A Touch Morbid (23 page)

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to settle for this one,” he said, sliding out from underneath her and replacing himself with the pillow he’d been using.

“How long are you going to be gone?” she murmured.

“It’s a full shift, so eight hours.” Part of him wanted to bring her with him. She could hang out and he’d know she was safe, but he knew he was being stupid. Vaughn could find her more easily at Milton’s. Anyone could. She’d be safer here. And if she was sick…

Her face was pale except for two bright burning spots of red on her cheeks.

She’s mortal. She’s going to get sick. I can’t call off for that
. If he got fired, they’d never make rent, and they were way too close anyway. He’d already cut out early once and was damn lucky his day off coincided with meeting her.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She didn’t answer. Could it be withdrawal? “Sullivan?” He leaned closer, pushing her hair back. “I gotta be there in a few minutes,” he said, but she was out again.

She’ll be fine
, he promised himself, grabbing a work shirt from his closet and tossing it on over his T-shirt. He yanked on the least wrinkled pair of khakis he could find.

Slipping out, he closed the door as quietly as he could and headed to the front door. Az sat on the couch, the television playing softly.

“Hey,” Jarrod whispered.

Az lifted a hand in response.

“Where’s Eden?”

“Not here yet.” He turned to Jarrod, his face blank. “Nothing’s gonna happen in the few minutes until she gets back to set me off.”

Jarrod shrugged into his coat. “I wouldn’t be leaving if I thought you were gonna lose it.”

Az said nothing.

“Sullivan’s… I don’t know if she’s detoxing or what, but she’s got a hell of a fever. Check on her later if she doesn’t come out?” he asked. “I think Eden freaks her out.” He slipped on his shoes, tied a quick double knot.

Jarrod raised his hand to the trim on the door, hesitating. He’d been up last night after Sullivan fell asleep, thinking about what Michael had said—how Eden smelled like fire. That Az had seen something. That he was lying. Az and Eden not talking was what had gotten them into the whole mess. If Az wasn’t going to tell her, Jarrod knew he’d have to. Not something he looked forward to.

When Az didn’t say any more, Jarrod added, “Let me know if she gets any worse.” He headed out before Az answered.

Through the window, he took a quick look around and opened the door to the street. No Siders on the stairs, but the packed-down splotches of snow gave away where they’d been. Otherwise, the cement was covered in four inches of snow.

“Damn it.” Jarrod stared down the alley. Drifts rose several feet up against one wall.

He stuck to the other side, where the snow left barely a trace, trying not to get his shoes too wet. Today would suck enough without his feet freezing the whole time.

He yanked his hood down, tried to follow the footprints Eden had left on her way to Milton’s to meet Madeline. The wind whipped by bitterly cold, spitting snow, as he trudged forward. His foot caught a patch of ice. He tried to make a grab for the wall, clawing for enough of a grip to stay upright, but ended up on his ass anyway.

“Unbelievable!” he yelled, his tailbone screaming.

A shadow darkened across him. “If I’d known you were my competition, I could’ve waited for Sullivan to wander back on her own.”

Jarrod knocked his hood back as he raised his head to whoever was above him. The guy could have passed for a
Sopranos
bit player, built wide like a jock, slicked-back black hair.
Douche bag
, Jarrod decided. The guy didn’t offer him a hand up. “That makes you Vaughn,” Jarrod guessed. “You got some balls showing up in Manhattan, man.”

Vaughn snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you’re a real hard-ass.” He leaned against the brick wall on one broad shoulder, looking amused. “See, I can tell by the way you’re sitting in the snow there.”

Jarrod got to his feet, not giving Vaughn the satisfaction of looking away.
Don’t slip. Please don’t fall
, he begged. A victory grin curled up the corner of his mouth when he made it without so much as a stumble. “Eden know you’re trespassing? You know how she deals with people she doesn’t like?”

Vaughn’s smirk faded.

“I’m just here for a few words.” He spread his hands wide with a smile. “Where is Sullivan? Did you leave her alone?” Jarrod didn’t react. “Because if there’s anything sharp in the room, she’s probably bleeding out.” Vaughn’s cheek twitched, his expression unreadable. “Anything she can get tied around her neck?” he went on, his hand in a fist at the side of his throat yanking at an imaginary noose.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jarrod said.

“Or did she start you off slow and go for a roof?” Vaughn went on. “You feel like a hero?” His face went hard. “How’re you gonna feel when you have to shove your finger down her throat because she swallowed a couple bottles of pills?” He held up his hand, his finger hooked.

Jarrod didn’t say anything for half a minute, the silence broken only by the steady plop of drips from above like a metronome.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Vaughn sneered.

Jarrod moved to duck around him, but Vaughn didn’t budge. “Maybe you shouldn’t have given her Touch in the first place.”

Something changed on Vaughn’s face. Dropping his attention to the snow, he pressed his boot into the edge of the drift, trampling it down. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jarrod.”

Vaughn nodded as if deep in thought, his eyes still downcast. “Listen, Jarrod, I’m done here. I want my girl back.”

“She’s not your girl,” Jarrod ground out.

“She is.” Vaughn’s head snapped up. “You’ve known her a week. Sullivan’s been mine since we were both
fourteen
,” he roared. “You wanna know pain, Jarrod? Watch your girl smiling the day after you die. Walk up to her on the street. Have her look at you like you’re a stranger.”

Shock broke Jarrod’s anger. “You knew her before you were a Sider?”

“We were together three years before I went Sider. I thought she was cheating on me; turns out she was forgetting all about me.” Vaughn winced. “I stayed away. I tried. For a year, and then I ran into her at a club. She didn’t even look at me.” He tipped his head back, staring up into the rush of snowflakes. “One of my crew hit her friends with Touch the weekend before. She was looking for it. And I thought maybe … maybe we could start over.” He sighed. “I never should have given it to her.”

Jarrod’s voice came out a whisper, not the calm demand he’d been shooting for. “She’s done with you.” He looked toward the end of the alley. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go to work now. Not after what Vaughn had said.
Was
there anything sharp in his room? She’d been sleeping when he’d left. What if she woke up? He took a few steps back toward the apartment.

“Listen, you little shit,” Vaughn started.

Jarrod turned back as Vaughn’s fist cracked into his nose. He dropped to his knees, hands cupped over his face for a split second before he dove forward and slammed into Vaughn’s legs.

Vaughn caught him on the way down, ending up on top, pounding his knuckles into Jarrod’s face again. Jarrod coughed out a spray of blood, fought to turn his head away. Vaughn’s knees pinned his arms into the ground, the next punch cracking a bone in Jarrod’s cheek.

Wrestling an arm free, he grabbed Vaughn’s ear and twisted with everything he had.

“Son of a bitch,” Vaughn yelled, rocking enough to the side so that Jarrod could free his other hand and punch into Vaughn’s throat. The cry choked off. Jarrod bucked, throwing Vaughn into the wall. Before Vaughn staggered to his feet, Jarrod was already up. He didn’t hesitate, palmed Vaughn’s face, and slammed his head against the wall.

Vaughn crumpled.

Gasping for breath, Jarrod dropped his elbows to his knees, his nose dripping crimson onto the snow.

“Dick.” He straightened and retched, spitting a glop of bloody mucus. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his coat, he cupped a hand under his nose. His face was already swelling; he squinted to see the way back home.

“Jarrod!” A frantic call from the head of the alley. Eden ran toward him.

He slipped as he stepped toward her and went down on one knee. She got to him in time to grab his elbow and keep him from falling flat.

“Jesus Christ,” she said, tilting his head up. The taste of the blood that streamed down the back of his throat made him gag. She looked down at the body in the drift beside them as she slung an arm around Jarrod’s waist, trying to help him. “Madeline met me, but halfway through she spotted Vaughn’s Second. Freaked out thinking I was setting her up and then had us confront him. Someone told him we have Sullivan.”

“And where he could find me?” Jarrod’s head snapped up. “Little convenient that you were tied up in that conversation while I was getting my ass kicked.”

Eden’s eyes flashed back to the entrance to the alley closest to Milton’s. “No. Not on purpose. I mean, Madeline, she helped me look for you the other night. She wouldn’t....” Eden’s hands dropped from Jarrod’s jacket. “But Ali said someone called Vaughn and tipped him off you’d be here.”

Jarrod coughed hard and dropped his hand, a palmful of blood coloring the snow. “You think it was Madeline? She know about Sullivan?”

“She watches us, Jarrod. She could have seen you with her. And she wants Vaughn dead. She could have thought I’d get pissed off enough to do it.”

Jarrod paused. “You gonna?”

“It’ll send him Downstairs.” In the snow, Vaughn didn’t stir. Utterly helpless. One breath, and Eden could end him. Jarrod cupped his nose again, pinching it off.

Finally, Eden grabbed for Jarrod’s arm. “I can’t do it.”

He nodded and leaned heavy on Eden’s shoulder. As she headed them back toward the apartment, he couldn’t help but wonder at the trail of blood he left behind, leading directly to their door.

L
uke wrapped his arm around Kristen’s. Their shoulders bumped until their steps evened out and they moved down the sidewalk as one. Kristen couldn’t seem to shake her paranoia, the feeling they were being watched, followed. They’d never been in public together, never risked being seen. Or rather, she’d never risked it. Not like this. His hands on her felt treasonous.

She snuck a glance at Luke from the corner of her eye. He looked confident, carefree. Himself. Fear swelled in her as they walked, knowing at any moment they could be seen by the wrong eyes.

She wondered what it felt like to not care. To not depend on others for sanity. To be herself, instead of the caricature she’d created, everything amped up to intimidate. Frighten. Turn away.

She caught her reflection in the windows they passed. The dress fit perfectly. The deep brown hugged her curves as if it were made for her.
Is this who I am?
she thought.

Luke leaned in to her ear. “You haven’t passed today.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing he was right. She wondered how much of her nervousness was Touch building.

She held out her hand to him. He snagged a finger of her glove, pulling it off and tucking it into his pocket. She kept her hand low and to the side, fingers searching out rare snatches of bare skin. Kristen kept her eyes ahead, trying to hold in her sigh with each release.

“You don’t pick your victims?” he asked, seeming amused. He kissed her cheek before she could pull away. “How wicked.”

“No, that’s not how it is. I don’t want them to be
victims
.”
Don’t forget who you are
, a voice whispered in the sound of traffic passing. She hadn’t given it a thought when she’d touched them. Her voice betrayed her confusion. “I’m normally so careful.”

Luke’s fingers laced tighter with hers. “I don’t judge. No need for guilt.”

Her eyes were drawn away, pulled to a figure ahead in the crowd. He didn’t seem much older than she was, clean shaven and smiling, but the words coming out of his mouth didn’t match the tranquility in his face. He ranted, standing on a box, a sandwich board draped over him.

“What’s going on?” she asked Luke.

“Doomsayer.” He rolled his eyes.

Kristen picked up a few words of the rant the closer they came. The deepness of the voice drew her in, gravelly and ancient, spouting from the young body.