His hazel eyes, dead and dull, skirted over her face before dropping again to the floor. With his head dipped forward, the hood of his jacket obscured his blond curls and his high cheekbones. There was no easy smile to set her at ease. She missed the old Gabe.
Gabriel teased the edge of the puddle with his shoe, spreading it across the worn concrete floor. His gaze lifted and slipped slowly over her shoulder to the living room beyond. “Is Jarrod here?” he asked.
Eden blinked in surprise. “Is Jarrod here? That’s all you can think of to say?”
“I—” His voice broke.
Eden hesitated, for the first time wondering if it was guilt that had kept him away, and what had brought him now. It was Gabe who’d taken her life. Gabe who now stood before her, Bound again. And the Bound were her enemies. Her palms grew slick. It’s Gabe, her brain insisted. Still, she couldn’t help the urge to back away from him.
His irises darkened from hazel to blood red. “Not all of us want to be your enemy, Eden,” he said, his voice cold. “I am begging you not to make this harder on me than it needs to be.”
A flush—embarrassment more than anger—burned her cheeks. Whether he meant to or not, he’d read her mind and heard the truth.
Shame wrenched his voice into something hollow and haunted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I try to stay out, but you can’t help what you feel and I can’t help hearing the broadcast.”
She couldn’t stop concentrating on his hands. The same hands that had held her under the waves. She had no memory of her actual death, though it wasn’t easy to shake away the gruesome imaginings. “It’s . . . okay,” she offered.
“No, it’s not.” Gabriel subtly moved his hands behind his back. “Pathless or not, I took your life. I made a terrible error in judgment.”
She stared at him. His words sounded like a recording, something memorized and spat back.
“Can I come in?” he asked. Only when she nodded did Gabriel slink past her into the apartment, as if it was holy ground and he didn’t belong. He stopped in the middle of the room, his back to her. “I’m so sorry about Az.”
The words hit her like a sucker punch. “Some of your things are still here,” she said instead of responding. “I’m holding on to his until—well—if you want yours . . .” She knew how silly it sounded, like Az would come back from Upstairs to claim a few pairs of jeans and some shirts.
As long as Gabriel had been Fallen, and she tied to him, the Siders Eden took out would have ended up Downstairs. Thinking that meant Luke would gain followers, she’d stopped sending Siders on. That’s when she got sick. To save her, Az had done what he’d once considered unthinkable—used his wings to go back Upstairs, become Bound again to clear Gabriel’s name. Now they knew more. The Siders Eden sent on weren’t harmless. They were a poison, killing souls, and now saving herself meant unleashing a plague Upstairs. Everything Az sacrificed had been for nothing. All she had left were his things. His sweatshirt smelled like him, crisp and clean and a little like the air when snow’s about to fall.
Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “Eden.”
“It’s worse, you know,” she said quietly as she shut the door. “Than when I thought he was dead.” She stared at the back of Gabriel’s puffy parka. The hood dropped from his head. “We were supposed to be together, and now he’s just missing. And there’s this hole, and I can’t seem to . . . I don’t . . . ” She trailed off, locking her arms around herself. “I need him.” She didn’t care how stupid it sounded. “Tell me where to find him. How to get to him.”
“I can’t.”
“You have seen him, though?” She steeled herself. Now that he was Bound again, Gabe couldn’t lie. There’d be no sugarcoating. “Is he okay?”
Gabe flexed his fingers and then unzipped his jacket, glancing back at her before he sat on the couch. His cautiousness set her even further on edge.
“I’ll tell you what I can. It won’t be much.” Once she’d sat down in the armchair, he began. “Michael convinced the council of angels that time was of the essence, that they needed to hear Az’s testimony immediately because I was in danger of becoming unredeemable.” His tone didn’t change, stayed monotone and dead. Eden had met Michael only once. The terrifying Bound angel had treated her like she was repulsive. He hadn’t treated Az any better. “Az told them that you didn’t have a path, so you weren’t on record. That you weren’t mortal when I took your life. He told them I had been investigating the Siders and planned on reporting everything I knew.” Gabe fell silent, running his hands through his curls. “It was enough,” he said.
“I’m proud of him,” Eden said, surprised by the lack of bitterness in her voice. “He did the right thing. You shouldn’t have Fallen because of me. I was going to die anyway.”
Gabe shrugged a shoulder. “Once they accepted his testimony, they brought me back Upstairs. When it was time for him to become one of us again, he . . . He’s not Bound.”
“What does that mean? He Fell?” Az wouldn’t stay away, she thought. Not by choice. The words stole her breath; her hands started to tremble. “Where is he now?”
He’s gone, she thought, and I didn’t know. “Did they—” she got out before everything inside her broke. Did they kill him? She couldn’t get the words past her lips, but with Gabriel, there was no need.
Gabe looked stricken. “No! Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that.”
She slumped, her sigh choking off in a cough. Concern filled Gabriel’s eyes.
Swiping the tears on her face, she snuck a look at her palm as she dropped it to her lap. The center was gray-black with ashes, her fingers inky. “Keep going,” she said. “Please.”
“He came Upstairs willingly,” Gabriel continued, “so they know he had true intent. They’re sure it’s only a matter of time before he gives in and agrees to become Bound again. They will wait.” His irises burned in turbulent swirls of color. “He’s in a cell.”
“You’re not just going to leave him there,” she said in disbelief. “Can you get to him?”
“I can’t, Eden.” His voice shook.
Gabe wanted her to know. Why? Why had he come to tell her this when he hadn’t shown his face until now?
You can’t help Az, she thought, but I can. Is that what you want, Gabe?
He winced as if tasting something terrible, and she knew he’d wanted to lie. Gabriel had grown used to being Fallen.
She got to her feet and strode across the room to the door, the idea of how she could get Az back beginning to take shape. She had to get down to the alley.
“Why the alley?” Gabriel asked as she yanked on one of her boots and zipped it up her calf. “What are you going to do? Your thoughts are scattered.”
“Oh, come on, Gabe,” she snapped, pulling on the other boot. When she glanced up, Gabe was off the couch, circling around her. “If I can help Az, I’m doing it alone. There’s not a chance I’m bringing you down with me. Leave.”
At the demand, the air in the living room almost seemed to thicken. Gabriel’s shoulders pulled back, stiff with tension. “Look, you shouldn’t interfere with this,” he said. “It’s suicide!”
Eden smirked. “Not for me.”
I have the upper hand against the Bound, she realized. Siders she sent on stayed Siders, passing Touch Upstairs. It worked differently up there. Here, mortals were passed Touch and it only amped up what they were feeling, for good or bad. Upstairs—or Downstairs, for that matter—the Touch killed the souls. Permanently.
Fine. If the Bound thought they could take Az, could hunt her and her friends, Eden would declare war. “They want to see what infecting their realms really looks like? I’ll show them.” She grabbed her coat as she opened the door, refusing to let her terror shake her resolve the way it shook her hands. “Tell them I’ll stop when they let Az go.”
“Eden, they already want you most of all. You can’t act against them,” Gabe said. “I can’t allow it.”
Clenching her jaw, she forced awa
y the fear she knew must be so obvious to him before she turned back. “Luckily, I’m not asking your permission.”
“I’ll hurt you if I have to,” Gabriel said as he grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand in surprise, pain radiating from the already forming bruise. “Step away from the door. Back toward the couch,” he commanded. Any resemblance to the gentle Gabe she remembered dissolved. “Now where the hell,” he said quietly, “is Jarrod?”
CHAPTER 2
Stretched out beside Sullivan, Jarrod couldn’t help the way his stomach flip-flopped as she sighed softly in her sleep and leaned into him. There was something different about having a girl fall asleep on his chest, head tucked against his shoulder, an arm draped across his stomach. Maybe it was just something about Sullivan.
He hadn’t planned on liking her as much as he did, uncertain what was happening between them. The newness of it made it feel like it could crumble apart at any moment.
Two weeks ago, she’d shown up at Milton’s while he was working. She’d been mortal then and addicted to Touch. His stomach churned at the memory of the night Luke took her life, of her blood soaking Jarrod’s legs, the gush and gurgle of her last breaths and his disbelief when, hours later, she took another.
As if on cue, Sullivan’s eyelashes fluttered. “Hey,” she murmured, stretching against him. Jarrod felt the brush of skin in every nerve, his body humming for her.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, moved slowly to give her warning. She held her breath as his mouth hit hers. A pulse of Touch surged through him, slid back into her. Another, stronger one raised the hair on the back of his neck. Each drove a spike of need deeper into him. Sullivan grabbed his shoulder, squeezing. Lungs bursting, he tore himself away with a delayed gasp. “Sorry,” he said as he leaned back, biting his lip.
“You okay?” she asked, searching for any sign that he wasn’t.
He wanted to keep going, knew they had to be careful. Because Luke had killed Sullivan, she was tied to him, the same way Eden was tied to Gabriel. If they slipped up, and Sullivan exhaled at the same time Jarrod inhaled, he would wind up Downstairs in a cage. It had put a serious damper on their make-outs.
When he didn’t answer, she touched his shoulder. He leaned closer, his tongue pressed to the top of his mouth, blocking his airway just in case. Sullivan’s kiss was barely a peck. When she pulled away, he saw the fear in her eyes.
“We’ll figure this all out,” he promised.
Sullivan nodded, then seemed to reconsider. “Everything’s so different. I mean, between two weeks ago and now. . . .” she said.
“It gets easier. Passing Touch, dosing. All of it,” he said, trying not to let her see he was distracted.
Outside his closed door, he heard movement. For a second, he was almost sure he heard voices as Sullivan rolled away from him. “I meant you and me,” she said.
“Hey.” He took her face in his hands. “We’ll figure that out, too,” he said before his attention turned back to the sounds coming from the living room.
A cry from Eden. It’s the Bound. They found us. Jarrod vaulted up, over Sullivan. I knew I heard something! He chastised himself. I let my guard down. She’s in trouble.
The springs of the mattress creaked as Sullivan sat up. Jarrod turned to her, one finger over his lips for silence, the other pointing to the clothes she’d discarded last night. She moved to get dressed without questioning. He put his ear close to the keyhole. It took every ounce of resistance not to bolt through the door. He concentrated on any clues about how many were out there, if it was really the Bound, and then he recognized the voice yelling over Eden’s.
“What the hell?” Jarrod said as he swung the door open. Gabriel.
Gabriel, who’d found him and Sullivan in the park the night she’d been killed. Gabriel, who had gotten them back to the apartment. Who’d spied on Downstairs so that Madeline had known how to save Eden.
Gabriel, who now had Eden by the wrist.
“Bullshit I can’t leave!” she seethed. “If they won’t give him back to me, I’ll infect Upstairs with every Sider I can find!”
“Let her go right now!” Jarrod yelled as he motioned for Sullivan to stay back. What the hell’s happening?
Eden stopped fighting at the sound of his voice and took a step toward him. Gabriel released her, relief flooding his face.
Two black tears rolled down Eden’s cheeks. As soon as she was within reach, Jarrod grabbed for her hand and rolled it over. Ashes tumbled from her palms. Shit. A deep bruise circled one of her wrists. He kept his attention on Gabriel, backing Eden slowly toward Sullivan and his room. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.
Gabriel shook his head. “Nothing. You got here in time. She’s not hurt.”
Eden tried to speak, but coughing broke up her words, and Jarrod couldn’t make out what she was saying.
She sucked in with a wet, crackling noise. Her lungs sounded full of cellophane. “Slow breaths,” he commanded.
Without enough Touch to heal, her body was shutting down. He watched her throat convulse as she tried to swallow. An injury as simple as that bruise on her wrist was enough to tip the scales. “Sullivan, grab a glass of water. Hurry.”
Sullivan ducked into the bathroom, going for the plastic cup they kept on the back of the sink. He heard the water turn on.
Suddenly, Eden’s full weight dropped against him. This was going to get bad. Very bad. “Hey!” he said. Easing one arm around her waist, he tilted her head back into the crook of the other. “Focus on me.”
Her fingers clawed at her throat, her nail beds going pale and then blue. This wasn’t a mere tickle in her throat that water would fix. What Eden needed was a Sider, to take in their Touch, which would mean four flights down to the front stairs, where they tended to gather. She wasn’t going to make it that far.
He thought of the extra Touch Sullivan had passed him when they’d kissed. “I’m passing to you, okay?”
The little air Eden had left cut short. He heard footsteps beside him, could feel Sullivan’s stare. Did she understand? Did she know that he wasn’t getting off on this, only felt worry? Touch transferred from him to Eden with a tingle, and he pulled away.
“Water?” he said, holding an arm out behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sullivan as she slipped the cup into his hand. He held it for Eden, watching as she took desperate gulps. Suddenly she knocked the cup aside and wheezed in a lungful of air as his Touch healed her lungs enough to stop more ashes from forming. It was a temporary solution, but it would tide her over until he could convince her to head to the stairs. He helped her down to the floor.
“Why isn’t she better?” Gabriel asked, something frantic in his voice. “I didn’t think she’d be so weak. She should have gotten better when she started sending on the Siders again.”
“Because,” Jarrod spat at Gabriel as he stood. “She didn’t start taking them out again. She didn’t want to get you in trouble!” He moved forward, putting himself in front of Eden and Sullivan. Gabriel was a Bound angel, and the Bound were trying to kill them. It didn’t matter if he had been Eden’s friend once. “You should leave,” Jarrod said.
“No,” Eden croaked from the floor. “The Bound—Az. Holding—he’s not—” A cough racked her as she got to her hands and knees. Black flecked the carpet.
Jarrod looked to Gabriel.
“He resisted becoming Bound once he knew I was cleared. But he’s locked up,” he said. “She thinks she’s going to kill enough Siders to strong-arm them into letting him go.”
Jarrod crossed his arms. “Well, if it gets her taking out the Siders again, I’m all for it.”
“If they’re not stupid, they’ll hand him over,” Sullivan added, slinking into the space beside him. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
“It’s not Hell she needs to worry about,” Gabriel said. “The Bound aren’t playing games anymore.”
“So where does that leave you?” Jarrod asked.
When he looked at Jarrod, Gabriel’s irises were ringed in yellow, the rest bright purple. Eden had told him once about each color giving away how an angel felt. All Jarrod could remember was that yellow meant fear. Purple. What does purple mean? he thought.
Gabriel gave a subtle shake of his head, held his hands low, as if he wanted Jarrod to know he wasn’t a threat. “You’ve got to keep her safe. They haven’t figured out how to kill normal Siders yet, only those like Eden and Sullivan. They are close, though, Jarrod.”
Loyalty, Jarrod thought suddenly. Purple means loyalty. On the floor, Eden wiped at lips smeared with charcoal.
“You better?” Gabe asked her.
Jarrod glanced down at Eden. “She’s sick as hell,” he answered for her. But sick didn’t really cover it. If Eden didn’t start taking out the Siders again, she wasn’t going to make it. “Her Touch levels are so low anything sets her off.”
“Not an issue anymore,” Eden said with a rasp. “Get me downstairs. If the Bound have a problem with it, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Eden?” Gabriel snarled, startling them all. “Kill them? Do you know how to kill an angel? Because every one of us knows how to kill you! It’s not going to be a challenge.” For just a moment, Jarrod saw Eden’s anger crack as Gabriel moved methodically closer. “You’ll be so easy to kill. You can’t even fight back. You don’t have the right weapons.”
So there is a weapon that can take out an angel. Was that a slip, or something Gabriel meant to say? Could I kill him if I had to? A quick vision hit him, his hand ripping Gabriel’s head back, a knife digging in, Eden screaming. He shook the image away. He’d do what needed to be done to get them through alive. No matter what.
Sullivan’s hands gripped his shoulder, pulling him back. “Jarrod, look at him.”
Gabriel’s glare hit him full strength, crimson burning.
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