Vial Things (A Resurrectionist Novel Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

and—”
    “Stay,” I say suddenly, cutting him off. His concern turns to confusion. “That’s what you’re asking, right? If you can?” I grip his wrist. His eyes meet mine, shoot down to the hold I have on him and back up. I swallow hard and unwind my fingers. “You can stay with me,” I say.

Chapter 6
ALLIE
     
    H e doesn’t tell me where he plans on hanging out and I don’t ask. From my month of scheduled run-ins, I know Ploy’s patterns well enough to find him if the need arises.
    I’m not crazy about him sticking to his normal routine, begging change and whatever else his crew gets up to but if Ploy doesn’t know what the organ removal means then he’s not a resurrectionist. Not a target. He’s a million times safer when he’s not around me.
    “You know how to use that?” I ask as he tucks a closed knife into his pocket.
    He snorts. “I don’t carry it around for fun.”
    No , I want to say. Do you know how to block when someone comes at you with their own blade, how to observe your opponent for weaknesses in technique, how to cut where it’ll count? Do you know how to use it, not how to flash it around to scare off a gutter punk after a couple dollars? I have half a mind to show him just how effortlessly I can disarm him and have his own blade at his throat. It’d wipe the patronizing smirk off his face pretty damn quick.
    “Of course you don’t carry it for fun,” I grind out through clenched teeth and a pinched grin. That’s weapon training one oh one: Never carry a weapon unless you intend, and know how, to use it.
    “I’ll be back around dark, cool?” Ploy says as he opens the door. I nod. I only need him here when I’m asleep. Otherwise, he’d probably just get in the way. “Listen…” His fingers brush down the edge of the frame and tap twice against the knob. He clears his throat and looks up at me, his voice lower than it was before. “Thanks for, you know, letting me stay and stuff.”
    I can barely get the corners of my mouth to lift. “No problem,” I say. “See you later.” The probability of someone coming after me at the apartment is slim to nil. He has a much better chance of getting shanked under a bridge or something.
    But he also has a right to know what he’s signing up for.
    The second he closes the door, I twist the deadbolt and slide the chain into place. Even as I move, I’m pulling my phone from my pocket.
    “It’s happening,” I say when Sarah answers. I pace the floor, worrying the hem of my shirt. “Just like it did with my parents.”
    Sarah doesn’t ask what. There’s no need. “Tell me everything.”
    I blast through the story Ploy told me in a single breath.
    A deep sigh echoes through the phone line. I don’t realize until I hear it how much I wanted her to laugh off my concern, tell me I’m wrong, that it’s nothing. “The boy who told you this story,” she says slowly. “He doesn’t have his own place, does he? He stays at the old railway station?”
    My breath catches. “How could you know that?”
    “His friend’s name was Brandon. He came from Colorado some months ago under bad circumstances. He was attacked. Beaten. Because of that, he felt it was safer for him to stay off the grid. I didn’t argue as long as he was reachable.”
    I’m stunned into silence.
    “Allie, the house I sent you to last night? That was supposed to be Brandon’s job. He was the closest geographically only I couldn’t get hold of him. When you told me about the job last night…that the boy had been dead for hours… She wasn’t my friend’s daughter.” When we do a resurrection, we have to work quickly. There’s no time for background checks and vetting. It’s a loose system of knowing someone that knows someone who heard a rumor once about who to call for help.  My God , I think. What would have happened to me if I’d stayed to do the job? “This boy, Brandon’s friend,” she goes on. “Do you trust him? There’s no chance he was