She looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to tell her. “Well, you shouldn’t take stuff while your head’s messed up. Dangerous combination. Especially with Touch.”
Sullivan leaned back in the seat.
“Listen. I appreciate the dinner. Well, dinners. I just want to get tipped. Preferably without your pathetic attempt at hitting on me. I’m not for sale.” She folded her arms over her chest, slumped back with a glare.
Jarrod balked. He felt his face flush. “I wasn’t hitting on you. Enchiladas aren’t exactly an aphrodisiac.” He thought he saw amusement in her eyes, the start of a smile on her lips, but then her scowl deepened. “Trust me, Sullivan,” he said earnestly. “You don’t want the Touch.”
“No? It’s not exactly my first time, you know. I was with him for three months.”
“With who for three months?”
“Vaughn,” she spat, exasperated. “You want info? Fine. He ran all the clubs. The parties. Had quite a few people under him. They talked about your friend. Her name’s Eden, right?”
Jarrod nodded, stunned silent by her rant.
“They saw the papers about what happened at the rave. If you could get me a meeting with her, I know I could help you guys out.” She dropped her hands absently to the table, her fingers circling her wrists like handcuffs, the skin reddening as she wrung them. “Vaughn had me spreading the word. Marketing. That sort of thing. I could help.” Her desperation inched her forward. “I’ll work off what you give me. Front me it this one time.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shook his head. “You’re addicted.”
He expected her to deny it, pull the “I can quit anytime” thing. Instead, she held out a hand, the slight shake in her fingers almost imperceptible. “Now, do you have it or not?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit you up with it right now,” he said.
She jumped up out of the booth. “Forget it. I heard someone’s got a stash in Queens now.”
“No!” Jarrod yelled before he could stop himself. “Um, no, that’s an even worse idea.” No way could he let her try to track down Madeline. “Wait, who’s telling you where to get it?”
She turned for the door.
“Sullivan, stop.” He pulled out his wallet. “Twenty bucks to tell me how you knew to find me.”
At the mention of the money, her hand paused on the handle, but she shook her head slightly.
“Hey,” he said, getting up and grabbing her arm. The momentum spun her. One hand went for the money. The other snapped up to his wrist, her thumb deliberately catching the cuff of his glove. Her fingers wormed inside, slipping across his sweaty palm.
Touch passed, leaving him in a rush, his breath catching, brain panicking. He ripped his hand away, but it was too late. Far too late.
She laughed.
“You don’t know how fucking stupid that was!” he yelled.
“Jesus, relax. I’m good for it, thanks to you.” She winked and tried to hand him back the twenty as she slipped out the door. He followed her to the sidewalk.
He tightened his fists, the muscles of his arm screaming for action. He used every bit of his restraint not to punch the brick wall beside them. “I don’t deal it. It’s not a drug, okay?”
“No shit, Sherlock. So much for not treating me like an idiot.” She threw a hand on her hip, taking a few steps back. “Right. Guess we’re done here then.”
Her feet kept moving, slow at first like she thought he’d give chase. He stared after her, no idea what to do. He hadn’t spread in weeks, but he was still using the Touch to heal. Would that make it more concentrated? Less? Whoever had been passing to her had tossed her, and she’d mentioned at least one dead friend. She knew about the Siders, and obviously knew more than she’d told him. And now she was halfway down the block, fading into the crowd.
“Shit,” Jarrod mumbled, and then broke into a run. “Wait! Sullivan. Hold up.”
She tensed, almost crouched, like the thought crossed her mind to break for it. She looked like she might. “What do you want?”
Jarrod stared her dead in the eyes. “I haven’t passed any out in a long time. I don’t know if it’ll be too strong, or work at all. It could be bad.”
“I’m fine. I have a hotel room. I’ll ride it out.”
“You won’t make it through alone.” He moved closer. “I could help you.”
She looked up. “Why?”
He didn’t bother sugarcoating. “Nothing more than personal gain. You shouldn’t be addicted like this. I want to figure out why you are. That’s it. No catch. I need you alive to get my info, and you won’t be if I don’t help.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He paused, realized he’d never told her, that she’d never asked. “Jarrod.”
She nodded once. “Jarrod, you are bizarre.”
CHAPTER 13
Kristen closed an eye and dusted from lashes to brow bone with a deep maroon shadow. It didn’t do much to slow her hammering heart. Luke’s show at Aerie would be over by now. She recited half a dozen poems from memory, the cadence of the words soothing her.
After a second layer of mascara, she studied herself in the mirror.
The image was striking. She’d grown used to her thrown-together look, the lack of makeup. Of effort. The fact that she was making the effort for Luke didn’t raise any feelings of guilt. This was about false promises of things he couldn’t have. Simply playing a game. And if brushing her hair and wearing a tight top gave her an advantage, Kristen would work the angle. Luke didn’t have many weaknesses to prey upon.
There were no other options without Gabriel. Already her mind had started to crumble again. She hadn’t let Luke in enough to gift herself more than a day or two of sanity.
And they both knew it.
“If Gabriel would answer his damnable phone,” Kristen mumbled to her reflection, one finger stretching her eyelid, applying liner with a heavy hand. It’s been weeks. He knows you’re struggling. He must. He doesn’t care. She ignored the voice. “When he finds out how bad he let things get, he’ll never leave again.” She knew she sounded like a petulant child, didn’t care.
Luke, however, had answered her earlier phone call on the first ring.
She stared at herself for another long second.
“Keep yourself together,” she whispered to the girl in the mirror. The lips moved along with hers, but Kristen wasn’t sure if the girl in the image was acquiescing or mocking.
She lifted her phone from the vanity with a shaking hand, texted Sebastian: “Not to be bothered tonight.”
She stabbed Gabriel’s number on the speed dial in one last Hail Mary chance.
“Please,” she whispered. It rang twice and went to voice mail.
“You’re angry,” she pleaded into the phone after the beep. “Want me punished? I promise, I’m punished. I’m more sorry than you could ever dream.” Her stomach felt too hollow, empty. She softened her tone. “Gabe. Where are you?”
She hung up, tossed the phone aside. Eden would have gone after Az anyway that morning. So Kristen had given her every bit of Touch she’d had. And not only for Eden. Because Kristen’s first thought had been Gabriel. How much it would hurt him to lose Az to the Fallen. For a bitter moment she wondered what he’d do if he lost her to the Fallen.
Kristen pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest. Deep inside her, things were breaking. He is losing me to the Fallen, she realized.
The floorboards creaked softly outside her door.
She slipped off the bed and crossed the room. At least Luke had done her the favor of using the back entrance. She lifted her hand, pressed it against the wood without opening it. From the other side there was only silence. It was her last chance to pull out.
She turned the knob.
Luke stood in the dark hall, his guitar case by his side. She’d been right in guessing that he’d come straight from the show. She could smell the
club on him—sweat and smoke and sex—the scents of the crowd.
She staggered back, giving him a stiff nod. He stepped farther into the room and set the black case near the door, then stooped down to unlace his heavy combat boots. He lifted his head as he slipped out of them.
They stood, staring at each other. Luke’s smile flared and then faded, a gift he offered only to take away. Everything about him was at ease.
Except for his eyes. Those drank her in with a thirst she wasn’t prepared for. “How’s it been, my little oubliette?”
“Oubliette? A dungeon? You’re losing your touch, Luke.” She let out a condescending laugh, ignored the flutter in her stomach. “A one-night stand doesn’t exactly qualify as imprisonment.”
“A one-night stand doesn’t typically last three months,” he shot back. “You’re right, though. The word is all wrong.” His fingers, calloused from playing, brushed her hair back, tucking the waves behind her ear. She meant to throw a hand up on his chest, enough to push him back a pace. Her fingers gripped his shoulder. “See, an oubliette is something meant to be forgotten.” His hand wound across the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “But I remember every delicious detail of you,” he murmured.
Her breath caught, and she dropped her hand from his shoulder. “It’s been a year,” she said quickly. “God knows you’ve moved on.”
He didn’t break her gaze. “God knows nothing.”
Kristen shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. You’re not looking to rehash a fling, she chastised herself. She took a breath to calm her nerves and then let out a disgusted sigh. “Bored without the blonde? Libby? That’s her name, right?” She cocked her head, her tone venomous as she covered her mouth lightly with her hand. “Oops! I guess I should say that was her name.”
The twinkle slid from Luke’s eyes. He went eerily still. “That was business, Kristen. You of all people know sometimes we have to play nice to get what we want.” She heard his coat hit the floor and then his body pressed against hers, an inferno. His hands slid down through her hair. His mouth grazed her neck before rising to her ear. “Aren’t we here to play nice?”
“Business.” Her voice shook. Inside the safety of her pocket, her fingernails cut into her palm. Don’t let him play you. You know how to work him, she reminded herself. “We’re here for business.”
“Hmm.” His lips hummed again her neck. “So you honestly don’t miss us?”
She couldn’t move. “It was a lapse in judgment.”
“A bad dream you found it safer to forget,” he mocked. “You and I? We had a good thing.”
“It was a lapse,” she repeated carefully, “in judgment.”
From her left, she heard a pop, a crackling like a firework on half volume. She opened her eyes and turned toward the sound, confused. Somewhere near the back of her skull, a dull noise started. A flutter of words she couldn’t quite make out. The room flexed almost imperceptibly.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Luke’s hands stilled instantly. The thrill of whatever game they’d been playing, the back and forth, fell away. “Kristen?”
The whispers intensified, a white wall of sound suddenly rushing to take over. Her eyelids fluttered, heat rushing to her cheeks in a panicked flush. She couldn’t catch her breath.
“Look at you!” Luke squeezed the sides of her face. “They left you doomed and clueless, and I’m the enemy?”
“What are you talking about, ‘doomed’?” She tried to focus on Luke, but a dozen thoughts cascaded through her mind. He had to know she was in a tiff with Gabriel, because of her state, but that didn’t qualify as doomed. Death couldn’t touch her. Neither the Fallen nor the Bound could kill Siders. The Bound didn’t even know about them. Unless they found out, a voice whispered.
He let her go, strode across the room, and sat on the bed as a terrible thought struck her. What if Gabriel wasn’t ignoring her calls because he was angry?
“Clueless about what, Luke?” If the Bound knew Gabriel kept the Siders’ secrets over his commitment to them, they’d have him punished. Confined. “Damn it, answer me!”
He patted the space on the quilt beside him. “Sit.”
Her unease shifted to dread as she did.
Luke toyed with her rings, twirling them along her fingers, before he pulled them off one by one. The rubies on her middle finger stuck on her knuckle as they always did. She lifted her finger to her mouth, wetting the ring enough to slip it off. She added it to the pile in Luke’s hand. He stripped the bands from her other hand.
“It’s been a while since we’ve played,” he said quietly. “You remember?”
She nodded. Each ring worth a question and an honest answer. A game. She glanced down at the pile of metal and jewels in his hand. Five questions, five answers. Luke met her eyes.
“Ask.”
She hesitated. He would answer the questions, but he’d be getting his own information from what she asked.
“Do the Bound know about the Siders?”
He took her hand and carefully slid the gaudy emerald onto her finger. “Yes.”
She gasped, trying to pull her hand away and stand. Luke held on. If the Bound knew about the Siders, they’d be trying to find a way to eradicate them. And Gabriel? Kristen thought, her horror turning to shame. He hadn’t called her back because he was in trouble. She covered her face with her free hand. She’d thought he was angry and petty, and he was probably worried sick about her. “Let me go.”
“No.” Luke’s tone stopped her dead. His dark eyes glittered like the gems. “We’re not done.”
She had to use the questions she had left to gain the most information. “Do the Bound know how to kill us?”
“No.” Her head tilted in surprise as he slid the ring on. “Ask me how I knew you weren’t being helped.” He didn’t bother with the rings, answered anyway. “You didn’t call me in the park. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, waiting.” He didn’t look away as he said it.
“If the Bound know of the Siders, they know Gabriel wasn’t telling them. He’s being punished. And you,” she spat. “You waited for me to get sick so you could play games?”
He shook his head, adding another ring to her hand. “He must have suffered so much to keep his secrets. To stay,” he said as he looked up at her. “You can’t believe he’d let the Bound keep him from you.”
She drew a shallow breath, enough air to speak the words. “What have you done to Gabriel?”
“Not a thing. We played the same roles for millennia, he and I, and nothing had ever changed,” he said. The gold band was back on her thumb. “No one can force a Fall.”
“He… No.” She yanked her hands from his, stumbling away. She made it to the chair, clutched the back of it. Get it together, a voice said stubbornly. You’re showing him all your weakness. He’ll break you with it.
Luke’s leg bounced, energy finding its way out. “He confessed. A murder, at his hands.”
“It’s not possible. There must have been a mistake.” She wanted him to be lying so badly she ached.
It hit her. Sudden terror. Gabriel. Fallen. She couldn’t catch her breath, swayed against the chair, her hands clenching the armrest in a death grip. If she could get Luke to say it, smile and say All a bad joke; I find your gullibility so amusing. “You swear to me, Luke. You swear to me you’re not lying.”
“I swear on all that I am.”
“I want to see him.” She couldn’t bear to move.
“Kristen, that’s not a good idea. He can’t control his impulses. He’s unstable.” It was written all over his face; he’d say no and leave and she’d never find Gabriel on her own. Not in the city.
“Luke, give me this one thing.” An idea blossomed, a desperate, dangerous thought. One that would have broken Gabriel’s heart to know she offered Lucifer. She dropped her eyes to the bed.
On the comforter lay the last ring. She held it up.
“Do you know where he is?”
; “Yes,” he said. She held out her hand and Luke pushed the ring on.
The static of voices had gone silent. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. “How do I find Gabriel?”
“No ring.” Luke’s eyes burned black, hungry. “You don’t get an answer.”
Kristen’s heart hammered in her chest. She could almost hear Gabe’s voice in her head screaming at her to stop, not to do it. She licked her lips and blurted out the words before she could let him talk her out of it. “If you answer me, I’ll owe you.”
Luke’s irises swirled an oily sheen, a frenzied moan breaking from him. “That’s open-ended, Kristen.” His tone was a warning, an out.
One she couldn’t heed.
“You tell me where to find Gabriel, and I’ll owe you one favor.”
Luke stared at her for a full minute before he spoke again. “He rides the trains.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“It won’t help, Kristen. You can’t get him back.”
“He made me a promise. I have faith in him.”
His laugh sent ice down her spine. “You’re better than blind faith. I can help you. Let me take care of you.”
She kept her head held high, looked him dead in the eye. “Never.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, gathering his boots as he opened the door. He blew her a kiss from the threshold.
“Never,” Kristen whispered to the empty room.
CHAPTER 14
Judging by the girl scowling on the matching twin bed beside him, Jarrod would be in for a long night. He glanced at the cracked clock radio on the nightstand between them. Three hours ago he’d thumbed the volume all the way down on his phone, turning off even the vibrate. First he’d fix this, get Sullivan through the dose, and then they’d go to Eden. It’d be better to face her wrath than show up with a mortal on Touch.
It’d been four hours. From what he knew, it should have taken effect by now. The real reason he hadn’t called Eden, he didn’t even want to admit to himself. He wouldn’t screw up again. Not like he had with trusting Libby. If Sullivan was a spy and he brought her to Eden, he’d never forgive himself. He had to be sure.
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