The Siders Box Set

by Leah Clifford

  Dead. The word echoed through her mind. If she were dead, there would be something else, something after, none of the grief cleaving her heart in two. Shaking, she sunk onto the bed. Did I really die? Is that why I can’t remember? Her brain felt fried, overloaded.

  She stared at the door, too numb to cry. There was nothing to do but wait for it to be opened. Eden gave herself a minute and then sucked a cleansing breath and pawed the tears from her cheeks. No, she thought. I’m not waiting. And then she began her systematic search for some way to pry open the door.

  Chapter 11

  A hesitant rap on the door dragged Eden out of the fugue state she’d passed the night in. She bolted upright as the door clicked open. She’d struggled to get the damn thing unlocked for hours before she’d finally realized the effort had been useless.

  A guy peered around the door, not bothering to hide his stare while he sized her up. Eden returned the favor. Shaggy brown hair, maybe a few years older than her. Jeans and a t-shirt for some band she’d never heard of. He looked normal enough. Maybe last night’s costumes were just that. Costumes.

  “Breakfast?” He moved his arm in past the door, revealing a covered silver tray. The smell of bacon and syrup drifted across the room. “Yeah?” He waggled the tray a bit, smiling.

  “I'm not hungry.” The dead don't eat, anyway, she thought. Fresh tears filled her eyes. She yanked her ponytail holder free, rubbing her face before she rebound the tangled mess of her hair.

  Her lips pressed together but her stomach betrayed her, belting out a low protest.

  “Not hungry, huh?” He crossed the room and plopped down on her bed uninvited. A puff of steam escaped as he lifted the lid. “I’m taking your bacon then.”

  “Where’s Gabriel?”

  “Don’t know any Gabriels.” True to his word, he tossed half of a strip of bacon into his mouth.

  “But you know Kristen?” she asked, eyeing him.

  He laughed. “I definitely know Kristen. I live here.”

  “So, you’re…dead.” He nodded, nonplussed, and crunched another piece of bacon. “If you’re dead, why are you eating?”

  “Because bacon is awesome? You can eat or not, your call.” He shrugged. “Oh!” he said, digging into his back pocket. “Mail call.” He threw an oversized manila envelope at her. It spun through the air, one of the points catching her skin as it hit her chest. When he'd finished his mouthful of bacon, he added, "I'm Adam."

  There was a chance, however slight, he was sane. For now, any semblance of a violent streak seemed placated by pillaging her abandoned pancakes.

  "Eden." She held her hand out.

  He let out a quiet chuckle and cocked a finger at her.

  “We shake hands, it’s gonna get ugly.” He traded a smile for her blank stare. “Once you’ve been here a while, you’ll stop reacting to the other Siders.”

  She flashed back to the ball, the dozen guys in their formal wear, the girls in gowns. "Yesterday you were all wearing gloves."

  “Look, Kristen went all Dawn of the Dead on you, right?” he asked, gesturing to his face. “She wasn’t rotting in real time. You haven’t been around her, so your Touch dropped her glamour. We don’t spend enough time with the other boroughs to grow immune, and yesterday Madeline’s group came in from Queens. Hence the gloves.”

  I’m in New York? she thought. “Madeline. She’s the one I talked to last night.”

  Adam froze. “You talked to Madeline?”

  Something in the way Adam gaped at her told her she’d pulled off some kind of undead faux pas. “She seemed a lot less crazy than Kristen,” Eden offered.

  Adam dropped the fork to the tray, sliding it away. “Crazy’s not always the worst thing.” He paused long enough for her to wonder if he would go on.

  “So, you look…” She swallowed. “If I touch you, you’ll look like Kristen did?”

  “Not as rotty as she probably did. The more Touch you’re storing the worse you tend to look, and Kristen is always testing the limits. Probably has a lot to do with how come she’s…” He trailed off, giving the door a quick glance before he twirled his hand around his temple. “Do you wanna see what I look like? I mean, I don’t just go revealing my inner self to every girl I meet but...” Adam held out his arm, curling his fingers into a loose fist. “Go ahead.”

  She jiggled her knee, her finger flexing closer. “Will it hurt you?”

  “Won’t feel a thing.”

  She kept her eyes on his face as her finger brushed against his wrist. His skin sallowed, the cheeks hollowing out. His brown eyes clouded over but didn’t burst the way Kristen’s had. Clusters of blackened capillaries bruised a thick ring around his neck. And then it was over. His features shimmered into place as the glamour took hold again.

  “Not so bad, right?” Adam dropped his hand to his lap. Eden let out an awkward laugh but shook her head. “A few more days here and nothing will happen when you touch me. Do you wanna see what you look like? Because I can show you.” He pointed to the mirror above the dresser.

  “Will it be gross?”

  “Nah, you can’t have built up much Touch. You’re like, what? One day in? You’ll still look good.” He paused, open mouthed as he realized what he’d said.

  “Here,” she said quickly, offering him her own arm.

  A subtle tingle raced across her hairline at the contact, down her spine. Adam yanked back.

  “What? What is it?” Eden twisted to the mirror, caught the fading dull cream of her skull, cheekbones under her stripped flesh before her skin knitted over again.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  “I’m not supposed to look like that, am I?” She tore her eyes from the mirror. “You said it wouldn’t be like that!”

  “How the hell?” He sounded out each word. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Look, obviously you’re not new to this, and I have no idea how you’re storing that much and still functioning, but you are far too potent. If you just needed somewhere to crash for the night, fine, but I’d get out while you can. Kristen’s worse than any rumor you’ve heard. You can’t let her see you without your glamour. She’ll make you a Screamer.”

  “A what?”

  “She locks them in their rooms. Doesn’t let them pass Touch. We don’t see them again. But we hear them.” He narrowed his eyes and gave his head a sharp shake. “How are you even sane right now?”

  “Why did I look like that? What’s Touch?” she begged as he slid off the bed, putting distance between them. “Adam, please.”

  His tone shifted, coming out strained, formal. “Kristen has requested the pleasure of your company in the foyer once you’ve finished breakfast. There’s a shower across the hall.”

  He opened the door and dared a quick glance back at her before he slipped out without another word.

  She waited for the click of the key in the lock. When it didn’t come, her eyes fell to the large envelope waiting beside her, her name splayed across the front.

  She ripped at the sealed flap, swiping the inside. At first she thought it was empty, but then the edge of a photograph slipped under her nail. She pulled it out.

  “Oh,” she whispered. The sudden image of Az caught her off guard, tears blurring his face. She blinked hard until he cleared. Her eyes were closed in the shot; her head in Az’s lap as he’d leaned down to kiss her forehead. They looked deliriously happy. She ran her fingers reverently over its surface.

  She slid the picture back into the envelope, glancing around the room for a safe place to keep it. She hadn’t known Gabe had snapped the picture. Had never seen it before now. There wouldn’t be enough words to tell him how much it meant to her when she saw him again.

  If she saw him again.

  Chapter 12

  Eden descended the stairs, scoping out the room below, but there was no sign of a trap. No sign of Sebastian or Adam waiting to ambush her. Only Kristen, flopped across an overstuffed armchair. One of her legs swung idly over an armrest, her han
d draped across her forehead.

  She wore a different dress, this one a dark blue vintage circa 1950. Nothing as garish as last night’s ball gown. Judging by how Kristen had stocked the closet in Eden’s room, dresses were apparently her thing. Eden hadn’t managed to find much that was passable in the dresser. A black skirt and a few layered tank tops had gotten the job done.

  Kristen sat up at the creaking stairs. “Dear Lord, child. Does it always take you so long to shower?”

  Eden didn’t answer. She’d held herself together last night and through breakfast, but once she stepped under the faucet head, with the water streaming over her, she’d given in to her grief. A hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her cry, the spray had stripped the tears from her before they’d had a chance to fall. Now, she felt nothing but hollow.

  “You’re not afraid of me after last night?” She took Eden’s silence for a no and catapulted herself out of the chair. “Wonderful! I thought perhaps you’d like to go somewhere with me.”

  Eden’s brow wrinkled. “What, outside?”

  “This isn’t a prison, Eden.” With a glance up the stairs Kristen cupped the side of her hand around her mouth and stage whispered, “at least not to you,” her over-theatrical wink laced with sarcasm.

  “Which is why you locked me in last night?”

  “Oh, come. Let’s not be bitter about last night. I’d like you to feel at home during your stay here.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “Long enough,” Kristen offered as a non-answer.

  “Where’s Gabe?” Eden asked, knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. If he had left her here, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back. Maybe it was because of what had happened to Az. “Is he Upstairs?”

  Kristen raised an eyebrow. “You mean a lot to Gabriel. He cares about you.”

  Eden nodded, unsure where Kristen planned to go with the conversation. “He’s my friend. I want to make sure he’s okay. We just lost Az.” She hesitated, forcing herself to stop. “You keep saying you know him, but you don’t seem to know anything about him.”

  Kristen’s stare was piercing. “I don’t give away his secrets to those I don’t trust. Knowledge is power, Eden, and Gabriel is important to me. You’ll forgive me if I’m not as loose with sensitive information as you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eden couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. She felt like1 she was in some nightmare. That she’d wake up curled next to Az in the bed at the hotel. But dreams were painless. The ache in her chest drummed reality against her ribcage with every beat, and she’d never wake up next to him again.

  “Last night you told Madeline you were with Az. His girlfriend,” Kristen said.

  “So? I—” Eden cut off, not sure what tense to use. Am his girlfriend? Was his girlfriend?

  “Did you even stop to wonder if Madeline might be loyal to the Fallen before you babbled away?” Kristen shook her head, her features pulled tight in disappointment. It seemed directed at herself rather than Eden.

  “She told the Fallen about me?” Eden managed. Her heart hammered. “Gabe trusted you and you gave me right to Madeline?”

  Anger flashed across Kristen’s face. “Luckily, the girl can be bought, so she’s keeping your secret for now. Cameron should never have allowed you to talk to her. It’s important that the Fallen believe you died on that beach. Just as it was important that Madeline see you. Important she think you were just another Sider. But you went and spoiled it. You don’t understand what the Fallen will do to you, just to hurt him.”

  “If Az is dead, what does it matter?”

  Kristen faltered before her look went even. “You’re a liability, Eden. I don’t particularly adore you being here. Not until I see you can be trusted.”

  “Is this that whole ‘welcoming’ thing you keep talking about?” Eden snipped. “Because I can go.”

  “Where?” Kristen smirked. “I don’t know what Gabriel sees in you,” she said, walking toward the front door. “But I promised him I’d keep you in one piece. We’re going to start over with some girl bonding. Bonding builds trust. I’ve had quite the exhausting morning. I thought we’d unwind with some window shopping.”

  Now it was Eden’s turn to stare. “You want me to go shopping with you?”

  “We won’t be bringing anything home today, just looking. But it’ll grant me the opportunity to kill two birds.”

  Eden shadowed her down the steps, following the path to the sidewalk. When she glanced back, she caught her first view of the sprawling house from outside. It offered no hint as to what went on behind the closed door.

  “Come, come,” Kristen hummed, snapping her fingers. “I must admit, I thought I’d have to revisit last night’s little show at least once to convince you that you hadn’t lost your mind.” She slowed her pace to match Eden’s, scooting over to make room so they could walk side by side. “The tenacity does earn you a point or two.”

  “Does it?” Eden’s voice was flat. She eyed the street, warily. The neighborhood looked normal enough. Her muscles tensed as she debated making a run for it. Quiet neighborhood, no transportation. Sure, she could take off. But Kristen was right. Where would she go?

  They walked by the arched walkway of an estate, rose bushes climbing the trellis. Kristen snagged a bloom, caressed it as they walked.

  “I’d rather Gabriel and Az not be mentioned by name under my roof.” She ripped a petal free of the flower, casting it aside. “No one really knows much about the Siders. Gabriel’s trying to figure things out, but until then, it’s best his association with us be kept quiet. I’m sure he’ll be in contact soon.”

  “And I just wait?” Eden sighed hard. “I wake up in some random house, I’m told all kinds of crazy, and now I’m supposed to what? Stay here?”

  Kristen stopped dead. “Let’s get something straight. With Az and Gabriel in your past, you’re nearly guaranteed to be trouble to anyone you encounter. You were damn lucky to have me take you in. No Sider wants the Fallen knocking on her door. You’re here to learn. Not to pontificate the cruelties of fate. Those you surround yourself with should fall into one of two categories. The used, or the amusing.” She gripped the rose high up on the stem and snapped off the bloom with her thumb. The break wasn’t clean. The head dangled, damaged beyond repair. “You’d be wise to pick a category, Eden, because anyone else is a burden to me.”

  “So which one is Gabe?”

  Kristen froze. A plastic grin swept her lips up. “Lesson two. Everyone has a weakness. Loyalty happens to be mine.” She let the flower fall, careful to step around it. “Tenacious and maybe even a bit clever. See! Our bonding is working! I like you a little more already.”

  Kristen dug into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a dainty silver case. She snapped it open, palming a piece of paper before she offered Eden one of the clove cigarettes lining the inside. Even before Eden shook her head, Kristen had lit one for herself and tucked the case away.

  “Quite a pleasant surprise. When I found Az was with a mortal, I assumed he was just slumming.”

  Eden winced at his name, but Kristen didn’t seem to notice. “Slumming?”

  “The Fallen have their little digressions. Mortals are shiny to angels, but they don’t belong with them. Those silly girls never manage to sink their claws in for very long.” Kristen’s lips pressed together as if she realized she’d said too much.

  “It wasn’t like that with us.” Eden stared off down the street, searching for a question, anything to camouflage the empty heaviness every time she thought of him, heard his name.

  Kristen took a long drag and made a weak attempt at blowing a smoke ring. The circle wobbled and broke apart as it left her lips. “Sebastian doesn’t approve of me smoking. Says it sets a bad example. But it’s the one vice I could never quite shake.”

  For a girl who claimed knowledge was power, she sure seemed to be doling it out.

  “It’s not like it’s gonna ki
ll you,” Eden said. “You’re dead. Or undead.” A guy across the street caught Eden’s attention. She watched him walk, tuning Kristen out. Eden couldn’t take her eyes off the guy. His hair wasn’t curly enough, not quite the right shade of brown. She shifted her eyes to the house beyond him, let him fall further out of focus. Better, she thought.

  “If I’m dead, where’s Az?” she asked. The guy must have felt her staring, turned toward her. Eden’s stomach dropped, but from the front there wasn’t even a passing resemblance. From the corner of her eye, Eden caught the shake of Kristen’s head, spun just in time to catch her gaze flash to the guy and back.

  “You may have killed yourself thinking you’d get to be with him, but this isn’t the afterlife, Sweetpea. It’s the Bronx.” Kristen flicked the cigarette and hit it again. “You won’t find him here.”

  Kristen dropped what was left of the cigarette, crushing it underfoot with her last step before she came to a stop. She handed over the piece of newspaper she’d been holding.

  The picture showed a woman in her twenties. Eden scanned the article. Car accident. Fashion student. “What’s this?”

  “Passing knowledge of the deceased. Proper funeral crashing etiquette dictates at least knowing her name.” Kristen tipped her head to the side.

  The parlor looked like a normal house, designed to blend from the white siding down to the choice of flowers in the mulched beds. Only the wooden sign staked in the middle of the lawn betrayed its purpose. That and the well-dressed mourners plodding up the walkway. Cars lined either side of the street.

  “It’s packed in there already and we’re fifteen minutes early. My theory, proven once again,” Kristen said, climbing the stairs.

  “What theory would that be?”

  “Everyone adores a tragedy.” The door opened before them, the suited usher nodding, his expression serious until he actually looked at them.

  “Hey Paul.” Kristen raised a hand, giving him a slight wiggle of her fingers. She gasped, gripping the sides of her dress in excitement. “You’ve redecorated! And such a wonderful eye for color! Cheers to the death of that dreadful wallpaper,” she exclaimed, taking in the hallway beyond. “Eden, meet Paul. His dad owns this place.”