Page 41 of Uncontrolled

“Talking?” Nico says. “Or talking.” The emphasis on the second talking isn’t a thing any of us can miss.

Color works its way into the small of Zen’s throat and the skin not covered by her tattoo. With her hair pulled back, I can see the gravestones, danse macabre skeletons. They make me wonder if Jamison’s rotting, if he’s been buried, how long before he’s bones.

“It’s none of your damn business,” Zen snarls, her overdone rage cracking me loose of my thoughts. “We’re clearly not talking now, so he’s probably dead. Just like Corbin.”

With that, she storms past Quinn out of the room.

“Holy crap,” Quinn whispers in Zen’s wake.

“You really didn’t notice those two sneaking off together all the time?” Keeley says, sounding amused. “The hickeys?”

Now it’s East’s turn to vent his surprise. “I’ve known Zen going on four years,” he says. “That is not a shell that gets cracked.”

The wording sends a shiver through me. I stare after the girl. Jamison would have broken her to amuse himself. Or could she have gotten to him? Saved him in a way I couldn’t? With a sharp shake of my head, I cast the thought away. No. There was no saving Jamison.

East knocks his chin upward to draw Nico’s focus. His head wobbles in an uncertain gesture. She scrunches her nose as if she’s tasted something sour.

Twin speak? I wonder. It’d be just my luck if they were telepathic. Then again, if they were, I’d be dead by now.

“We’re wasting time,” East says. “What’s he gonna do? Find her diary? I said from the start, we go to the source.” He lowers his voice and leans in toward Nico and Quinn. I only make out a few words, but it’s enough to set me on edge. “—off him. Allie is—”

“No!” I blurt.

Four sets of eyes swivel in my direction.

“I got this,” I insist to Nico alone.

She’s desperate. I’m willing to bet fourteen days of searching with zero results is dulling the luster on her rule. Bringing me in is a roll of the dice. I snag the cash from her hand and jam it into my pocket.

“Write a timeline for me. Details on Corbin, places he went or could be, what he was up to, last contact. You paid me. I’ll show you what I can do.” In my jeans pocket, my fingers skim the bills. How much did she give me if they’re twenties? All fifties? If the center’s thick with hundreds? “Come on,” I whisper, holding my arm out as if to stop the attack I’m sure is coming. “Give me a chance.”

The information Allie needs to protect her cluster is already in my head, and the money she needs to keep herself safe is in my pocket. If I make it out of here alive, she’ll see I can hold my own in her world. She’ll see I’m useful to keep around.

“Who’s the boy?” Keeley says.

“Boy?” I repeat, lost.

“Last night,” she says. She smooths her hair behind her ears again, a nervous tic though she’s smiling. “You and your girlfriend were fighting. Talia came to pick her up. The boy was in the back seat.” There’s genuine curiosity in Keeley’s voice. “Who is he?”

“I didn’t see a boy. You were watching us?” Every time one of them opens their damn mouth, I’m thrown in a new direction. “She’s not my girlfriend,” I add, but already it feels too late.

“They took that boy to the resurrection.” Keeley takes a step closer, head tilting as she studies me. “But they didn’t take you, did they? What makes you think she’ll tell you anything about Corbin or Jamison?”

Shit. I underestimated the tween.

When I sputter over an answer, Keeley frowns. “It’s not like you can tell her you know them, Ploy.” The cadence of her voice bounces along in a melancholy singsong. “She might kill you for asking. Do you think she would?”

Don’t panic, I think. This is some sort of test. “No one’s going to find out I’m hunting the resurrectionists because no one knows but us,” I say. “And Jamison.” I’m screwing up, forgetting I’m supposed to be a friend still clinging to hope.

There’s a pause, calculating in a way no thirteen-year-old should have mastered yet. “Hunting them? Wow.” She sounds disappointed in me, like I’m not getting it at all. “They’re not animals, Ploy.” The kid’s a middle schooler. She shouldn’t be capable of the dead-eyed stare she levels on me. “They’re so much smarter than that, and if Allie catches you? You’ll beg her not to bring you back to life when she’s done with you.”

The silence grows stifling. I wipe my palms on the hips of my jeans. “Jesus! I won’t get caught!”

Her mouth screws into a frown as she considers me. “I saw you kiss her,” she says. “You were fighting and then you kissed her.”

We were watched. Allie never told me she was going on a resurrection, which means they followed last night wherever Talia drove her. Keeley isn’t digging for details though. She’s jealous, I think.

Somehow I whip on an easygoing grin. “Yup,” I say lightly. “She’s a roof over my head, and like Zen said, a meal-ticket. If it takes a kiss to stay on her good side and keep her happy, well…” I trail off, crooking a disarming knuckle under Keeley’s chin. “If Allie stays mad, who’s gonna buy me dinner? You offering?”

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