A Touch Mortal

by Leah Clifford

  She’d tensed to take the first step toward them but paused when Gabe spoke.

  “Why does he have Az?” Gabe whispered from behind her. She paused, confused before she focused again on Luke.

  “How much more pain do you think he can take?” Luke asked. “And falls are painful, aren’t they, Gabe.” He tightened his hold on Az.

  Az was finally trying to stand, his knees still half bent but holding him up, his head just below Luke’s chin. He gave his hands a weak shake. Below the cord, his fingers had purpled. The broken arms of the chair still dug into the flesh of his arms. He curled his fingers behind the curved balls, jutting out past his wrists like an extra appendage. Az opened his eyes, searching Eden out.

  “Why are you fighting this, Eden?” Luke asked, but Eden couldn’t take her eyes from Az, his lips. They were moving, forming soundless words. “If Az Falls, you two can be together. I give you my word.” It almost looked as if Az was mimicking Luke, but the words didn’t quite match. She squinted.

  Unconsciously, she took a step forward.

  Luke shot a pointed finger up as she moved. “Don’t come any…!”

  Az’s hand flashed, the balled end of the broken chair arm smashing Luke on the chin, his head flying back. Az raised his other arm and dropped through the loop of Luke’s loosened grip. He hit the ground with a hard oof, already crawling, even before his knees made contact.

  Luke gave his head a rough shake, but there wasn’t enough time to recover before Jarrod crashed into him. They teetered on the ledge, a whirl of arms before Jarrod pushed his hands into Luke’s chest—the last momentum needed to topple them both over the edge.

  “No!” Eden yelled. She leaped for Jarrod’s arm, barely caught it in time. His head snapped up, eyes panicked as his body hit the building. Her fingernails scraped his skin, his other hand whipping up, trying to catch her hand as her grip slipped down to his wrist. “Jarrod!” For a second she thought she had him, but his fingers slid through hers.

  She tipped over the edge, one hand stretching into the empty air as he dropped. The other desperately swatted away the hands grasping her waist. A tangle of arms wrapped around it, pulling her back.

  Ten stories below, the two bodies laid on the debris in a shattered heap.

  “He’s moving,” Az said from beside her. Luke wriggled out from under Jarrod’s legs, flopping them off to the side.

  “We gotta get down there. I gotta dose Jarrod. He’ll need more Touch to heal.” She winced, spasms cramping her abdomen. “I have to get rid of some too.”

  Luke’s face snapped up. He reached for Jarrod’s face, yanking the jaw back and forth before Luke dropped his hand. The deadweight of Jarrod’s head smacked back against the ground.

  Even from the roof she could make out the smile twisting Luke’s mouth.

  “It’s a start,” he yelled up, his voice ricocheting between the buildings, the threat echoing in doubles. He rose slowly as if testing his limbs to make sure they still worked, then lifted Jarrod over his shoulder. “We’re not done, love,” he promised before he winced, an arm slung tight across his ribs. He only made it a few steps before he fell to his knees.

  “You’re fucking right we’re not done,” Eden yelled, her hands curled over the edge. She clambered to her feet. “Gabe! Come on! He’s headed out of the alley!” Gabe stared at her blankly, like she spoke something close to, but not quite, English.

  “What are you waiting for! If he takes Jarrod, he’ll torture him!”

  Gabe moved toward her. The look in his eyes shifted something inside her, her blood running cold. His head tipped to the left, the angle strange, almost avian.

  Az stepped closer to her. “Careful. He’s not himself right now.”

  “I don’t care what he did, Az.” She moved forward, shaking her hand free when Az grabbed for it. “Gabe, I forgive you. It doesn’t matter anymore. But we need to go get Jarrod now.” Eden bolted across the roof, down the rusted ladder, not waiting for Az with his wounded limp.

  Luke hadn’t made it far. He kneeled half a dozen paces from where Jarrod leaned up against a wall. Eden kept an eye on Luke as she dropped down, leaned in to dose Jarrod with Touch.

  “That should help. Give it a minute.” She squeezed his shoulders. “You okay?”

  “Okay is a bit of a stretch. Not so tight.” She pulled back enough to catch his pained smile and settled for a death grip on his hands. “I was so right,” he said.

  “About what?” Eden asked, confused.

  “Skin and concrete. So don’t mix.” Jarrod grimaced.

  “Don’t come any closer.” At Az’s voice, she looked up, her smile faltering. Luke swayed on his feet.

  “What’re you gonna do?” he challenged, a bubble of blood popping from his mouth to coat his chin red.

  “He couldn’t carry me,” Jarrod said. “He’s bluffing.”

  Eden’s eyes flicked to Az. He hesitated. “You can barely stand. It’s over, Luke.”

  Luke smeared his hand across his lips, fresh blood coloring the skin even as he wiped it clean. He gave a resigned nod.

  “For now. Two out of three isn’t so bad.” He started to stumble away, holding himself up on the wall.

  “Eden isn’t yours,” Az called after him.

  Luke looked back. “Gabe made her. Her Siders go Downstairs now.”

  Then he turned the corner. Eden shuddered. It was over. She felt Az’s arm at her waist, turned into his arms.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” she said, tucking her head onto his shoulder. He rubbed a hand down her back, ran the fingers of his other through her hair.

  “Never.” He pulled back, gazing into her eyes. “I love you.”

  She ached to kiss him, knew she couldn’t. “I love you too.”

  He leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes. Is this all we’ll be able to have?

  “Az,” she said quietly. “Was Luke right? About my Siders going Downstairs.”

  She wasn’t sure he would answer, but he whispered, “I don’t know. I think he might be.” He wrapped his arms around her again. “We’ll make sure before you take any more Siders, okay?” Eden thought about Libby, crumbling into nothing. Too late, she thought.

  Jarrod let out a long moan. She pulled out of Az’s arms, dropping down to him. “You all right?”

  “Everything hurts,” he mumbled, his breaths sharp, erratic pulls for air. His skin was pale.

  “Jarrod needs rest. Help me get him up.” Eden glanced past Az as they struggled to get Jarrod to his feet. “Where’s Gabriel?”

  “He Fell, Eden.”

  “I know that. But where is he now?”

  Az wouldn’t look at her, shrugged a shoulder under Jarrod’s arm to take on more of his weight. When Az spoke, his voice came out quiet and broken.

  “There is no Gabriel anymore.”

  EPILOGUE

  Hovering behind them, Gabe let his gaze wander to Az. Az he knew.

  Az he could count on, even if he was only half Fallen. Gabe stepped forward. The black-haired girl, pink strands twisting wild. The boy who’d swan dived off the roof.

  The girl was next to Az. Did she belong to him? He held a hand out, but stopped when he caught the look of caged fear in Az’s wary glance back, the way he moved to put himself between Gabe and the girl.

  Gabe tensed. Something was wrong. Why was Az protecting a mortal? They were such dispensable, delicate toys.

  Gabe stepped back from them slowly.

  The girl was…Vague, foggy memories rose like bubbles in a tar pit, never quite reaching the surface, caught under a layer of sticky darkness. The memory of her was trapped in there somewhere. She felt safe, harmless but…not. He inhaled, searching the air for clues, thoughts. An old habit? Either way it didn’t work.

  But the girl? His head pounded as he tried to put it together. Eden. Her name. It had to be. Whenever she spoke, it rang through him like a melody. She, Eden, was sitting up now, getting t
o her feet. Az reached out, grabbed her hand. There was kindness on her face when she glanced at Az, a blatant weakness that dulled the curves of cheekbones with such potential for cruelty. So wasteful.

  Gabe stood back from their little group. He had no reason to stay any longer.

  The others didn’t notice his absence. They were not his kind. He wandered off toward the street. He could sense wicked beings, dark like him, huddled in the dim recesses of the dilapidated buildings flanking the blacktop. The possibility of wicked things was crisp on his tongue, begging to be tasted.

  Squinting through the dim shades of morning, Gabe followed the cracked sidewalk alone.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks go out to my made-of-awesome agent, Rosemary Stimola, who believed in this book even when it was missing rather important pieces (like…the first hundred or so pages) and for finding it the perfect home at Greenwillow. And to my editor, Martha Mihalick, and her mighty Editorial Pencil of Doom for pushing me harder and farther than I ever thought I could go. Both my book and I thank you for it.

  Thanks to my mom and dad, my sister Marley, and my brother John, who’ve shown me crazy amounts of support, and to Heather Aslaksen who (somehow) kept me sane(-ish) by knowing the exact moment to smile and to nod when I started talking about plot holes. To Erin, Anna, and Devyn, for always being up for adventure, and to Jacinda, for giving Luke a song to sing. To Tracy Corso, who kept my secrets in the vault and who I’m sure is the only boss to let an employee stay home and write if the words were flowing. To the whole crew at QueryTracker, especially Patrick, Jason, Mary, and Jess, who kept me going, and to Chris McDonald for being one of my first readers. To the YA Rebels, past, present, and future, for being awesome.

  And to Scott Tracey, who uttered the words, “At least he made an impact” to start our friendship, the line “Skin and concrete do not mix” to start this book, and who more times than I can count has picked up my pieces and set me back on the ledge. Thanks.

  About the Author

  LEAH CLIFFORD has been an extreme-cave-tour guide, a camp counselor, a flight attendant, a pizza delivery girl, a waitress, and a grocery store clerk. Now she adds author to that list. She lives near Cleveland, Ohio. This is her first book.

  www.leahclifford.com

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Credits

  Jacket © 2011 by Ali Smith Photography

  Jacket design by Paul Zakris

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  A TOUCH MORTAL. Copyright © 2011 by Leah Clifford. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Clifford, Leah.

  A touch mortal / by Leah Clifford.

  p. cm.

  “Greenwillow Books.”

  Summary: Eden, once a lonely human who lost her heart to a fallen angel and now trapped between Heaven and Hell, discovers that her Touch can strip away the morals and logic of mortals, but may also be able to provide Siders like herself with release.

  ISBN 978-0-06-200499-4 (trade bdg.)—ISBN 978-0-06-200500-7 (lib. bdg.)

  [1. Future life—Fiction. 2. Angels—Fiction. 3. Demonology—Fiction. 4. Dead—Fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.C622148Tou 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010011695

  FIRST EDITION

  EPub Edition © January 2011 ISBN: 978-0-06-206974-0

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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