A Touch Menacing (41 page)

She took a breath before giving him an indulgent look. “You’re not going to have me followed by those minions or whatever I saw last night?” she asked. In the light of day, the not-shadows seemed improbable. Luke’s expression went whimsical, his voice dropping low.

“They’ve always been with you, Kristen. They’ll obey you if you call to them, though they can’t hold form around the Bound,” he said, spreading his hands out at his sides. He curled his fingers slightly as if in invitation, fixated on a spot just over her shoulder. “It’d drive a weaker girl mad to know how close they are. To see how easily they whisper to you from their dark corners. Once you hear them, it’s hard not to listen.”

Kristen fought the urge to turn. “You think I’d fall for that? There’s nothing there,” she snapped too quickly. Luke twitched just enough to let her know he’d picked up on her bravado. For a split second, she thought she felt a sigh against her skin. Behind her, a floorboard gave the slightest creak.

A corner of his mouth tweaked up in a grin. “I’ll tell them to keep their distance,” he said as he stepped aside so she could open the door.

“The Bound will pay for what they’ve done,” she said. For a long moment, she only stared into Luke’s eyes. “ ‘For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,/Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.’” She kissed him, as close to his lips as she dared, but he didn’t flinch. “My love,” she whispered, “is a fever.’”

Despite the layers she wore against the cold, Kristen felt exposed. Standing alone on a Queens street corner, she had every reason to be afraid, but fear had nothing to do with the tremors that battered her insides. Her skin was raw and roughed over from Luke’s kisses, her cheeks blush burned. Already she felt the absence of him.

Her nearly knee-high boots crunched ice and salt, the left one tight and aching on her calf. Luke had promised other weapons like the one she carried tucked in that boot. He would only give them to her one at a time. They were precious, rare. This one would be given to Jackson. She had never thought to memorize his number, but he hadn’t been at the ball, so she was hedging her bets that he was alive, staying out of sight in Madeline’s home.

What was she going to say to him? Her ball had laid the Siders out on a platter. Kristen shook her head, thrusting the guilt away. Today, she’d right her wrongs. Help Jackson and anyone else who was left. If Kristen had been the one dead, Madeline would have done the same for her.

Kristen scanned the street for threats. Bells rung as Salvation Army workers collected change in front of stores. The clouded, heavy skies were a portent of snow to come.

She turned at the small bodega on the corner and headed up the street. Every few minutes, she glanced behind to be sure she wasn’t being followed. She circled back of the nondescript, run-down house and lifted a cracked flowerpot. The dead plant rattled as she set it aside. Underneath was the spare key. She slipped it into the door.

“Hello?” she called out softly, her hand on the knob.

No one answered. Two stairs led up to a kitchen. There was food on the counter, none of it spoiled, as if someone had made a late breakfast and then disappeared without cleaning it up. The cupboards were open, paint peeling from them.

“Jackson?” Kristen yelled.

She imagined Madeline bounding around the corner, half expected her, but no one came. Kristen passed into the hall, up the stairs. Every crack and creak echoed through the emptiness. A shirt hung, looped around the rails of the banister. Another lay discarded in the hall. She froze, listening.

Silence, save for a ticking clock, the wind groaning outside. The door to every room lining the hall was open. She gave each one a cursory glance, padding quietly on. Most of the rooms were untouched. A very few were ravaged, dresser drawers hanging askew, clothes ripped half off hangers and then abandoned. The floors were hardwood; any ashes should have been easy to spot, but there were none. Jackson must have taken whoever was left and run. Which would explain why most of the rooms were perfect. They had belonged to Siders who died.

“Jackson!” she yelled louder. “Anyone?”

When she got to the last room, there was something on the scuffed-up floorboards. She swallowed hard and cast a glance back at the stairs before she took a step forward. Her face wrinkled in disgust. Vomit. Old and dried.

“What the hell went on here?” she whispered. Madeline’s house might have been run-down, parts of it falling apart, but she wasn’t the type to leave something like this. The puddle had been there long enough to crack and split as it dried.

A knock sounded at the front door. Kristen pressed herself against the wall, frozen. Jackson had clearly left in a hurry; what if they’d gone because they knew the Bound were headed to Madeline’s next? The knock came again, louder and more insistent.
Relax,
she commanded herself.
The Bound wouldn’t exactly be knocking.

The knob squeaked as it turned.

“Hey, it’s open.” Eden’s voice. Dizzy relief spilled over Kristen, a second ahead of frustration. As long as Eden was around, Siders would be dying. But Eden would fight against the Bound. With everyone else dead, Kristen wondered if it was time to rethink her position.

“It looks like he’s already gone,” said a second voice. Male.
My God,
she thought.
That can’t be Az?
One set of footsteps, then another, crossed into the living room below.

“Coast clear?” And Jarrod. The whole crew. Which meant she was outnumbered three to one. There was a whisper of nylon, coat sleeves brushing against each other. “Come on,” he added a second later, his tone softer.

Who else was with them?
Kristen eased backward into one of the rooms and tucked herself into the wedge between the wall and the door.

The voices were less distinct, but she could still hear them milling about down there.
Go away,
she thought desperately, but the fates were not in her favor. The quartet went back the way she’d come in, to the kitchen. A moment later, there were murmurs at the base of the stairs.

Eden sounded angry. “We’re checking everywhere. Even if they’re not here, maybe they left some clue where they were going, or what Jackson was talking about.”

Kristen held her breath, torn between hoping Eden would go on about whatever Jackson had said and praying she’d leave. She got neither. Four sets of shoes clomped up the stairs.

“You and Sullivan take that side,” Eden commanded.
Who is Sullivan?
Squeaking hinges marked their progress. They closed the doors as they searched room by room, minute by minute.

“Clear,” she heard Jarrod yell from across the hall.

In her hiding spot, Kristen swallowed hard. Everything had gone absolutely wrong. If they discovered her now, Eden would never trust her. All that was left was pleading mercy if she was found.

“Should we just stay here?” Az asked.

A shadow darkened the floor. “I don’t know,” Eden said slowly, stepping into the room Kristen hid in.

Go away,
Kristen thought. The floorboards creaked as Eden moved further in. Kristen cleared her mind, readying herself for what she was about to do.
Nothing a little acting can’t fix,
she thought.

Kristen shoved the door hard, then slammed the lock. Whipping around, she faced Eden. “Don’t scream, it’s me!” she pleaded.

Eden stood, arms spread out and ready to fight.

Kristen amped up her false terror. “Please,” she whispered. “You have to help me. Tell Az and Jarrod not to hurt me!”

A bang rattled the door against her back. Kristen held her hands up.

“Eden?” Az yelled from the other side. “What’s going on? Open the door!”

“Kristen’s in here! She’s locked the door.” Eden stared at her, desperate and full of fear.

Someone kicked hard enough to rattle the door in its frame.

“What do you want?” Eden demanded.

Kristen let her bottom lip quiver for just a fraction of a second. “I . . .” She counted off two seconds of hesitation. “I had nowhere else to go.”

To her surprise, Eden looked unaffected by the show of emotion.
So help me, if I have to give her tears, I’d rather just kill her,
Kristen thought bitterly.

“Save it. You were with Luke last night,” Eden said.

Kristen didn’t flinch. “And you were with Gabriel?” she guessed.

“Hey!” Az yelled, pounding hard. “Open the door or we’re kicking it down!” A heavy boot rattled the door.

Kristen dropped the hysterics. “I’m sick of playing games, Eden. Yes, I’m with Luke,” she said. Eden blinked once, enough to let Kristen know how well the act had worked. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences. But we trusted each other once. Enough that I helped you get Az back, and you tried to help me get myself back.” She jumped as the boys kicked the door again.

“Madeline said you want me gone.” She was beyond pale, her cheeks almost gray in the winter light stealing in through the window. “You left me out of any plans. You left us to fight alone!” Eden said, real pain in her voice.

Kristen softened. “I had to. Things have changed, though,” she said, coming to a decision. “You’d have been done for if I’d invited you to that ball. Let bygones be that. Fight the Bound with me.” Another kick to the door. “Impatient, aren’t they?” she said as the lock finally splintered. She darted out of the way just as Az burst through.

“Get away from her,” he growled. “Now.”

“I’m fine!” Eden insisted.

Jarrod’s eyes were cold and trained on Kristen. “Block the door,” he said softly, and a new girl stepped into position. “Eden, take her out.”

“You’re not serious,” Kristen said.

“Why shouldn’t she?” Jarrod said. “You wanted
her
dead.”

Az glanced up. “What?”

Her first instinct was to back away from Jarrod, but that put her farther from the exit. Instead, Kristen skated along the wall. “Eden, call him off!”

“You store Touch, don’t you?” Jarrod asked. He tracked her, his shoulders arched forward, movements calculated. A predator stalking prey. “With everything that’s been happening, you must be loaded up from your Screamers.”

Now Az was edging toward her. She glanced at Eden. There was pity in her eyes.
She really means to kill me.

“Wait!” Kristen yelled, holding up a hand to fend them off. “Just wait!” Madeline had told her Eden grew sick when she’d stopped taking out the Siders, but she’d forgotten about it. “I can pass to her.”

“Back off, Jarrod,” Az said quietly.

Kristen gave him a grateful half nod and then turned her attention back to Eden. “God,” she whispered. “Look at you.”

Now that she was actually paying attention, the difference in Eden was striking. Not only was her color off, but there were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was odd, almost translucent.

“How bad are you?” Kristen asked. To her credit, Eden didn’t look away.

Jarrod rocked forward on the balls of his feet, nervous and twitchy. “Don’t answer that,” he said. “She’s with Luke again. Anything you tell her, count on it going straight back to him.”

Between the halfhearted attempt on her life and Jarrod’s attitude, Kristen had run out of patience. “While your concern is no doubt appreciated by Eden, trust me, Luke isn’t interested in killing her off. Not when her Siders are going Upstairs.”

Suddenly, Jarrod rushed her, slamming her against the wall. Kristen gasped as his forearm pressed against her throat. “You’re not here to hide,” he said. “You’re after Sullivan.”

Kristen swallowed hard. “You’re Sullivan?” she asked the girl at the door.

Instantly, Jarrod leaned, his arm pressing harder. Who
was
this girl? Why was Jarrod being so overly protective?

“Did you call Luke already?” Jarrod snarled. “Is he on his way here?”

“Hey!” Az yelled. “Ease up!”

“Jarrod, there’s no way she could have known we were coming here,” Eden said. Something about her voice was strange. Kristen looked past Jarrod. Clutching onto the side of a short dresser, Eden had her arm laid out across the wood and her head resting on it. She used the other to push Az away while he tried to soothe her. Black smeared his skin where she’d touched him. Her eyes didn’t leave Kristen. “With all the Touch you’re carrying, taking you out would buy me a week,” she said, her voice gravelly. “You dose me, and I get a few hours. What would you do?”

“You know what I’d do,” Kristen answered. “But you’re not me.”

Eden’s head knocked gently against the wall as she lowered to the floor. “I just figure sooner or later you’ll make yourself useful again,” she said, amusement in her voice. She waved Jarrod off.

“I heard you say you talked to Jackson,” Kristen said.

“He called me.” Sweat broke out on Eden’s forehead. She coughed into her sleeve, her lungs rattling, wet and full. Ashy flecks speckled her lips. She wiped them off with the back of her arm. “He and Madeline were up to something. We can find him faster if we work together,” Eden wheezed.

Jarrod stepped behind Kristen. “Dose her,” he demanded.

She sidestepped, a look of warning crossing her face. “I don’t like you where I can’t see you.”

“And I don’t give a shit,” Jarrod shot back. “Dose her, now.”

Eden wasn’t being dramatic; that much was clear. Kristen slowly moved to sit next to her. “You try to take me out and all Hell will break loose,” she said. “Literally.”

Eden nodded, grimacing as she leaned forward. Kristen passed her the dose. Only when Kristen had pulled back to a safe distance did either of them let loose the breath they’d been holding. Eden’s choked out in a half sob of exhaustion. “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky. She opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, but she seemed less . . . gray. “Jarrod, can you get me a glass of water?”

Kristen stared at her, silent. It was an obvious ploy to get him out of the room, and clearly the boy knew it. He set his jaw, ready to argue.

“Take Sullivan,” Eden added.

“We’ll go,” Jarrod said. “If you promise Az stays here with you.”

“Done,” Eden said.