Vial Things (The Resurrectionists Book 1)

by Leah Clifford

  “Has she called anyone else in the address book yet?” she asks and a pang of guilt seeps through into the last wisps of my consciousness. There’s no time for rest. I should be warning, helping. “Why don’t you give it to me and I’ll start on that while you two sleep,” Talia says. Thank you, I think. She’ll keep it safe. It’s taken care of. I can let go. Calling the others, warning them, should have been the first thing I did once I got here.

  Talia could lead. She could take over Fissure’s Whipp in my place. Just before I drift off, I hear Talia ask, “So you really like her?” but I’m unconscious before he answers. It’s better that way.

  Ploy

  It’s Allie who wakes me. Adrenaline spikes through me as she bolts upright with a gasp. I listen, sure there will be a clatter, some echo of whatever scared her. In the silence, my blood pumps in a static pulse through my ears. A clock ticks. I try to remember if Talia locked the door. Of course, she did. She must have.

  The curtains are a whisper against the trim, blowing in the breeze of the open window. Was it always open? We’re on the second floor. The ladder Jamison would need to use to climb up definitely would have woken us all. So what woke her?

  The bed springs squeak as Allie moves beside me. I’m on my side, facing her, my arms wrapped around my stomach. I close my eyes, waiting to see what she does. After a moment of hesitation her fingers slide between my shoulder and chin along my neck until they find my pulse. A relieved breath staggers out of her. Instead of pulling away, her hand curls around the back of my neck. I think about throwing an arm over her, but when I don’t, she cuddles closer. Only then do I run my fingers through her still-damp hair. Sometime in the night it’d come loose from the towel. “Everything all right?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says quietly. For a split second our eyes lock, and then hers close. It’s all the invitation I need. My lips move to hers in the darkness.

  They don’t miss.

  I’m done hesitating. Nothing about the way I’m kissing her is delicate. There’s hunger in the way I drag my fingers across the tiny slip of her exposed stomach. I hold her around the waist and roll us until I’m flat on my back, her on top of me. “Allie,” I whisper.

  I barely get her name out before she’s kissing me, the same greed in her lips, in her hands. I’m dizzy with the taste of her mouth, our breaths mingling as we grip each other tight. She breaks away with a gasp. “Tell me now,” she pants. “If you’re going to stop this again, tell me now.”

  Everything in me surges. “We should stop,” I say, but there’s no conviction in it. Her lips find my throat, the pressure disorienting as she makes her way down my collarbone.

  Slowly, she slides her hands over mine, lifts my arms until they’re pinned over my head. “We should,” she whispers. “But we’re not going to, are we?”

  Straddling me, she grinds her hips in a slow circle. I forget the why’s behind the shouldn’ts. She feels so good. “You’re sure?” I say as I sit up and reach for her.

  “We could be dead tomorrow,” she whispers. “Isn’t this how you’d want us to spend our last night together?” Her fingers tighten around the back of my neck and pull me closer before I can answer.

  “You’re not going to die tomorrow,” I say between kisses.

  “No,” she concedes. “I’m probably not.”

  From Talia’s room, a phone suddenly chirps a sharp ringtone. Before I realize what it is, my hand goes to Allie’s back, the instinct to protect her instant. She swivels toward the sound. Talia’s light comes on under the crack of the door.

  I flop onto the mattress. My groan of frustration makes Allie giggle as she struggles off me. “Fuck my entire life,” I mutter as Talia bursts from her room.

  I’ve only known Talia a few hours, but it’s long enough to expect some comment from her at the sight of Allie and I in the obviously compromising position. Instead, her shoulders sag in relief when she sees that we’re awake. Talia’s in her jeans and struggling to pull on her shoe. Her keys dangle from her mouth, gripped in her teeth.

  Allie goes on alert. “What’s wrong?” she demands. “Who was on the phone?”

  The shoe on, Talia snags the keychain. “Look, I know this is messed up. Beckett needs me for a case. His friend,” she says. “Timeframe’s close.”

  Without me having to ask, Allie turns to me. “Beckett’s her cousin,” she says and then goes back to Talia. “Timeframe’s close?” The other girl nods. Allie frowns. “Sarah had a case like that for me. A boy in a pool. I think it was a trap.”

  “Well, this isn’t,” Talia says.

  “You’re going then?”Allie asks.

  “No, I’m...I’m asking your permission.” Talia gives her a blank stare when Allie doesn’t answer. “Without Sarah, my cases go through you right?”

  “Oh.” She swings her legs over the side of the mattress. “Okay,” she says, her voice hesitant. “What’s the case?”

  “You’re seriously gonna make me pitch you?” Talia raises an eyebrow. “Can’t you just say yes? I need to do this one.”

  I’m lost. “What’s that mean, pitch you?” I ask. Talia shoots me a dark look for the delay as Allie stands.

  “There aren’t that many family lines that contain the resurrectionist gene,” Allie says. “We find each other. There are pockets of us in a half dozen states. Each group has one family that serves as a checks and balances system for the rest. And now it’s passed to me.” Allie tugs on her shoes without changing out of the shorts she slept in. “What’s the case?” she asks Talia.

  “It’s a kid. Parents on the scene. Beckett said he wanted me to hurry. He and the parents are the only ones who know.” She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and checks the time. “Listen, can you decide on the way?”

  Allie doesn’t hesitate. “If it’s contained to just the parents it’s a yes.”

  I wonder how her aunt would have done things differently. If there’s some sort of vetting system, Allie doesn’t seem to be using it.

  Talia points at me. “What’re we doing with him?”

  “He comes with us,” Allie says. “He already knows. Let him see what we can do.” A moment passes between them. “That’s my only stipulation.”

  Talia turns to me. Her features harden into a mask of distrust. “Get your ass moving.”

  Thirty seconds later, the three of us are in the car and peeling out of the driveway.

  “Has he been with you on a case before?” Talia asks distractedly. She’s struggling to pinpoint the address her GPS is trying to guide her to on the dark side street. Allie shakes her head. “Brief him. Quickly. No more than he needs.” Talia darts a glance to her in the passenger seat and then adjusts the rearview to see me. “You heard it’s a kid,” she says, “so prepare yourself.”

  I give her a jerky nod. I’m not sure I should be seeing this side of things, and yet curiosity led me to the door, got me in the car. Jamison would want me to go.

  But I don’t want to see a dead kid, even if they’re going to try to save him. That was never the power I was after. I wanted to use it on myself. To heal any wound the world threw my way, sell my blood to the highest bidder and ride their money into a better life. Even if Allie wasn’t lying and I can only use it once on each person, I’d be able to use my veins to fill my bank account.

  Allie spins around, gripping the headrest. It’s not until she looks down at my hands that I feel the pain in my palms, the nails digging into skin. I force a breath and relax my fists. She studies me, her lips pressed into a tight white line. She’s measuring me. I can see it in her eyes, the worry I won’t pass this test, how much it means to her that I do. Because cases and bodies and death, this is her life. If I can’t handle it, we have no chance together. I need to be able to handle this.

  “First rule,” Allie says. “You stay calm. We’re going to be dealing with hysterical parents.” Talia hadn’t had any details except a child was involved and the parents didn’t know how long ago th
e kid had stopped breathing. She’d said they’d been ‘frantic.’ I must look nervous because Allie softens her tone. “You’re going to see blood and needles. You’ve already done fine with those, right?” She tries a small smile as if hoping I’ll buy it.

  “Right,” I say. I wipe my palms on the jeans I’d stumbled into on our way out the door.

  “With everything going on, we can’t be sure this isn’t a trap—” Allie starts, but Talia cuts her off.

  “You didn’t hear them in the background.” She’s leaning forward in her seat, her eyes squinted as she creeps down the road. “Glove box, though,” she says. “Just in case.”

  Allie pops it open and I lean against the back of her seat to see. Inside are a set of sheathed knives and a small pistol. She bypasses the gun for the blades and hesitates before she hands one to me. “Hide that on you.” She’s so calm. How can she be so calm when she seems decently sure we’re walking into an ambush? Randomly, the thought occurs to me that if we are being ambushed, it’ll be Jamison. “I’m going to be helping Talia,” Allie goes on. “Your only job in this is to watch our backs. That gut of yours has saved my ass. Use it. Otherwise, stay out of the way unless we ask.” We pull into the driveway and she lowers her voice as she meets my eyes. “You can do this. I can trust you, right?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t—”

  “Ploy,” Talia says. “There’s a backpack on the floor behind me. Grab it, will you?”

  We’re not even out of the car before a slim man bursts out of the house. “Are you Talia?” he blurts at Allie. She shakes her head and is instantly dismissed. He doesn’t even look at me. “We were sleeping. My wife got up to go to the bathroom.” He grabs Talia by the arm, and drags her toward the house. The panicked look she casts over her shoulder skips Allie and lands on me.

  I speed up and wedge myself between the father and Talia, already speaking, my tone calmer than I would have guessed I’d be able to fake, the backpack slung over my shoulder. “Tell me about your kid,” I say as Talia manages to break away. “Is it a boy or a girl? What’s your name, man?”

  “Steve,” he answers. “She’s a girl. Caroline. We weren’t supposed to be able to have kids. She’s our miracle.” His hand quakes as he opens the door. “You have to help her,” he says, voice cracking. “I’ll pay anything. I swear. Whatever you want, I’ll get it.”

  From what I’ve gathered from Allie, there seem to be all sorts of factors that go into resurrecting someone. “She’ll do what she can,” I tell Steve and follow him inside.

  The house is disarmingly quiet. As Steve launches up the stairs, Allie touches my shoulder. I hesitate. My hand drops to the sheathed knife tucked into the waistband of my pants near my spine. Jamison’s not visible, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. He sent someone I didn’t know to hold us up at the cabin. I wonder if this is more of the same.

  Steve slows when he sees we’re not coming. “It’s this way!” he says as if we’ve somehow missed the cues.

  “Where’s Beckett?” Talia asks, her foot stalled on the carpeted stair. The place smells too new, like fresh paint and sawdust.

  A head ducks around the corner at the top of the banister. “I’m here!” Beckett says from above. “Cobalt!”

  “Dandelion!” Talia calls instantly.

  Perplexed, I turn to Allie as Talia heads up the stairs. “It’s a code,” she says. “Flowers and colors. If Beckett hadn’t said his color, she would have known there was a problem. They’ve been doing it since they were little. She taught me, too.”

  Talia makes it to the landing, my eyes just catching her as she rounds the corner. Damn, I think appreciatively. The idea’s simplicity is what makes it so smart. My respect for her notches up a bit, not that it was low.

  “I thought she was adopted? How does he—”

  Allie takes my hand as we pound up behind them, her voice low. “Friend of her real parents. We’d never let a resurrectionist baby out of our sight.”

  “Too risky?” I assume, but Allie lets out a bitter scoff.

  “Yeah, financially. You’ve got no clue what one of us is worth, how our births are celebrated like some sort of windfall,” she says as we reach the top of the stairs. The anger in her tone surprises me, but I don’t have time to ask about it.

  “Hey,” Beckett says by way of greeting, tilting his head in my direction, his dreads bouncing. I nod back. He gives Allie a quick one armed hug, his eyes on me as he whispers something discretely in her ear.

  “Complicated,” is the only word I catch from her answer.

  We’re rushed down the hall to a door with a felt duck on it. I’m prepared for chaos, screaming, but when we enter, there’s a lady not more than five years older than me sitting in a rocking chair. She hums softly to a bundle in her arms. I glance around the room, take in the crib, the changing table. When they said kid, I’d been thinking a ten-year-old.

  Talia swears in a hushed tone. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

  The mother’s face tightens into a smile. Light reflects off the tears dampening her under eyes. “Hi!” she says brightly. “This is Caroline! She’s so quiet.” She coos at the baby. “She’s not normally so quiet, are you little girl?”

  Allie’s whispered, “Oh my God” is almost too low to hear.

  “Beckett,” Talia says, an annoyance to her tone that doesn’t go unmissed by anyone except the clearly unstable mother. “Can I see you outside please?”

  I stick to Allie’s side as she follows the two of them. There’s no way I’m getting left in that room. I close the door behind me.

  Talia’s already got her finger in Beckett’s face. “You know I don’t work on babies!” He shoots her an apologetic look and opens his mouth but before he gets a word in edgewise she lashes into him. “Becks, you said they didn’t even know how long she’s been down. There could be complications.”

  “Then aren’t you hurting her chances with this speech?” He backpedals and licks his lips when Talia balks. “Whatever happens is better than having her in the ground.”

  She crosses her arms. “You told me it was a kid.”

  “And that’s on me, not them,” he says and then sighs. “Look. They’re good parents. They worked hard to have that baby and the doc told them it wasn’t gonna happen again. Even if they could have another, they’d love her the same if something ends up being wrong. That baby’s everything to them. Please.” He waits while she presses her lips together. “Try.”

  Talia holds up a finger. “Once,” she says. “This one time and never again. And I will never forgive you if that kid is scrambled. Go tell them it’s a possibility. You give them full disclosure.” As he slips into the room, she paces the hall. “Unbelievable,” she murmurs.

  “Will it really mess her up?” I ask. I’m trying to picture the needle I’d used on Allie going into a baby. The idea alone squicks me out.

  Talia shrugs, biting her thumbnail. “I’ve heard too many horror stories. Ones that young, sometimes they stroke. No one knows why. Some just don’t handle the blood.”

  “But she could make it,” Allie says. It’s partly a question. “Sarah never sent me to work on anyone younger than twelve, and even then only as a training exercise.”

  “Yeah, she could be fine,” Talia says. “The smaller they are, the quicker they tend to bounce back if they do. If her parents want to go through with it.” We turn slowly, our eyes on the closed door. When it opens, it’s not Beckett, but Steve. His expression is solemn.

  “We understand the risks,” he says. “Kaitlyn and I want you to try.” He hesitates and then pulls a thick envelope from his pocket. “I don’t really know how to do this,” he says as he hands it to her. His eyes flit between the three of us. “That’s everything I had in the safe. The rest I’ll transfer to the account you gave Beckett on Monday.”

  Holy shit.

  They charge.

  Suddenly, the old man’s at the cabin come back to me. What�
�d it cost the poor boy, Althea? Doesn’t look like he’s got much to pay the debt he owes you now. And Allie a few minutes ago. You’ve got no clue what one of us is worth, how our births are celebrated like some sort of windfall.

  “Talia,” Allie hisses. “Give it back.”

  Talia straightens and for a second I think she will until she turns to me, grabbing for the zipper on the backpack I’m carrying and shoving the envelope in. She shoots Allie a look as if daring her to stop her. When she doesn’t, Talia’s posture shifts to something akin to royalty. “You’ll both be out of the room,” she says to Steve.

  “Whatever you need,” he answers. He trudges into the baby’s room and slowly lifts the wrapped body of his daughter from his wife’s arms. She looks uncertain as he hands the infant to Talia. “Come on,” he whispers as he takes Kaitlyn’s elbow.

  As soon as the door’s closed, Talia sinks gently to her knees. “Ploy,” she says.

  I jump at my name, look to Allie before I step toward Talia.

  “Put the bag down beside me.” I drop it near her. “Get me that patchwork quilt in the crib,” she adds.

  I snag the quilt and spread it in front of her. “Next?” I say. It feels good to be doing something to take my mind off what’s in the bundle she’s holding.

  I’m not sure when the change happened. When Beckett and Allie shifted to the background. I try not to focus on it as I open her pack and lay out the syringe, the gauze she asks for. My eyes catch on the envelope. I can’t even guess how much is in there. It’s bulging at the seams. Only when Talia lays the wrapped baby in the center of the quilt do I falter, shoot a glance toward Allie. The pride in her eyes makes my insides flip flop. I must be doing good.

  And then Talia unbinds the blanket. One doll sized arm flops, lifeless, to the side. The skin is a dull grey.

  I can’t do this. I can’t.

  “Rigor mortis hasn’t set in,” Talia remarks, her tone gone flat.