Vial Things (A Resurrectionist Novel Book 1) by Leah Clifford Page A

first. It’s what he’ll tell me. Wouldn’t he panic though? Finding a body? He seems calm. Normal.
    Allie looks at me expectantly.
    I can lure her into the house. I can wait until we’re inside and turn on her. Jamison can force her to tell us how the blood works, if there’s some way we can be like her. He’ll handle it if I ask him to. I’ll never have to see her again.
    Her hand brushes mine and I force myself to meet her blue eyes. Take them in because it could be the last time.
    I’m not ready. Not until I’m sure Jamison didn’t have anything to do with Sarah’s death. Allie told me bringing me back wouldn’t change me. Maybe Sarah told him the same. As long as we can get out of here without Jamison seeing us, her pride will be in the clear and he’ll be alive. If she makes it into the house, my cover will be blown pulling her off my friend. I’ll get her out of this mess and we’ll be even for her bringing me back from the dead.
    She’s watching, waiting. I do the only thing I can. I lie. Holding up my hand, I splay my fingers and fold down just the thumb.
    Four? she mouths. Her eyes flit to the window and then to me. Her teeth bite down on her lip. She’s wavering.
    I give my head a subtle shake. We can’t take four of them. The shattered look on her face proves we both know it. I take her hand, sure she’ll make a break for the woods. Instead, the predatory glare returns.
    “We go for their car,” she says, half whispering, half mouthing the words. Damn it, the girl won’t give up.
    She creeps through the weeds alongside the house and then darts around the corner. Her words come rushed as she bounces on the pads of her feet. “No one on the porch. Ready?”
    “Allie, we need to get out of here! Whatever you’re thinking—”
    I grab for her wrist but she shakes my hold and breaks for the rusty Cutlass. Okay. We get the car and go , I think. There’s a way out of this. My brain sticks on the car. It’s not his. Where’d Jamison get the money for a new car? Every month or so he searches me out at the Boxcars and tosses me a thin roll of ones with a handful of fives and maybe a ten wrapped around the outside. He’s waited tables at a Denny’s for a few years now. I teased him once about how he must be rolling in the cash, but he didn’t crack a smile. I give you everything that doesn’t go to rent , he said and I never brought it up again. I kept accepting the money because not accepting was worse.
    I speed past Allie, going for the driver’s side. “No keys,” I hiss as she drops into a slide on the gravel. I hear a dull thunk. Air squeals as she scuttles back and hits the rear tire with her knife.
    “Not after the keys!” she calls softly. “Now run!” She jumps up, grabs my hand as she comes around the trunk and yanks me through the yard toward the cover of the tall grass growing at the tree line. Orange sunset light floods through the trees. The dappled patterns camouflage us as we flop down.
    “We can’t stay.” I ease myself up, not quite onto my knees and tug her shoulder. I can’t catch my breath but it doesn’t matter. We’ve got to get out of here. “Come on.”
    Her eyes don’t stray from the house. “I want to see them.”
    “And you couldn’t have waited for them to come out?” I say, exasperated. “Now they’re stuck here.” Not to mention, if she sees that Jamison’s alone, as I suspect he is, she’s going to go back into attack mode.
    “And they’ll have a lot of explaining to do,” she says. She’s got her phone. She ignores my confusion as she dials three numbers. “Yes, I need the police immediately. I heard shots fired at my neighbor’s house.”
    Shit.
    She rattles off the address, not giving the operator time to ask questions. “There’s a strange car in the driveway. Rusted gold Cutlass. She’s home alone, please hurry,” she says and then hangs up.
    “You’re so god damned stupid,” I blurt.
    “How so?”
    “Well, for one,