The Siders Box Set

by Leah Clifford

  Chapter 17

  Gabe winced, though the light in the hallway wasn’t bright. He felt drunk or drugged or both, uncertain whose door he was propped up against until he pulled away and saw the brass letter nailed above him.

  He sighed in relief. His mouth was sour, his head pounding, but the door he rested against was his own. The only problem was him being on the wrong side of it.

  Another blackout.

  “Oh head, you are not happy with me,” he grumbled, staggering to his feet. He leaned against the doorframe and waited for the world to steady. He flexed his hands, rolling his wrists in a circle to check for sore muscles. None. He checked his fingernails. No dried blood. Okay, so you didn’t fight anyone.

  His hand shook as he reached into his coat pocket for his key. When he took it out, a business card tumbled to the floor. As he slid his key into the deadbolt, he looked down.

  HIVE the card read, glossy yellow letters against a black background.

  Come catch a buzz!

  Gabe bent slowly to pick it up, ignoring the pain in his skull. There was a number, an address on Staten Island. The name held no meaning for him. Had he been there last night? Was he supposed to go there? He flipped the card over. A message was scrawled on the back.

  A favor for the angel on everyone’s naughty list. Watch and learn. Hurry. We’re losing them.

  Underneath it, a perfect lipstick print of a pink kiss.

  Dull dread coursed through him. He stared at the card. Someone knew him, had found him and gotten close enough to leave the card with him. Or had he taken it himself? A fierce urge ripped through him. Protective. Az. Losing Az? But the card had said “them”. Who else?

  He closed his eyes, trying to force the memories back. Who had given him the card? The demons…the mortal boy’s death. He’d thrown up on the subway stairs and then—

  Beats. Thumping bass and lights. A voice, female, familiar, yelling into his ear above the music. “Another mortal path to check…forget all about me in the morning, baby.” Snippets of conversation. And then part of his own answer. “—would never forget!” Her laugh, a flash of white teeth, pink lips pulling back in a smile. “You’re not ready yet. Open your mouth.” Bitterness on his tongue. A dissolving pill. “That’ll help you get there,” she whispered. Her lips hit his cheek. “In and out.” Her voice, concerned. “In and out,” he promised.

  His fingers rose to his cheek, the skin there oily with old lipstick. He let out a frustrated yell, slammed his knuckles against the door. “Come on! Remember!” he screamed, gripping the door frame. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Come on.”

  Nothing. The memory was gone again.

  He stormed out of the apartment building, yanking his hood up as he covered the block to the subway entrance. He’d go to this Hive place. Someone had to have seen him last night. A bartender would know something. A bouncer. He’d make them talk.

  Gabe hopped the turnstile and jogged. Wind stirred through the tunnel as the train screeched into the station. The few people on the platform pressed forward. He fought his way to a seat at the back of the car, pulling his hood down over his eyes.

  Someone fell into the seat beside him.

  His eyes flicked over. Shock rolled through him. He fought the urge to look, the need to see her, turned toward the window.

  Her. Kristen. Memories flashed through him. Feelings of friendship rose bile in his throat. He ground his teeth, already feeling himself losing control.

  Could she have given you the card?

  Her gloved hand gripped his arm.

  He jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “My God, it’s true.” She leaned forward, trying to get a look at his face, but he kept his head down. “What have they done to you, Gabriel?”

  One subway stop and he could make a run for it. Before he did something terrible. “That’s not my name.”

  It was true. He wasn’t Gabriel, not anymore. And if she hadn’t known that, Kristen hadn’t been the one to leave him the card. Her voice didn’t match the one in his memory.

  “It was once. It will be again.” She didn’t give up, scooting closer, pinning him tighter against the wall as he shrunk from her. Already he felt the ice inside, shifting, gathering.

  He threw back the hood. “Get off at the next stop.” His hand shot out and he squeezed her wrist hard enough that he felt her bones grinding. Before he could push it away, a smile crossed his lips at the fear in her eyes. “Get up. Get away from me. To the other door.” Soon he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. “Please,” he whispered.

  His gut twisted as she shook her head.

  “I’m not leaving. We’ll find a way to fix this, Gabriel. You helped me for years. Let me help you.”

  He winced. “You shouldn’t have come.” His grip tightened, and she hissed.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  He met her eyes. Let her see the malice in his. “I know.”

  He could almost feel the satisfied pop of capillaries bursting under his fingers. She yanked back, but he didn’t break his hold. Defiance kept the pain from her face. Her eyes had lost their look of fear. How long would it take to break her? A thrill skittered through him.

  “You want to hurt me, fine, but I’m not leaving without you. Talk to me. Tell me what happened, and we’ll figure out how to save you.”

  A memory tickled at the back of his mind. His hands against her temples, the sound of static. He broke eye contact, shaking the image away. “No. Leave me.”

  “They told me you…” She winced, her eyes flicking down to her arm. He didn’t loosen his grip. Kristen glanced around the half full car and lowered her voice to a whisper even he could barely hear above the clacking of the train. “There was an accident, right? And someone was killed?”

  “Accident? Is that what you think? Is that what your mysterious ‘they’ told you?” He laughed, unabashed. “Did ‘they’ tell you who I killed? What I did?”

  She gave her head a pathetic little shake. For the first time she seemed to be realizing he wasn’t the sweet innocent Gabriel she’d known. The one eager to cater to her whims. A pissant. A little flare of rage ignited inside him.

  No. Control.

  He released her arm, held his hands out, marveling over them. “She struggled for her life, even though she should already have been dead. I didn’t even choke her.” He whispered, his hands tightening into fists. “Just held her under until the bubbles stopped. Not a mark on her.”

  Kristen stared at him in silence, sad doe eyes. He wondered what sound they would make when he plucked them from her pretty head. Gabe shuddered. “You need to leave. Now.”

  Her voice barely reached him. “You’re not capable of murdering someone, Gabriel. I know you.”

  “Apparently not so well. I lied to you about it for months and you never had a clue, Kristen. You think I don’t know why you’re really here?” His fingers stiffened, cold. So cold. He had to get rid of her before it was too late. “You still want to let me inside your head?” He ran a finger against her temple. “Do you know how easy it would be to break you?”

  She looked numb. “I’m already broken. You fix me.”

  “Oh, you sweet nothing,” he murmured. “Kristen, I’m begging you. Leave before I do something.”

  “You haven’t yet. You won’t. I trust you.”

  He fought for control, thought he heard her call his name. Their eyes met. The connection took. The ice let loose, rolling through him.

  Her mind spiraled open, coming undone in delicate tendrils. They drifted around him, through him. So many thin lines, knitting and knotting and choking out her sanity. Her gaze was dead, brown eyes unblinking. He had to make sure she didn’t come back, knew there was no saving him.

  He dug deep, not healing, stumbled across what had seemed white patches in the static, ones he couldn’t see into when he was Bound. He’d been hoping for something he could use against her.

  He couldn’t have dreamed of better.


  “I helped you and you were fucking Luke?” He sounded more vicious than he expected, wondered for a brief moment if there was actual feeling behind the words. “You used me to fix yourself and when I wasn’t at your beck and call, you went to the one bastard I tried to keep you safe from.”

  A sob shuddered through her, but no tears fell. “It was a mistake. I ended it a year ago.”

  “Then how did you find me here, Kristen?” He leaned closer and she flinched.

  “I...”

  Do it. Cast her away. Permanently. “I murdered Eden and I wasn’t even Fallen.”

  “What?” she whispered. One word, brimming over with enough pain to keep him stable, give him time to save her.

  “Imagine what I’m capable of now,” he continued. “Get out of my sight, Kristen. If I see you again, I won’t hold back.”

  The train shuddered into the station. Kristen stood, locked eyes with him as she staggered backward, out onto the platform, her head shaking slowly. And then she was gone.

  Gabe doubled over on the seat, sliding against the cold metal wall of the car. Sweat broke across his brow. For a moment he thought he’d get sick from the loss and guilt rolling over him. Not his. No, they had to have been remnants left behind by Kristen.

  The only thing he could do to help her was to send her away. He’d done it. Held his ground. Didn’t hurt her. Pride swelled inside him until he remembered the look in her eyes.

  The pain.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he assured himself. The important thing was that she was okay, holding her own. Still strong.

  Chapter 18

  Sullivan hadn’t said much. They walked fast, covering the ground between her hotel and the apartment in fifteen minutes. He kept wanting to ask her if she was alright, but it seemed sort of ridiculous. She’d almost jumped off a building.

  He glanced at her, trying to think of something to say, and settled for putting his arm around her. For a second she tensed, and he thought she’d shrug it off, but she didn’t. He could feel her shaking, even through his thick coat.

  A two block straight shot, and they’d be at the apartment. He’d been cautious, taken a few extra turns when he’d noticed a guy walking their same way for more than a block, not wanting to ask her what Vaughn looked like and scare her. Definitely not wanting to run into the Bound, but unsure what any of them looked like. The Fallen hadn’t bothered them since the roof, minus the few boxes that had come for Eden.

  No one seemed to have followed them.

  He glanced at Sullivan again, watching her face. He’d seen glints of things in her yesterday, determination and adventurousness that he envied. The Touch had brought them out, but if she didn’t kick the habit, it would also be what killed them off. She’d been so close to going over the edge last night. What if he hadn’t woken up?

  She caught him staring. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, cold enough to break the mood.

  “Like what?”

  She sighed angrily. “I don’t know. Like I’m going to take off on you.”

  He shook his head. “I was thinking about how you were last night. Like how you just decided you wanted to kiss me and went for it.” She tensed but he went on. “So I think if you wanted to take off, you could.” They were getting close to the apartment. He took his arm from her shoulder and pulled out his keys. “I also think if you wanted to quit Touch, you could do that, too.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. Her lips parted, but she closed them a second later so he leaned forward and kissed her quickly.

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  Jarrod noticed the two Siders on the stairs. He led Sullivan past them up to the security door, his key ready.

  “Hey, you,” one of them said. “She’s going to start coming out again right? If we wait?”

  “No.” He kept his voice firm as he slipped his key into the lock. He had Sullivan go through first, wanted her out of their sight. Jarrod closed the door behind them, making sure it latched. He didn’t think anyone knew what apartment they were in but could only imagine what would happen if the Siders started knocking on the door instead of hanging out front.

  “They’re waiting for your roommate?” Sullivan asked, glancing back out the window next to the door. A face pressed against the glass, watching them. Suddenly, Jarrod realized how much he hadn’t told her.

  “For Eden. Yeah.” As they climbed the stairs, he kept his attention on the keys, fiddling with them until he separated the apartment key. “Look,” he said, turning to Sullivan when they reached the door. “Whatever happens in here, keep it together. Play it cool. I promise I’ll tell you everything after, okay?”

  He should have warned her. At least dropped some hints. Oh like what, he thought miserably. Hope you’ve got a thing for necrophilia?

  She leaned against the wall as he put the key into the lock. He didn’t have a chance to open it before the door flew open, yanked away. Eden threw herself at him, squeezing tight enough that his ribs felt like they were cracking again.

  “Jesus Christ, Jarrod. Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. She pulled back, her expression darting from rage to relief. Her eyelids were swollen and pink.

  “You’re not…the Bound…?” She seemed to force herself to take a breath.

  Guilt flooded through him. “Oh God, Eden, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking like that.”

  “You’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine!”

  Her eyes blazed. “Then why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone!” she yelled throwing her hands out. Eden finally noticed Sullivan and fell silent, the last of her words echoing through the stairwell, fading.

  Sullivan had taken a stride away from the door, lowered a foot onto the step below their landing.

  “I’m sorry,” Eden said, her tone even. “I didn’t realize you had a friend with you.”

  She stared, sizing her up, but Sullivan didn’t break.

  “Eden, this is Sullivan. Sullivan, Eden,” he said carefully. “She’s not normally so hostile right off the bat,” he added to Sullivan, hoping for a break in the tension. Neither of them smiled.

  He shifted closer to Sullivan, put his hand on her back. “I brought her to talk to you.”

  From behind her Jarrod heard footsteps crossing the apartment. Az came to the door.

  His eyes skipped across the tense standoff, settled on Sullivan. Jarrod saw a flash of something cross his face, his mouth opening, closing like he thought better of whatever he was about to say. Which was fine with Jarrod. Eden was enough of a challenge.

  “Do we have to do this in the hallway?” Jarrod asked.

  Eden crossed her arms over her chest, leaning on the doorframe. Half a minute passed before she stood aside.

  Jarrod whispered to Eden as he passed. “Mortal. Doesn’t know much about us.”

  Eden nodded, her brow pinched in uncertainty.

  Az dropped onto the couch, his glare menacing. “You ever do anything like that to her again, you and I are going to have issues, understand?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” If Eden had been as upset as he imagined, Az had to watch her that way. Jarrod wondered if he’d struggled with the Fall again.

  Jarrod headed for the kitchen, but Sullivan slowed until Eden caught up, as if she didn’t want Eden at her back.

  The table, tucked into the corner, only had two sides open for sitting. Jarrod tapped a chair and Sullivan dropped onto the seat. He took the other, tipping back and balancing on the legs.

  “She was at Milton’s the other day,” Jarrod started, the pad of his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on his knee. “I pointed her out to you.”

  “I remember,” Eden said.

  “I got off my shift yesterday…” He hesitated.

  Sullivan snapped up. “I waited for him and I stole Touch. He stayed with me last night to make sure I didn’t crash and burn.”

  Jarrod’s shoulders slumped. “Shit.”

  Eden
stopped pacing. “How do you know about Touch?”

  Jarrod tipped forward, the chair legs striking the floor. “They’re selling it. Like a drug. Sullivan was dating the guy who runs Staten Island. Eden,” he said, looking up, meeting her wide eyes. “She’s addicted to Touch.”

  The refrigerator hummed.

  Eden spun suddenly on Sullivan. “What're you after?” she demanded.

  Sullivan shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, that’s convenient.”

  Jarrod scoffed. He’d expected drama but this was getting ridiculous. “Come on, Eden. You’re pissed at me, not her. She needs your help.”

  Eden uncrossed her hands, threw her elbows on the table top. “She’s not one of us. You had no right to bring her here. We’ve played this game before, Jarrod.”

  He stared at her, his head shaking slightly. “It’s not like that,” he promised.

  “It doesn’t look even slightly familiar? Don’t you remember the last damsel in distress you helped out?” Eden leaned forward as her voice raised, seemed to catch herself as she realized how close she was to Jarrod. He froze, didn’t dare inhale. She tipped her head to the side, careful of her breathing but her rage didn’t dissipate.

  “Yeah,” he said, catching her eye, holding it. “Before Libby the last ‘damsel in distress’ I helped out was you, Eden.”

  “Look,” Eden said, turning to Sullivan. “Did Vaughn send you here?”

  Jarrod froze. “How the hell do you know about Vaughn?”

  Eden held her hand up to silence him. He turned to Sullivan, unsure what to do, how to react. Did I do it again? Put us all in danger? Doubt filled him.

  “No, I wasn’t sent here.” Sullivan picked angrily at the edge of the table top. “I heard about you from Vaughn before I took off. I needed Touch. When I figured out Jarrod worked at that coffee shop, he was easier to get to than you.”

  He couldn’t help the hurt sound that escaped him. Sullivan’s head shot up. She held his gaze but said nothing.

  “So that’s it?” Eden said. “You used him for the Touch?”