Page 17 of Uncontrolled

“He okay?” Talia asks in a low voice. If she’s concerned about me, I must appear as thrown as I feel.

“He’s fine,” Allie says quietly, though she grips my arm with her other hand as if to lend me extra strength. I peek at the girl beside me, alive and well. She points to the picture on the wall. “That’s Corbin, the man who shot me.”

She says it so matter-of-factly. I angle to take her in, find her already watching me, her expression dark with concern and a hell of a lot of memories neither of us seem up to rifling through right now. Allie rises onto her tiptoes and knocks her forehead softly against mine. I close my eyes for a beat before I take a cleansing breath and turn back to Talia. She’s drawing a circle around Corbin with a red marker. I watch as she slashes a line through the center, his name now written under the photo in tiny block letters.

“These are hunters?” I guess as I take in the others.

She waggles the hand not holding the coffee cup. “Some I’m sure. The rest, I’m sitting at about ninety percent. Most of this is stuff I cribbed from posts exchanged on the local board where the conspiracy theory freaks trade info. I started there, mined for details, and then cross-referenced mutual friends. Overlap. Figured out who interacted most and tried to reverse image search. I haven’t gotten as far as I wanted,” she admits.

I do a quick count. At least twelve hunters. I don’t know why I always assumed it was a couple persistent assholes instead of a club.

“Sarah didn’t seem interested in moving against them unless they overstepped,” Talia says. “Once Corbin killed Jason Jourdain, it was game on for the rest.”

The owner of the cabin wasn’t the first resurrectionist murdered here in Fissure’s Whipp. That was Brandon. He’d been new in town, secretive and protective of himself, and though we’d shared a boxcar, he never told me anything about being a resurrectionist. I thought it would only take more time, but Jamison grew tired of waiting.

Even in death, Brandon’s barely a blip. Unremembered. Unmourned. I wonder if that’s how my own death will be. A violently discarded life.

“We can start being proactive like they do out west,” Talia says to Allie. “We can do whatever we want now that you’re in charge of the cluster.”

Surprised, I rotate toward the two of them. “You said you weren’t resurrecting anymore.”

Allie opens her mouth to answer before she hesitates. “I—”

“Wait,” I say. “Yesterday you told me you needed out and now you’re taking over?” It’s not that I’m angry. I’m not about to tell her what to do. It’s just that she seemed so certain. I don’t know what changed.

“Stay out of it,” Talia snarls in my direction. “This is none of your business.”

I hold up my palms in surrender. Allie can fight her own battles.

“I never said I was taking over,” Allie breaks in, apologetic, though I’m not sure whether she’s answering me or Talia. Talia ignores her.

“Sarah wasn’t actively on the offensive,” Talia goes on. “But that’s the best move now.” She pauses. “You know, for you. I mean, it’s what I would do if I were you.” The silence grows awkward as Talia studies the printed pictures. “I’ll help you. So far, from what I’ve seen, you can’t handle this on your own.”

My annoyed sigh earns me an exasperated chuff from Talia. “What now?” she asks.

“Never tell Allie she can’t do something.”

“Thanks,” Allie says, sounding genuinely appreciative.

“It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” I say.

Her cautious smile fades. She crosses her arms over her chest as Talia hones in on our exchange, suddenly interested. “How was I supposed to take it?” Allie asks.

“All I’m saying,” I start, “is the easiest way to guarantee you’ll do something is if someone says you can’t. You’re a little predictable that way.” I wince to dull the edge on the blow.

To my utter shock, Talia sniffs a laugh that comes across as agreement. “What!” she says when Allie goes rigid. “He’s got a valid point. The last thing any of us needs is you charging in guns blazing.”

Allie’s nostrils flare, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “You said I should be on the offensive.”

“Not without a plan,” Talia clarifies. “And not on your own. You have me.”

I fight the urge to mention I’m here, too.

Allie bites the inside of her cheek as if stalling for time. Talia sips her coffee. I keep my mouth shut for almost ten seconds before I can’t help myself. “Plus, it’s not like you can go in for a melee attack and randomly murder them. You said yourself you’re not even sure they’re all hunters.”

The mug in Talia’s hand stills. “I have pictures of most of them with Corbin. Group shots. He literally killed Allie. And Jason Jourdain before her. Sarah before him.”

“Selfies together? Isn’t that pushing ‘guilty by association’ a bit far?”

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