A Vault of Sins by Sarah Harian Read Free Book Online Page A

up to my sad shack in the woods.
    Valerie shudders. “Really? Some rundown creep-o house? Are you that immune to what happened to us in July?”
    I think about waking up from the dream-Compass Room to the dark trees swaying back and forth. “It’s better than being followed by reporters everywhere I go.”
    “You ever leave?”
    I furrow my eyebrows and shut off the engine. Come to think of it, I haven’t left since I’ve moved in. Picking up Valerie was the first time. I half-avoid the question by saying. “My food’s delivered.”
    “Christ, Ev.”
    “Don’t
Christ
me.” I pull my coat tightly around my shoulders and step out of the car. Our doors slam at the same time. “You’re the one who lives in a shit part of the city and goes to a strip club every night to get drunk.”
    “
Refurbished
strip club. It’s only a bar now.”
    “My ass. They keep the poles up for nostalgia purposes?” I shove my key into the lock and open the door.
    “It was the closest place to the hotel. I could stumble home drunk.” Valerie steps into my shack of a house and drops her bag on top of a red stain on the carpet (wine—got too carried away with painting and drinking at once). She turns around slowly, her eyes resting on the unmade bed, the liquor bottles lining the counter, and then finally the painting of Jace propped up on my easel. She shrugs out of her coat and lets it fall to the floor, kneeling in front of the painting, her face inches away from the canvas.
    I bite my lip and turn to the kitchen when watching her becomes too awkward, like I’m somehow barging in on this intimate moment with Valerie and the real Jace—a reunion. Selecting a bottle of booze, I unscrew the cap and find a clean glass.
    “Her eyes are too far apart, but you obviously have talent. You paint this from memory?” She looks over at me in the kitchen, catching me pouring too much liquid in too big a glass. Her eyes soften. “Ev . . .”
    “Don’t judge me.” I knock back half the glass in one gulp.
    ***
    I sleep for a couple of hours, woken up by a dream where I was trying to save Salem, of all people, from getting his face ripped off by animated Compass Room trees, their branches sharp fingers that kept trying to claw off his skin.
    “What was it this time?” Valerie says. I must have gasped awake. She’s next to me, lying on her back on top of the covers and holding her tablet above her.
    “What?”
    “The dream, what was it this time?”
    I tell her, and she makes a face. “That’s weird.”
    “Not even the weirdest one. Earlier I had a dream about a Mad Hatter tea party where all of us CR candidates were drinking blood out of china cups.”
    “Wow. Mine aren’t that imaginative. I mean they’re scary as hell, but . . .” She trails off, and I roll out of bed.
    “Why are you awake anyway?” I ask from the kitchen as I pour myself a glass of water and take the eggs out of the fridge.
    “Couldn’t sleep. See the news?”
    “What news?”
    Valerie switches the projector mode of her tablet on and points it at the wall, where Jace’s mother appears. I can tell who she is before I even see the name. She’s much paler than Jace, but has the same dimples, and same sweet eyes.
    I open the carton and start cracking eggs. Then I pour a glass of orange juice for myself, and while Val isn’t looking, slip a shot of vodka into it.
    “I think the media will just say that the only reason Neal and Kayla believe us is because they want their daughter to be innocent. Reporters are a bunch of assholes like that.”
    She’s right. The Glaser’s are grieving parents, so their endorsement means very little. It’s good to know we have their support, I guess.
    Valerie turns off the projector and plugs her headphones into her tablet, staring at it almost obsessively. I bring her a plate of eggs and she thanks me, scarfing them down in a matter of seconds. Seeing her eat only encourages me to scrounge through the cabinets to