A Touch Menacing

by Leah Clifford

  “Okay,” she said. “So we have a guaranteed five minutes. If you need to say something, now’s the time.” She grabbed Eden’s hand and helped her up. “I’m guessing you didn’t just come to catch up?”

  “No,” Gabe said, and he looked at Jarrod, speaking to him alone. “I need your help. I want you to track down the territory leaders. Kristen, Madeline, Erin”–his eyes flicked to Sullivan–“Vaughn. I know they were the original Siders. There has to be something that links them.”

  “Like a patient zero,” Sullivan said.

  “What good is that going to do?” Jarrod asked.

  Gabe shrugged, at a loss. “You’re in the bodies you had as mortals. You’re not alive, though blood is still pumping. Your hair grows and you heal, which means your cells regenerate. You’re not dead and you’re not alive. It’s almost like without paths you’re just . . .” He hesitated, his brow wrinkled in concentration. “Paused.”

  Jarrod raised an eyebrow. “So what happens when we get unpaused?”

  Gabe didn’t answer. “Do you remember anything strange from your last days as a mortal? Times you would have been on Touch and not known it then?”

  “Um,” Jarrod said, hesitating. Memories crept through him from the last month or so of his mortal days. Screaming matches with his foster parents. Taking off in the middle of the night. A trickle of sweat dripped down his neck as Sullivan and Eden shifted to look at him. Sullivan’s hand slid across his shoulder, easing down his arm until she could lock their fingers together.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to answer. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I mean, the state came and took me away from my mom’s. The place they put me was worse, so after a few months I bolted. I was afraid the cops would find me and take me back.” He faltered, embarrassed and unsure of whether to go on. “I did things. Stole. I had to survive. I never hurt anyone,” he added, vehemently. “I’d never done anything like that before. I was crashing with guys I didn’t know well. There could have been a Sider in there, I guess. We were all messed up a lot of the time.” He couldn’t be certain. “It might have been Touch.”

  Gabe’s gaze was still on him. “So none of the Siders you know of now were there? None of the territory leaders? Kristen, Madeline, Vaughn?” Gabe asked. “Think hard.”

  Kristen and Madeline wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes around the group he’d taken up with those last few weeks. Vaughn would have stuck out. Jarrod shook his head. “No, I would have remembered.”

  “How long were you with these guys?”

  “Little over a month?” Jarrod guessed.

  “Eden? What about you? Times you could have been on Touch,” Gabriel asked, though his eyes never left Jarrod. Why’s he looking at me like that? Jarrod wondered.

  “Before I met you and Az?” she stammered, and Jarrod knew she felt the same strange disconnect he did. Their mortal days were gone. Forgotten.

  The same way their mortal days had forgotten them.

  Eden coughed weakly. “The first month or so of summer, there were a bunch of parties. I went to all of them. I didn’t really know everyone there, but it was the same crowd. Then I stopped getting invited. My friends stopped calling.” Her last words were almost inaudible before she rallied. “They were forgetting about me, because I was losing my path, weren’t they?”

  Gabriel seemed to ignore her distress. “Do you remember seeing any Siders?”

  Jarrod shot a glance her way to catch her shaking her head. “No,” he answered for her. Gabe’s agitation worsened, the angel’s irises darkening to rust-colored rings. “Sullivan became a Sider because Vaughn’s group passed her too much Touch and her path got eroded. I think you were all exposed that way.” His voice lowered to a mumble of concentration. “A month of parties, a month for Jarrod. And then death. But Sullivan was with Vaughn much longer.”

  “No!” Sullivan piped up, and then stepped back against Jarrod. “I mean, I was with him for six months, but he kept me alive. He kept me from killing myself.”

  Gabe blinked quickly. “The Siders started in New York, but someone was spreading enough Touch in New Jersey that Eden was exposed to it a significant amount.” He stepped back toward the door like an animal afraid to be caged. No one made an attempt to stop him. He sucked in hard, clenching his hands. “Question Madeline, Kristen, Vaughn . . . Erin if you can find her. If you can trace it back—”

  “No.” Jarrod cut in before Gabe could go on. He didn’t bother to hide his anger. “We’re staying here. Inside. We can’t go wandering around with your kind out there. Look at Eden,” he said, tipping his chin toward where she leaned against the wall, swaying a bit.

  “I can’t,” Gabe whispered. “Jarrod, please. If you can find out how the Siders started, maybe I can find a way to fix things.”

  Jarrod tensed when Gabriel dug into a pocket, but rather than a weapon, the angel pulled out a folded piece of paper. “The Bound are coming. Some are already here, searching for Siders, trying to figure out how to kill them. When they ask me where you are . . .” Jarrod heard the heartbreak in Gabriel’s voice. “Please don’t be here.”

  “Can’t they just materialize anywhere we go?” Jarrod said.

  “Not if they don’t know where that is. They won’t be able to appear inside this apartment because they haven’t been in here, but your security door isn’t exactly going to hold them out.” As he palmed the paper to Jarrod, Gabe pulled him close. “I’ve already been inside,” he whispered in his ear, too low for the girls to hear. “Get out. Now.”

  Then, as if to prove his point, Gabriel was gone. Jarrod still held the note. A moment passed in silence before Sullivan engaged the useless dead bolt.

  “What’d he say, Jarrod?” Eden said. Her voice cracked, weak, as she spoke.

  Jarrod slid the note through his fingers. The creases were damp and deep, as if Gabe had been worrying it in his pocket for hours. Slowly, he unfolded it.

  In nearly illegible scrawl, was a single sentence.

  Do not leave Eden alone with me.

  CHAPTER 3

  Once, Eden had asked Az what Upstairs was like. He’d told her it was a figment of the imagination, filled in with the fantastical thoughts of those mortals whose paths led Upstairs. The Bound themselves didn’t dream, incapable of contributing to the beauty around them.

  You’re not one of them, Az reminded himself. Still, despite his efforts, everything around him—the walls, the bed, the locked door—was white as blank canvas.

  Not for long.

  Az pushed all his energy into remembering the exact shade of Eden’s eyes, deep cerulean like the undercurl of waves. Imagined that same color washing across the pillowcases, dripping onto the white tiled floor, puddling.

  You can do this.

  “Blue,” he whispered. “Turn blue.” Gripping the sheets in his fists, he prayed for even a single thread to change. If he could imagine the color into reality, he could create a key, envision a portal, create an escape. He could find a way back to her. So far, his efforts had yielded only a headache. His eyes burned, watered. Please.

  Nothing happened.

  He pushed off the bed and started pacing the floor again, his shoulders heaving. An angry growl burst out of him, building to a scream. He’d ripped off fingernails clawing at the bars on the window, though they’d healed. He’d spent the first two days attacking anyone who entered the cell, fighting to get past them and out. He never made it.

  Every fiber in his body ached for Eden. For the scent of her shampoo when she curled up with him on the couch and the way she pushed her sleeves up when she was frustrated, and her eyes, those eyes so blue he wanted to drown in them forever. And yet . . .

  Through the bars of his window, he could hear water babbling in a nearby stream. Birds chirping as the warm glow of the sun once again lit the realm. Others souls’ dreams painted the scenery with glorious mountains dotted with columbines. Air free of exhaust. Beauty. It called to parts of him he�
�d secreted away deep inside, tortured him with its siren song.

  Home. He curled his hands around the bars. The thought was there before he could stop it, his heart catching in his throat.

  No.

  He ripped his hands away, ashamed, and dropped back onto the bed. Don’t give in, he commanded himself. Don’t forget her. You have to get back to Eden.

  The click of the door unlocking sounded. Az slid back across the bed until his shoulders hit the wall as he recognized the angel entering his room. Raphael.

  When he’d been Bound, Az had been one of the few trusted to stay in the mortal realm. Then he’d fallen in love, been spotted with her by Michael, and brought before the council. The angel standing before him now was the one who’d handed down the punishment. Az hadn’t seen him since.

  The memory of that day coursed through him, ripping open old wounds. Az remembered the laugh he hadn’t been able to hide when Raphael told him he was to be cast out. He hadn’t cared, would have sacrificed himself a thousand times. His sentence only meant nothing kept him from the girl he loved, the one he’d chosen to give up heaven for anyway. But while he’d been Upstairs in front of the council, the Fallen had made their move. By the time he got back, they’d captured her.

  The Fallen, angels he’d once known as friends, had held him back as they passed her around, each of them tearing out bits of her skin. Even now, after so much time, the memory of her screams made his bones ache. When the life had finally drained out of her, they’d tossed her aside like a broken plaything. Under the weight of his new wings, Az had stumbled away, broken with loss. Only Gabriel’s constant vigilance in the years afterward had kept him from Falling.

  A wave of fresh resolve filled Az at the memory. He finally met Raphael’s pale eyes. The irises were almost white, barely distinguishable from the rest. Light shimmered across his dark skin, seemed to leak from within, a holy radiance.

  “Still not a word?” the Bound angel said, each syllable echoing like a musical note. The corner of Raphael’s mouth turned up. “I’d forgotten how much I admire your tenacity, misguided though it may be at times.”

  Az pressed his lips together, straightening. Upstairs, words could be dangerous. Speaking to any of them was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Plus, his silence irritated them, making it all the more appealing.

  “It’s good to see you again, frien—”

  Never will I be one of them. Bound or Fallen, he promised himself.

  Raphael recoiled. “Oh, your hate is so strong,” he murmured. The cadence of his words altered, a melody of sadness. “Not for us, though. You despise yourself.”

  Caught unprepared, Az tightened his jaw. Raphael’s head tilted in concentration.

  “You flicker, Azazel. The light is inside you.” He held a hand out as if to trace Az’s cheek. “It aches to flare bright again! Why do you fight?”

  Az jerked away. He couldn’t bear the need inside him to be complete. One of them. Whole again.

  “How sorely you ache for this to end,” Raphael said. “Forgive yourself as we’ve forgiven you. Release yourself of this guilt, Azazel. Let go.”

  The words, the name, wormed into his mind, clogging his thoughts until they didn’t make sense. Tension spooled loose from his limbs, left him docile. His eyes slipped shut as he tried to call up an image of Eden, something to make him strong. But her face wouldn’t come.

  “You want this, Azazel. We’ve missed you so.” Raphael gave his shoulder a tender squeeze.

  Az cupped his hands over his ears. In his palms, he heard the rush of his blood, pounding like waves against the shore. He latched onto the image. You met her on the beach. You couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing her. You fought to be with her. A dozen memories of Eden surfaced, suddenly crystal clear. She loves you as much as you love her. Be strong. He could almost hear her voice, encouraging him.

  “Stubborn,” Raphael tsked. “Even before your return, we beckoned you home. Does the honor not please you? To be so needed?”

  There’s no honor in this, Az thought, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

  When there was no response, Raphael looked dismayed. “I won’t deny that they’re fascinating, these Pathless creatures you’re so taken with,” he said lightly. “It’s almost as if they believe they’re still mortal. They don’t seem to understand why they can’t be allowed to survive.”

  Az looked up. Had the Bound already begun wiping out the Siders?

  “Surely you understand why we must end them. This could be your glory, Azazel. Ridding us of this plague.” Raphael leaned closer, his pale eyes persuasive. “Their ends are swift. The pain lasts but a moment.”

  “You stay away from them!” Az yelled, and leaped forward. He swung his fist, but Raphael flashed away before it could connect, reappearing behind him.

  Az spun to see Raphael’s grin stretched wide with victory. “Come now,” Raphael said gently. “Was it truly so hard to speak?”

  A thousand curses died unuttered. Raphael had wanted him angry, wanted to prove that his silence was breakable. And he’d done just that. The fire inside Az scorched red-hot, but he ground his teeth and swallowed the heat down.

  “You’re returning to us in the smallest ways,” Raphael said. “But you are returning.”

  Never, Az thought with all his might. He shook his head, but without saying the word aloud, it did nothing except make him feel weaker, beaten.

  “You had the will to use your wings. The longer you remain, the more you’ll see the light.” He scrutinized Az’s face, studying him. “Gabriel, too, struggles with his emotions. At first, some suggested to trust him would be a mistake. Fortunately, he erased our doubts.” Raphael strolled toward the door, his fingers clasped behind his back. “Perhaps your own temptation will ease once Gabriel fulfills his promise,” he mused.

  A cold current passed through Az, electric fear. Spoken aloud, promises were binding, the compulsion to complete them even stronger than the desire to confess sins. “What temptation?” The words were out before he could stop himself. “What promise?”

  Raphael looked as if he’d been offered a gift. “He pledged to end the Sider who’d caused his Fall.”

  “Eden?” Az whispered in shock. “Gabe promised to kill Eden?”

  Raphael’s cheer dimmed, his face forlorn. “Your heart is so heavy, Azazel. When her suffering ends,” he said quietly, “I pray yours will, too.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Once, Eden had asked Az what Upstairs was like. He’d told her it was a figment of the imagination, filled in with the fantastical thoughts of those mortals whose paths led Upstairs. The Bound themselves didn’t dream, incapable of contributing to the beauty around them.

  You’re not one of them, Az reminded himself. Still, despite his efforts, everything around him—the walls, the bed, the locked door—was white as blank canvas.

  Not for long.

  Az pushed all his energy into remembering the exact shade of Eden’s eyes, deep cerulean like the undercurl of waves. Imagined that same color washing across the pillowcases, dripping onto the white tiled floor, puddling.

  You can do this.

  “Blue,” he whispered. “Turn blue.” Gripping the sheets in his fists, he prayed for even a single thread to change. If he could imagine the color into reality, he could create a key, envision a portal, create an escape. He could find a way back to her. So far, his efforts had yielded only a headache. His eyes burned, watered. Please.

  Nothing happened.

  He pushed off the bed and started pacing the floor again, his shoulders heaving. An angry growl burst out of him, building to a scream. He’d ripped off fingernails clawing at the bars on the window, though they’d healed. He’d spent the first two days attacking anyone who entered the cell, fighting to get past them and out. He never made it.

  Every fiber in his body ached for Eden. For the scent of her shampoo when she curled up with him on the couch and the way she pushed her sleeves up
when she was frustrated, and her eyes, those eyes so blue he wanted to drown in them forever. And yet . . .

  Through the bars of his window, he could hear water babbling in a nearby stream. Birds chirping as the warm glow of the sun once again lit the realm. Others souls’ dreams painted the scenery with glorious mountains dotted with columbines. Air free of exhaust. Beauty. It called to parts of him he’d secreted away deep inside, tortured him with its siren song.

  Home. He curled his hands around the bars. The thought was there before he could stop it, his heart catching in his throat.

  No.

  He ripped his hands away, ashamed, and dropped back onto the bed. Don’t give in, he commanded himself. Don’t forget her. You have to get back to Eden.

  The click of the door unlocking sounded. Az slid back across the bed until his shoulders hit the wall as he recognized the angel entering his room. Raphael.

  When he’d been Bound, Az had been one of the few trusted to stay in the mortal realm. Then he’d fallen in love, been spotted with her by Michael, and brought before the council. The angel standing before him now was the one who’d handed down the punishment. Az hadn’t seen him since.

  The memory of that day coursed through him, ripping open old wounds. Az remembered the laugh he hadn’t been able to hide when Raphael told him he was to be cast out. He hadn’t cared, would have sacrificed himself a thousand times. His sentence only meant nothing kept him from the girl he loved, the one he’d chosen to give up heaven for anyway. But while he’d been Upstairs in front of the council, the Fallen had made their move. By the time he got back, they’d captured her.

  The Fallen, angels he’d once known as friends, had held him back as they passed her around, each of them tearing out bits of her skin. Even now, after so much time, the memory of her screams made his bones ache. When the life had finally drained out of her, they’d tossed her aside like a broken plaything. Under the weight of his new wings, Az had stumbled away, broken with loss. Only Gabriel’s constant vigilance in the years afterward had kept him from Falling.