Free Touch by Michelle Sagara

her. He practically shouldered
     Emma out of the way. Allison caught only a glimpse of Emma’s expression before Chase’s
     shoulder covered her face.
    “It wasn’t Emma’s fault,” she said, between clenched teeth.
    He slid an arm beneath hers and lifted her to her feet. “I didn’t say it was.”
    “Chase—”
    “Not here,” he told her. “Not now.”
    She would have argued—she almost did—but she realized that part of the trembling she
     felt wasn’t her own. The fact that Chase, spattered in blood, was shaking, silenced
     her.
    * * *
    “Emma?”
    Emma smiled wanly. “I’m fine.”
    Eric’s brows rose. “I haven’t known you long,” he finally said. “But ‘fine’ in Hall
     parlance doesn’t mean much.”
    “No?”
    “No. You’re just closing the door in the face of external concern.”
    She grimaced. “I’m
fine
, Eric. Allison was the one—” She exhaled. She couldn’t see her best friend; Chase’s
     back was in the way. Pointedly in the way.
    “I’m okay,” Allison said. Her voice was shaky. No surprise, there. The Necromancers
     hadn’t tried to kill Emma. Just Allison. Because Allison had been stupid enough to
     join Emma while she walked her dog.
    Her dog bounded toward her, and she felt a surge of both guilt and gratitude. She
     knelt and let his wet nose leave tracks across her face. People were often put off
     food by danger; Petal proved that in some ways, he was all dog. She offered him a
     Milk-Bone, and he ate it.
    “Eric’s worried about you,” Nathan said. Emma startled, which was embarrassing. She
     ran her hands through her hair and then turned toward Nathan. He didn’t
look
different.
    “He’s like that,” Emma replied. “Chase—the redhead with the broad shoulders—doesn’t
     care if I die.”
    “I wouldn’t bet on it. He was worried about Ally, though.”
    “It’s why I can’t hate him,” Emma said, speaking quietly so Allison wouldn’t hear
     her. “He’s attractive, he’s confident, he’s—I don’t know. A guy. But he does like
     her. He didn’t even notice Amy—and I can’t think of another living male who hasn’t.”
    Nathan smiled. “It’s hard not to notice Amy. If most women are bullets, Amy’s a nuclear
     bomb—overkill on all levels.”
    Emma didn’t even feel a twinge of jealousy; she would have, once. Eric glanced at
     Nathan.
    “Oh, I’m sorry.” She was. She’d forgotten that Eric could see the dead. Eric, who
     wasn’t a Necromancer, who wasn’t suspicious, and who Chase had not come to Toronto
     to kill. “Eric, this is Nathan. Nathan, this is Eric.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” Eric said. He didn’t hold out his hand.
    Neither did Nathan; they stood sizing each other up in an almost painfully obvious
     way. Emma cleared her throat. “We were going to leave?”
    Eric nodded. “The old man’s coming to clean up. But you’re not going home yet.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “Our place.”
    * * *
    Chase was pissed off. Emma wasn’t in the best of moods herself, but she wasn’t angry
     with Chase; he, however, was clearly annoyed with her. He inserted himself firmly
     between Emma and Allison and made clear by the direction his shoulder was turned—toward
     Emma—that that was where he was staying, period. Ally didn’t notice; Chase had his
arm around her shoulder
and she wasn’t saying anything. She was white as a sheet.
    Nathan walked on the other side of Allison, glancing at her from time to time. He
     made no attempt to touch her or speak with her—it was pointless—but seemed to take
     comfort from offering her his entirely invisible support.
    Petal stuck like proverbial glue to Emma’s side. He did attempt to eat a Milk-Bone
     through her pocket; she shoved his nose aside—his wet, warm nose—to save her jacket
     from saliva and teeth marks.
    For a group that had survived death by Necromancy, it was pretty grim. The blood really
     didn’t help. Eric’s hands were still red; his shirt,