Page 38 of Uncontrolled

I can’t keep them happy on crumbs of information. A misplaced letter in a name isn’t doing much to foster trust. But there’s not a chance in Hell I’m throwing Allie under the bus.

Instead, it’s Jamison I sacrifice.

“Quinn mentioned we’re both missing friends.” I say it while watching Nico to gauge her reaction.

I’m surprised when she appears genuinely pained. “Corbin is ours. I’ve known him for years. He sided with us on the split.”

“The split?”

“Are you sure about this?” East interrupts.

Nico goes on, ignoring him. “Jamison came blazing in a few months ago thinking his ideas are revolutionary. Immortality, selling their blood for a profit.” She stifles a laugh. “Sorry. Everyone on the message boards knows the magic is limited. Whatever the resurrectionists do only works once.”

Wrong, I think. I want to ask about the boards, but I’m not about to stop her with East on a hair trigger.

Jamison started talking to them months ago? I can’t help the pang of betrayal. He never told me about them until the end.

She watches me. “Your boy doesn’t consider consequences of jacking around immortal beings, not to mention jacking us around.”

“He’s a little stubborn,” I offer.

“You said it, not me. Anyway—” She hesitates for half a beat, hazel eyes flashing to East as if weighing his objections. “There’s a scientist. He’s interested in studying the blood. Just before Jamison found us, this guy made a private offer to buy a resurrectionist,” Nico continues. “A very, very large private offer. The blood has to be fresh. We hadn’t considered just like, taking a whole person.”

A cold sweat breaks over my skin. It takes everything in me not to react. Allie’s biggest fear is someone getting ahold of the blood and learning too much.

“Most of us are more watchers than doers. The five of us here and Corbin ran the odds and determined the money was worth giving it a shot. We planned for weeks. The resurrectionist we targeted was newer here in Fissure’s Whipp, but we’d confirmed his status with our members out in Colorado.”

They’re talking about Brandon. Except he didn’t end up abducted. Jamison gutted him in my boxcar. I latch onto another nugget of information. Our members out in Colorado.

How many of these hunters are there across the States?

“We figured he wouldn’t be missed. Everything was going perfect. The night I made the call, I set things up as if I threw a pool party. We accessed a body and arranged him beside the pool like he’d drowned. East waited upstairs for my signal. When Althea showed instead of Brandon, I wasn’t sure what to do. Corbin organized the buy so when she sent me for blankets, I called to ask if it’d be an issue to swap resurrectionists.” She’s awful cavalier for someone discussing human trafficking. “Jamison overheard, insisted we’d be wasting months of work on his part if we interfered with her. That’s when East told me she spooked and bolted through the back gate.”

They were going to sell Allie.

“Two resurrectionists slipping through our fingers? I assumed I screwed us,” she says, as I struggle to keep my composure. Nico crooks herself onto the desktop and settles, unperturbed by the conversation, clearly amused by her story. “Luckily, Corbin heard a rumor, an old guy not even on our radar. He lived in this cabin way out in the swamps.”

The mystery of what happened to Jason Jourdain solves itself. That’s why there wasn’t a body. The hunters sold him.

I need to call Allie, confess, warn her. Allie, Talia, and the rest of their Fissure’s Whipp cluster are in danger. I have the answer I came for.

Canvasing the cramped room, I map each of the players in here, wagering who could do me the most damage. Zen, I decide. She’ll go for the jugular.

East paces the area behind the desk, the window backlighting him while he rubs a brisk hand over his shaved scalp. Too much energy, I think. He’s waiting. He’s nervous.

I need to go. Now. I play a dozen scenarios, cast them aside, and settle on storming out.

“Why am I here?” I demand.

Nico balks at my sudden attitude change. “Did I say something that—”

East starts a slow saunter, as if to box me between him and his sister. “Cut the shit,” I snarl. I move aside to keep him in view. “Why am I here? You want my permission to sell Allie?”

“Quinn, didn’t you tell him?” she asks in the perfect unsettling mix of genial and confused that gives the impression she’s in total control.

Quinn squirms. “I didn’t know where to start,” he says. “He’s…” He squints at me and then breaks eye contact. “He’s got a temper.”

“You’re scared of him?” East asks, chuckling as he ping-pongs between Quinn and me, clearly finding us both inferior. Nico shushes him like a wave reaching shore, habit more than threat.

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