“Let her go right now!” Jarrod yelled as he motioned for Sullivan to stay back. What the hell’s happening?
Eden stopped fighting at the sound of his voice and took a step toward him. Gabriel released her, relief flooding his face.
Two black tears rolled down Eden’s cheeks. As soon as she was within reach, Jarrod grabbed for her hand and rolled it over. Ashes tumbled from her palms. Shit. A deep bruise circled one of her wrists. He kept his attention on Gabriel, backing Eden slowly toward Sullivan and his room. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.
Gabriel shook his head. “Nothing. You got here in time. She’s not hurt.”
Eden tried to speak, but coughing broke up her words, and Jarrod couldn’t make out what she was saying.
She sucked in with a wet, crackling noise. Her lungs sounded full of cellophane.
“Slow breaths,” he commanded.
Without enough Touch to heal, her body was shutting down. He watched her throat convulse as she tried to swallow. An injury as simple as that bruise on her wrist was enough to tip the scales. “Sullivan, grab a glass of water. Hurry.”
Sullivan ducked into the bathroom, going for the plastic cup they kept on the back of the sink. He heard the water turn on.
Suddenly, Eden’s full weight dropped against him. This was going to get bad. Very bad.
“Hey!” he said. Easing one arm around her waist, he tilted her head back into the crook of the other. “Focus on me.”
Her fingers clawed at her throat, nail beds going pale and then blue. This wasn’t a mere tickle in her throat that water would fix. What Eden needed was a Sider, to take in their Touch, which would mean four flights down to the front stairs, where they tended to gather. She wasn’t going to make it that far.
He thought of the extra Touch Sullivan had passed him when they’d kissed. “I’m passing to you, okay?”
The little air Eden had left cut short. He heard footsteps beside him, could feel Sullivan’s stare. Did she understand? Did she know that he wasn’t getting off on this, felt only worry? Touch transferred from him to Eden with a tingle, and he pulled away.
“Water?” he said, holding an arm out behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sullivan as she slipped the cup into his hand. He held it for Eden, watching as she took desperate gulps.
Suddenly she knocked the cup aside and wheezed in a lungful of air as his Touch healed her lungs enough to stop more ashes from forming. It was a temporary solution, but it would tide her over until he could convince her to head to the stairs. He helped her down to the floor.
“Why isn’t she better?” Gabriel asked, something frantic in his voice. “I didn’t think she’d be so weak. She should have gotten better when she started sending on the Siders again.”
“Because,” Jarrod spat at Gabriel as he stood. “She didn’t start taking them out again. She didn’t want to get you in trouble!” He moved forward, putting himself in front of Eden and Sullivan. Gabriel was a Bound angel, and the Bound were trying to kill them. It didn’t matter if he had been Eden’s friend once. “You should leave,” Jarrod said.
“No,” Eden croaked from the floor. “The Bound—Az. Holding—he’s not—” A cough racked her as she got to her hands and knees. Black flecked the carpet.
Jarrod looked to Gabriel.
“He resisted becoming Bound once he knew I was cleared. But he’s locked up,” he said. “She thinks she’s going to kill enough Siders to strong-arm them into letting him go.”
Jarrod crossed his arms. “Well, if it gets her taking out the Siders again, I’m all for it.”
“If they’re not stupid, they’ll hand him over,” Sullivan added, slinking into the space beside him. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
“It’s not Hell she needs to worry about,” Gabriel said. “The Bound aren’t playing games anymore.”
“So where does that leave you?” Jarrod asked.
When he looked at Jarrod, Gabriel’s irises were ringed in yellow, the rest bright purple. Eden had told him once about each color giving away how an angel felt. All Jarrod could remember was that yellow meant fear. Purple. What does purple mean? he thought.
Gabriel gave a subtle shake of his head, held his hands low, as if he wanted Jarrod to know he wasn’t a threat. “You’ve got to keep her safe. They haven’t figured out how to kill normal Siders yet, only those like Eden and Sullivan. They are close, though, Jarrod.”
Loyalty, Jarrod thought suddenly. Purple means loyalty. On the floor, Eden wiped at lips smeared with charcoal.
“You better?” Gabe asked her.
Jarrod glanced down at Eden. “She’s sick as hell,” he answered for her. But sick didn’t really cover it. If Eden didn’t start taking out the Siders again, she wasn’t going to make it. “Her Touch levels are so low, anything sets her off.”
“Not an issue anymore,” Eden said with a rasp. “Get me downstairs. If the Bound have a problem with it, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Eden?” Gabriel snarled, startling them all. “Kill them? Do you know how to kill an angel? Because every one of us knows how to kill you! It's not going to be a challenge.” For just a moment, Jarrod saw Eden’s anger crack as Gabriel moved methodically closer. “You’ll be so easy to kill. You can’t even fight back. You don’t have the right weapons.”
So there is a weapon that can take out an angel. Jarrod wondered if it was a slip, or something Gabriel meant to say, a clue they could use to defend themselves. Could I kill him if I had to? A quick vision hit him, his hand ripping Gabriel’s head back, a knife digging in, Eden screaming. He shook the image away. He’d do what needed to be done to get them through alive. No matter what.
Sullivan’s hands gripped his shoulder, pulling him back. “Jarrod, look at him.”
Gabriel’s glare hit him full strength, crimson burning.
“Do not threaten me,” he growled. “I don’t want to hurt you.” The veins in his neck stood out, throbbing just under the skin. His arm muscles corded.
“Easy,” Jarrod said. A sheen of sweat broke over his skin as he realized what had set Gabriel off. “It was just a stupid thought.”
Sullivan pushed past him, heading toward Gabriel. She didn’t look back. What the hell is she doing? Jarrod grabbed for her, missed.
“Gabriel, you remember me, right?” Sullivan’s voice was soothing. He jerked his head in a nod. “Sullivan,” she said anyway. “And I think, if you planned on hurting any of us, you would have done it already. Right?”
“I . . .” Gabriel winced. “I can’t answer.”
Eden whispered his name, sounding shaken. Gabriel’s nonanswer explained his agitation, the careful wording he’d used—“I don’t want to hurt you” instead of “I’m not going to hurt you.” Had the Bound sent him? Was he fighting against orders he’d been given?
Sullivan went on. “You’re not going to hurt us in the next five minutes then, right?”
His red irises slowly dulled to amber. He nodded. “Right,” he managed.
With the murder Jarrod had seen in Gabe’s eyes, it was hard to believe.
“Okay,” she said. “So we have a guaranteed five minutes. If you need to say something, now’s the time.” She grabbed Eden’s hand and helped her up. “I’m guessing you didn’t just come to catch up?”
“No,” Gabe said, and he looked at Jarrod, speaking to him alone. “I need your help. I want you to track down the territory leaders. Kristen, Madeline, Erin,”–his eyes flicked to Sullivan–“Vaughn. I know they were the original Siders. There has to be something that links them.”
“Like a patient zero,” Sullivan said.
“What good is that going to do?” Jarrod asked.
Gabe shrugged, at a loss. “You’re in the bodies you had as mortals. You’re not alive, though blood is still pumping. Your hair grows and you heal, which means your cells regenerate. You’re not dead and you’re not alive. It’s almost like without paths you’re just . . . ” He hesitated,
his brow wrinkled in concentration. “Paused.”
Jarrod raised an eyebrow. “So what happens when we get un-paused?”
Gabe didn’t answer. “Do you remember anything strange from your last days as a mortal? Times you would have been on Touch and not known it then?”
“Um,” Jarrod said, hesitating. Memories crept through him from the last month or so of his mortal days. Screaming matches with his foster parents. Taking off in the middle of the night. A trickle of sweat dripped down his neck as Sullivan and Eden shifted to look at him. Sullivan’s hand slid across his shoulder, easing down his arm until she could lock their fingers together.
He bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to answer. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I mean, the state came and took me away from my mom’s. The place they put me was worse, so after a few months I bolted. I was afraid the cops would find me and take me back.” He faltered, embarrassed and unsure of whether to go on. “I did things. Stole. I had to survive. I never hurt anyone,” he added, vehemently. “I’d never done anything like that before. I was crashing with guys I didn’t know well. There could have been a Sider in there, I guess. We were all messed up a lot of the time.” He couldn’t be certain. “It might have been Touch.”
Gabe’s gaze was still on him. “So none of the Siders you know of now were there? None of the territory leaders? Kristen, Madeline, Vaughn?” Gabe asked. “Think hard.”
Kristen and Madeline wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes around the group he’d taken up with those last few weeks. Vaughn would have stuck out. Jarrod shook his head. “No, I would have remembered.”
“How long were you with these guys?”
“Little over a month?” Jarrod guessed.
“Eden? What about you? Times you could have been on Touch,” Gabriel asked, though his eyes never left Jarrod. Why’s he looking at me like that? Jarrod wondered.
“Before I met you and Az?” she stammered, and Jarrod knew she felt the same strange disconnect as him. Their mortal days were gone. Forgotten.
Eden coughed weakly. “The first month or so of summer, there were a bunch of parties. I went to all of them. I didn’t really know everyone there, but it was the same crowd. Then I stopped getting invited. My friends stopped calling.” Her last words were almost inaudible before she rallied. “They were forgetting about me, because I was losing my path, weren’t they?”
Gabriel seemed to ignore her distress. “Do you remember seeing any Siders?”
Jarrod shot a glance her way to catch her shaking her head. “No,” he answered for her.
Gabe’s agitation worsened, the angel’s irises darkening to rust-colored rings. “Sullivan became a Sider because Vaughn’s group passed her too much Touch and her path got eroded. I think you were all exposed that way.” His voice lowered to a mumble of concentration. “A month of parties, a month for Jarrod. And then death. But Sullivan was with Vaughn much longer.”
“No!” Sullivan piped up, and then stepped back against Jarrod. “I mean, I was with him for six months, but he kept me alive. He kept me from killing myself.”
Gabe blinked quickly. “The Siders started in New York, but someone was spreading enough Touch in New Jersey that Eden was exposed to it a significant amount.” He stepped back toward the door like an animal afraid to be caged. No one made an attempt to stop him. He sucked in hard, clenching his hands. “Question Madeline, Kristen, Vaughn . . . Erin if you can find her. If you can trace it back—”
“No,” Jarrod cut in before Gabe could go on. He didn’t bother to hide his anger. “We’re staying here. Inside. We can’t go wandering around with your kind out there. Look at Eden,” he said, tipping his chin toward where she leaned against the wall, swaying a bit.
“I can’t,” Gabe whispered. “Jarrod, please. If you can find out how the Siders started, maybe I can find a way to fix things.”
Jarrod tensed when Gabriel dug into a pocket, but rather than a weapon, the angel pulled out a folded piece of paper. “The Bound are coming. Some are already here, searching for Siders, trying to figure out how to kill them. When they ask me where you are . . .” Jarrod heard the heartbreak in Gabriel’s voice. “Please don’t be here.”
“Can’t they just materialize anywhere we go?” Jarrod said.
“Not if they don’t know where that is. They won’t be able to appear inside this apartment because they haven’t been in here, but your security door isn’t exactly going to hold them out.” As he palmed the paper to Jarrod, Gabe pulled him close. “I’ve already been inside,” he whispered in his ear, too low for the girls to hear. “Get out. Now.”
Then, as if to prove his point, Gabriel simply disappeared. Jarrod still held the note. A moment passed in silence before Sullivan slid the useless dead bolt.
“What’d he say, Jarrod?” Eden said. Her voice cracked, weak, as she spoke.
Jarrod slid the note through his fingers. The creases were damp and deep, as if Gabe had been worrying it in his pocket for hours. Slowly, he unfolded it.
In nearly illegible scrawl, was a single sentence.
Do not leave Eden alone with me.
Chapter 3
Once, Eden had asked Az what Upstairs was like. He’d told her it was a figment of the imagination, filled in with the fantastical thoughts of those mortals whose paths led Upstairs. The Bound themselves didn’t dream, incapable of contributing to the beauty around them.
You’re not one of them, he reminded himself. Still, despite his efforts, everything around him—the walls, the bed, the locked door—was white as blank canvas.
Not for long.
Az pushed all his energy into remembering the exact shade of Eden’s eyes, deep cerulean like the under-curl of waves. Imagined that same color washing across the pillowcases, dripping onto the white tiled floor, puddling.
You can do this.
“Blue,” he whispered. “Turn blue.” Gripping the sheets in his fists, he prayed for even a single thread to change. If he could imagine the color into reality, he could create a key, envision a portal, create an escape. He could find a way back to her. So far, his efforts had yielded only a headache. His eyes burned, watered. Please, Az thought.
Nothing happened.
He pushed off the bed and started pacing the floor again, his shoulders heaving. An angry growl burst out of him, building to a scream. He’d ripped off fingernails clawing at the bars on the window, though they’d healed. He’d spent the first two days attacking anyone who entered the cell, fighting to get past them and out. He never made it.
Every fiber in his body ached for Eden. For the scent of her shampoo when she curled up with him on the couch and the way she pushed her sleeves up when she was frustrated and her eyes, those eyes so blue he wanted to drown in them forever. And yet . . .
Through the bars of his window, he could hear water babbling in a nearby stream. Birds chirping as the warm glow of the sun once again lit the realm. Other souls’ dreams painted the scenery with glorious mountains dotted with columbines. Air free of exhaust. Beauty. It called to parts of him he’d secreted away deep inside, tortured him with its siren song.
He curled his hands around the bars. The thought was there before he could stop it, his heart catching in his throat. Home.
He ripped his hands away, ashamed, and dropped back onto the bed. Don’t give in, he commanded himself. Don’t forget her. You have to get back to Eden.
There was a click as the door unlocked. Az slid back across the bed until his shoulders hit the wall as he recognized the angel entering his room. Raphael.
When he’d been Bound, Az had been one of the few trusted to stay in the mortal realm. Then he’d fallen in love, been spotted with her by Michael, and brought before the council. The angel standing before him now was the one who’d handed down the punishment. Az hadn’t seen him since.
The memory of that day coursed through him, ripping open old wounds. Az remembered the laugh he hadn’t been able to hide when Raphael told hi
m he was to be cast out. He hadn’t cared, would have sacrificed himself a thousand times. His sentence only meant nothing kept him from the girl he loved, the one he’d chosen to give up heaven for anyway. But while he’d been Upstairs in front of the council, the Fallen had made their move. By the time he got back, they’d captured her.
The Fallen, angels he’d once known as friends, had held him back as they’d passed her around, each of them tearing out bits of her skin. Even now, after so much time, the memory of her screams still made his bones ache. When the life had finally drained out of her, they’d tossed her aside like a broken plaything. Under the weight of his new wings, Az had stumbled away, broken with loss. Only Gabriel’s constant vigilance in the years afterward had kept him from Falling.
A wave of fresh resolve filled Az at the memory. He finally met Raphael’s pale eyes. The irises were almost white, barely distinguishable from the rest. Light shimmered across his dark skin, seemed to leak from within, a holy radiance.
“Still not a word?” the Bound angel said, each syllable echoing like a musical note. The corner of Raphael’s mouth turned up. “I’d forgotten how much I admire your tenacity, misguided though it may be at times.”
Az pressed his lips together, straightening. Upstairs, words could be dangerous. Speaking to them was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Plus, his silence irritated them, making it all the more appealing.
“It’s good to see you again, frien—”
Never will I be one of them. Bound or Fallen, he promised himself.
Raphael recoiled. “Oh, your hate is so strong,” he murmured. The cadence of his words altered, a melody of sadness. “Not for us, though. You despise yourself.”
Caught unprepared, Az tightened his jaw. Raphael’s head tilted in concentration.
“You flicker, Azazel. The light is inside you.” He held a hand out as if to trace Az’s cheek. “It demands to flare bright again! Why do you fight?”
Az jerked away. He couldn’t bear the need inside him to be complete. One of them. Whole.
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