, eyes rolled up a quarter of the way. They didn’t look right, like he was possessed.

Michael’s eyes had blanked out like hard-boiled eggs, light shining from inside them until they glowed, the shine seeping from his nostrils, flickering across the curls hanging over his ears. Az jerked as if he tried to pull away and couldn’t. A bulge ran down his back, fabric ripping.
The wings
, Jarrod thought.