The Siders Box Set

by Leah Clifford

  “Wow,” Eden said with false enthusiasm. “Those are some stellar interpersonal skills you’ve got there, Mikey.” He snarled at the nickname, his teeth clacking as he snapped his jaw shut. “You know, Gabriel was my best friend. And yet he never mentioned the whole reeking thing. Go figure.”

  “His heart was kind. He’s cursed now for the care he bestowed,” Michael said with a sneer, glancing past her to Az. “Was it not enough to discard glories for soiled doves? Now you sully yourself with this pestilence?”

  “I made my choice. If you want Eden, you’re going to have to go through me.”

  “Not her,” Michael said with a wicked lilt to his words. “It’s you I come for, Azazel.”

  A shoulder bumped Eden. “We have a problem here?”

  A gasp of relief burst from her as she caught the dark uniform out of the corner of her eye. Seriously, a cop when she actually wanted one around.

  “No, sir. This asshole is leaving,” Eden said quickly, and then shot him an apologetic smile for the swear and shrugged. “Boys!”

  Michael did his weird head tilt again. The police officer raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Eden’s story, but unable to put together what was really going on.

  “I don’t want to see you again, Michael. We’re over!” Eden huffed. She grabbed Az’s hand and stormed off into the crowd.

  “Hey, wait!” she heard the cop yell after her, but knew he wouldn’t chase them. And if Michael tried, he’d be stopped. At least held up. Eden looked to Az beside her, caught the dark swirl of his eyes in the twinkle of lights from the tree.

  “Faster,” she said, darting them in the direction of the subway. She had to get him away from the crowd, from the danger of Michael—whoever Michael was—before he lost control.

  Chapter 8

  Jarrod yanked up his hood but the air whisked inside anyway, down the back of his neck.

  Pulling the cords of his hoodie, he rebalanced the three coffee cups and worked his zipper with one hand as the door to Milton’s closed behind him. He fumbled one of the cups, almost dropping it.

  “Need some help?” someone asked. When he looked up, his smile faded. The girl who’d acted so strangely hours ago at the counter stood in front of him. She made a grab for one of the coffees nestled in the crook of his arm.

  He recovered in time to twist out of her reach, even though he’d put his gloves on after he’d clocked out. “Thanks, I’m good.”

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted to say hi,” she said, following behind him on the sidewalk.

  He paused at the crosswalk and her shoulders rose in an apologetic shrug.

  “I saw you inside?” she offered as if the reason he was blowing her off had anything to do with not remembering her. She held out a hand. “I’m Sullivan.”

  “Sorry.” Jarrod took a subtle step away. “My hands are full.”

  “Well, I offered to help. Still stands.” The girl laughed when he shook his head. “I’m not freaking you out, am I? Are you sure you don’t want some help?” Her words sped up the more she talked, until they sounded almost frantic. Her hand floated there between them, waiting, begging to be touched. “Do you live near here?” she asked.

  As her attempt at friendly banter failed, her body language changed. She seemed like she was coiled in on herself, ready to spring any second. Her eyes locked on him.

  Jarrod backed away from her. He’d never seen a mortal with that expression. It reminded him of the look the Siders on the stairs had, driven dangerous with desperation. Her insistence at trying to shake his hand was a little too deliberate, a challenge, like he’d fail some test if he didn’t do it.

  “I’m actually busy. See ya,” he said, searching for a break in the traffic he could take advantage of instead of hoping for the crosswalk light to switch.

  “Wait,” she said. “Please.” He turned back, raising an eyebrow. She shifted uncomfortably. “Please, I need to talk to you for, like, a second, I promise.”

  “I don't do talking.” He spoke slowly, his voice annoyed.

  “If you could just listen--”

  “I don't do listening either.”

  Sullivan seemed to deflate a bit. “Shit. You seemed a lot nicer before.”

  Jarrod broke out a laugh before he could help himself. “Maybe you've never worked retail before, but when the people behind the counter smile at you, it's not because they're nice. It's because they're being paid.” The sign had cycled back to the flashing DON’T WALK. Cars were already rolling through, holding him hostage to the sidewalk. To her.

  “Please, touch my hand.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

  “It’s been two days since I got tipped,” she said in a rush. “I need it. Please.”

  An icy slither worked its way up his neck. “Tipped?”

  “Fingertips. The girl you were talking to at the counter earlier, you’re her friend. You deal, too?” Her eyes searched Jarrod’s. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Someone’s off her meds,” Jarrod managed, trying to keep his cool. A mortal after Touch. Impossible.

  “Look, I know I sound shady as hell...” She hesitated. “I lost my normal guy. He was a dick…so I’ve been going by word of mouth, looking for anyone.” She wrung her hands. Jarrod looked closer. The skin was raw, red.

  “I don't have any fucking clue what you’re talking about. Good luck with that, though.” He turned his back to her and crossed the street in a jog.

  “No!” Sullivan yelled in frustration. “I heard about the girl, the one with the pink hair. I've been trying to find her.” Jarrod whirled around before he could stop himself, people brushing past him. “She can get it for me then? If you won’t?”

  He shook his head. “We can’t help you,” he said.

  He could feel her stare until he was in the alley, out of her view. The girl was jacked up. Maybe she was a Sider who hasn’t figured it out yet.

  What the hell, he thought, trying to put the pieces together in any way that made sense. Maybe she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time too often. Gotten dosed a few times. Maybe someone had been lazy enough that they weren't spreading it out over the city. Were there Siders who only passed to a certain mortal?

  He left the alley, made it up the stairs to the apartment before he remembered Eden and Az had said they were going out. Inside, he dropped the two extra cups off in the kitchen and then headed back to the living room with his own.

  Before he tossed his coat across the back of the couch, he took out his cell phone and checked the time. Az had said they wouldn’t be out late. Jarrod sat on the couch. He’d run it by Eden when they got back.

  Sullivan. He tapped out a rhythm on his knee. Could she have gotten addicted to Touch?

  When Eden had still been taking out the Siders, she’d gotten too caught up. Jarrod had accused her of being addicted. His fingers stalled on his knee. Maybe Sullivan was like Eden, able to kill other Siders. Maybe Luke—or Gabe—had found another mortal without a path, made another Sider loyal to the Fallen, the way Libby had been before Eden killed her.

  Sider or not, Fallen or not, Sullivan was on her own. Last time he’d put his ass on the line it’d been for Libby, and she’d ended up luring them to Lucifer, almost getting them all killed.

  He stood, pacing.

  The pain of his fall from the roof had stopped, but he hadn’t spread Touch since he’d taken Luke over the edge with him. Since it wasn’t storing up, that meant his body still used it to heal. Even now, he knew his guts weren’t right.

  He rubbed absently at his arm. But this girl, he was almost positive she wasn’t a Sider. That Sullivan was mortal, was—

  “Not your problem.” He’d let Eden decide. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Seriously need to lose the hero complex.”

  He thought he heard Eden’s voice and perked up. Heard her again, closer, but still in the stairwell. Every second she was less muffled. Is she running?

>   He moved to the door as Eden and Az slammed through it, her eyes wild.

  She saw Jarrod, called his name. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “What’s wrong? Why is your hair green?”

  Her arms came up around Az. She reached past him and locked the door as if something would crash through at any moment. “Jarrod, help.”

  For the first time he noticed how Az shook.

  “Eden, what happened?” Jarrod demanded.

  She trembled, Az’s tremors running through her. “The Bound,” she managed.

  Jarrod’s mouth dropped open. The Bound had been a threat, but a nightmare one. Distant. “You saw them? Is he hurt?”

  Az’s legs went out. He slammed his hands over his ears, his fingers digging into the sides of his head as he dropped to his knees, rolled over onto his side.

  “No, Az!” Eden dropped, grabbed Az’s fingers and pried them away. “He’s Falling.”

  “Shit,” Jarrod whispered. He’d seen Az this way before, in the basement of the building with Luke. Adam had called and Jarrod had gone thinking he could talk him down. Jarrod thought Adam had been more shell-shocked than mad. And then Luke had shown up, and Adam’s eyes had glossed over. And the garden clippers. The steady drip of Az’s blood. Jarrod forced away the memories, came back to the present. “What do you need?” he asked Eden. “How do I help?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head, panicked. “We shouldn’t have gone out. He wasn’t this bad earlier.” Eden laid a hand on Az’s shoulder. “I thought he was better, that it would help him to get out.”

  “Earlier today?” Jarrod scanned the apartment with a hope that something would jump out at him, anything that could help. And then he had it. “This happened earlier, and you talked him down, didn’t you?” She blinked hard, nodded once. He gestured to Az. “So talk to him!”

  She grabbed Az’s face in her hands. “Az, look at me.” Her voice shook. “You open your eyes right now and you look at me, Az.”

  Az’s head bobbed, almost as if he were drunk. “Get away,” Az whispered. “I can’t make it stop.”

  “No!” She grabbed his hand and held their entwined fingers up in front of his face even though his eyes were still shut tight. “This is me and you together. And I am not letting you go.” Her other hand grabbed his wrist.

  Jarrod shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, not sure whether he should leave, whether she wanted him to hear her saying these things.

  The trembling stopped. On the floor, Az hitched a shallow breath. The pause spanned too long before he drew another. Something was wrong.

  Jarrod launched forward and yanked on Eden’s shoulder. “Back up.” He tightened his grip. “Eden, back up now.”

  She kept her hand in Az’s. “I’m not leaving him,” Eden said.

  Jarrod stayed next to her, ready to make a move if Az tried anything.

  “Can you hear me?” she whispered. Az stayed silent and still. She let go of his wrist, touched his cheek. He tensed and leaned into her palm. She turned to Jarrod. “I think he’s—”

  A strange guttural chittering came from Az. And then his voice, eerie and mechanical, startled the both of them. “So many sins,” Az said.

  “Az?” Jarrod’s head cocked to the side.

  His eyes snapped open. They weren’t covered in the black oily sheen Jarrod had expected. Instead, the colored center of his eye was gone. The whole thing had gone white.

  Eden dropped Az’s hand, scrambling away.

  Jarrod sucked in a sharp breath. “That can’t be good.”

  “Petulant,” Az keened. His smile wasn’t natural. It invaded his face, ripping its way onto his lips. He turned his head and the dead white eyes seemed to train on Eden. “She’s a mortal flaw, a wicked taint upon your glory.” The smile stretched wider. “The penance is served. Choose. Rise.” He nodded twice and shuddered. “Azazel, you are wanted,” he screeched. Then the frightened words belonged to Az again. “I’ll never go back.” He ground clenched teeth. He slammed a hand against the ground, his fingers tightening into claws even as his face relaxed.

  Az sucked in a sudden lungful of air as if resurfacing, and then collapsed to the floor.

  Jarrod put himself between Eden and Az before she could move. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

  Az raised his head, his face pale, eyes their normal blue. They found Eden. She crawled forward as Jarrod moved aside.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for his hand. He latched on like it was a lifeline.

  “You sure you’re cool now?” Jarrod asked. “What the hell just happened? Your eyes were completely white.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Az murmured as he sat up. He looked at Jarrod. “Not unless the Bound were…” He trailed off. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight. My head’s killing me.”

  Eden shifted closer to him, almost on his lap, as if he’d disappear at any second, studying his face, his eyes, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

  “You remember what you were saying?” Jarrod asked, not willing to let him get them off topic. Something was going on. “That was Upstairs stuff coming out of your mouth, man.”

  Az shook his head. “I don’t know what it was. We saw Michael. He was looking for Gabe.”

  “Who the hell is Michael?” Jarrod asked. “And Eden said you were bad earlier? What happened?”

  Az moved gingerly at first, got his legs underneath him and stood. “I’m fine now. Can we let it go?”

  Jarrod opened his mouth, but it was Eden who spoke.

  “No.” She reached out and let him help her up. “These are things we need to know. Who’s Michael?”

  “He’s…” He shrugged his shoulders as if unable to explain. “He’s Gabe’s. They used to be together. For so long. But then Michael led the charges against me, got me kicked out Upstairs. He wanted Gabriel to turn his back on me, to shun me. Gabe refused. Michael told me I would only drag Gabe down with me.” Az’s brow pinched. “I guess I did,” he mumbled.

  An awkward silence filled the room. Then, Eden broke it.

  “The things he was saying at the tree, though, he was trying to get you to Fall wasn’t he?” She looked to Jarrod as if for backup before she went on. “And here, it sounded like you were possessed. Can the Bound do that?”

  “No,” Az said, instantly.

  “You sure about that?” Jarrod asked. “‘Azazel, you are wanted’ sounds pretty clear-cut.”

  “Right, so at the tree he wanted me to Fall and here he wanted me Bound again?” Az shook his head. “I have to decide to go home. I have to want it. The Bound don’t fight for anyone. Ever. I would have to choose to go Upstairs for them to not see me as Fallen.”

  He swayed on his feet and Eden took his elbow. “The Bound didn’t fight for me and I got thrown out for love. Without the wings, and with…” He paused and glanced at Eden, his expression clouded. “With what he did, Gabe’s not getting a second chance.”

  Eden helped Az to the doorway of her room. Jarrod followed.

  “This isn’t about Gabe,” Jarrod insisted. “This is about you and what happened and the crazy shit you were saying about Upstairs after seeing the Bound!”

  Eden’s hand tensed on Az’s waist. “Jarrod, let it go. I’m sure it was a weird coincidence,” she said.

  Jarrod opened his mouth to protest until Eden glanced back at him over her shoulder. The look they shared was the same.

  She wasn’t buying Az’s flimsy story either.

  Chapter 9

  Eden lay in her bed, propped against the headboard, listening. She’d left the door to her bedroom open a crack. Jarrod had shut down the laptop and headed to bed half an hour ago. Az had tumbled onto the couch shortly after. Now, everything was silent.

  But are they sleeping? She tucked her phone under the covers to hide the light and checked the time. After midnight. Normally, the apartment would still be active, but with Jarrod’s new job and the stress of everything Az had gone throu
gh, both the guys were out. She rubbed her neck, refusing to acknowledge how much she longed to lay back and give in to her own exhaustion.

  She slid quietly out of bed, fully clothed under the blanket. The guys could rest tonight. She couldn’t afford to take the night off.

  Eden slipped on her coat, grabbed her shoes. Before she left, she dropped a pre-written note to her bed. If Az came into her room and found her gone, at least he would know she was okay.

  She took a deep breath and held it as she crossed the living room, intent on the soft sounds of Az’s breaths. They stayed deep and even. She made it to the front door, turned the knob slowly, and wriggled through into the hall.

  Scrolling down her contacts list, she yanked on her shoes.

  “You’re late,” Madeline said as the call connected.

  “Only a few minutes. You’re here?” Eden kept her voice a whisper. Sound carried in the hall, but she knew she was being paranoid. She opened the security door and hung up when she saw her.

  Madeline lowered the phone she held. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  Eden’s skirt rode high on her thighs, the leggings she wore underneath razor ripped and shredded. Under her open coat, her shirt skimmed across the top of her breasts, leaving damn little to the imagination. She sighed at Madeline’s outfit with disdain. The straight-laced fashion sense bugged her on the best day. Tonight, it set her teeth grinding. She eyed the pastel baby blue top Madeline wore.

  “Gabe’s Fallen. He’s most likely in some back alley. Under a bridge. Squatting.” Eden started walking down the sidewalk, Madeline beside her. Already she regretted calling, but she didn’t dare go searching alone. The angels weren’t the only ones Eden would need to worry about tonight. “The places we look aren’t safe. And the people we find there don’t take kindly to innocent looking young women in clean jeans and sweater sets.”