cop continued to shake his head. Cursing, my neighbor stormed back in my direction.
“Hey,” I said, as the guy pulled open the convenience store door. “What’s going on?”
He wiped the sweat from his brow on his T-shirt. “I recognize you. You live upstairs, right?”
“Yeah. They not letting you in?”
“Nope. Don’t even bother asking. Christ, I need to go shower and meet my girlfriend, but they told me not to go anywhere far. They want to ask me questions.” He grabbed a sports drink from the rack.
“But they gave you no idea why?”
“Not a clue. Saw the Gryphons carrying a cooler into one of the apartments on your floor. You tell me—what’s that about? Something’s messed up.”
“Yeah, no doubt.”
I rested against the ice cream freezer and got out my cell. Come on, pick up.
“Bridget Nelson speaking.”
“Bridget, hey. It’s Jess. I’m try—”
“Jess! Hi, where are you?”
My stomach clenched. I despised phones for many reasons, but the biggest one was that I lost my emotion-sucking advantage with them. There was clearly something off about Bridget’s voice. It was almost perky, a kind of forced cheerfulness that no more fit Bridget’s personality than it did mine. “I’m around.”
Downstairs neighbor had already chugged half his drink and was now paying for it.
“I ran into a neighbor and he told me there’s all this commotion going on in our building. Gryphons and cops. What’s up?”
“Why don’t you ask the ones who are there?”
“Because my neighbor said they wouldn’t tell him what was going on. So I’m asking you.”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Jess, you’re on our side, right? You were almost a Gryphon.”
My hand tightened around the phone. She’d better be going somewhere good with this, or I was crossing her off my holiday card list. “Yeah?”
“Then do the right thing and turn yourself in.”
Okay, that was unexpected but definitely not good. “For what?”
“I’m sure you didn’t do anything deliberately wrong, but…”
“But what?” Oh shit. My stomach was clenching so hard it felt like concrete in my abdomen. Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. What kind of insanity was this? Had they finally figured out the identity of the Soul Swapper? Could my creepy note-writer have blabbed, after all?
“We got a tip. I didn’t know it was your apartment until we got there. I would have called you, but—”
I lowered my voice. “Damn it, Bridget. Spit it out. What are you talking about?”
“We got a call about something in a fridge in your bedroom, something that shouldn’t be there.”
I grasped the freezer’s handle for support. “And you found…?”
“You know what we found.”
“Blood.” Blame it on shock, but the word slipped out. I’d thrown Greg’s useless blood in the fridge last night, figuring I’d get rid of it today while my roommates were at work and I could clean out the vial. Flaming dragon shit on toast. Note-writer had blabbed. “Look, I can explain—”
“And the heart, Jess? You can explain why a murdered woman’s heart was in your fridge?”
Now would be a good time for hysterics. “A heart? You’re telling me there was a heart—some human woman’s heart—in my fridge?”
“A heart. Who did it belong to?”
Well, wasn’t that a good question. “How should I know? I don’t even know what one might be doing in my fridge.” I probably shouldn’t have said any of that so loud. I probably also shouldn’t be having this conversation with Bridget. If this were true, the only person I should be talking to was a lawyer. A damn good lawyer.
“We’ll find out soon enough, and we’ll find out if that blood really did belong to one of the men who was murdered on Friday. We already know you left Kilpatrick’s pub with him that night.”
Do not puke in the middle of the convenience store. Do not.
“Make this easy on yourself,” Bridget continued. “Turn yourself in, give us
“Hey,” I said, as the guy pulled open the convenience store door. “What’s going on?”
He wiped the sweat from his brow on his T-shirt. “I recognize you. You live upstairs, right?”
“Yeah. They not letting you in?”
“Nope. Don’t even bother asking. Christ, I need to go shower and meet my girlfriend, but they told me not to go anywhere far. They want to ask me questions.” He grabbed a sports drink from the rack.
“But they gave you no idea why?”
“Not a clue. Saw the Gryphons carrying a cooler into one of the apartments on your floor. You tell me—what’s that about? Something’s messed up.”
“Yeah, no doubt.”
I rested against the ice cream freezer and got out my cell. Come on, pick up.
“Bridget Nelson speaking.”
“Bridget, hey. It’s Jess. I’m try—”
“Jess! Hi, where are you?”
My stomach clenched. I despised phones for many reasons, but the biggest one was that I lost my emotion-sucking advantage with them. There was clearly something off about Bridget’s voice. It was almost perky, a kind of forced cheerfulness that no more fit Bridget’s personality than it did mine. “I’m around.”
Downstairs neighbor had already chugged half his drink and was now paying for it.
“I ran into a neighbor and he told me there’s all this commotion going on in our building. Gryphons and cops. What’s up?”
“Why don’t you ask the ones who are there?”
“Because my neighbor said they wouldn’t tell him what was going on. So I’m asking you.”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Jess, you’re on our side, right? You were almost a Gryphon.”
My hand tightened around the phone. She’d better be going somewhere good with this, or I was crossing her off my holiday card list. “Yeah?”
“Then do the right thing and turn yourself in.”
Okay, that was unexpected but definitely not good. “For what?”
“I’m sure you didn’t do anything deliberately wrong, but…”
“But what?” Oh shit. My stomach was clenching so hard it felt like concrete in my abdomen. Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. What kind of insanity was this? Had they finally figured out the identity of the Soul Swapper? Could my creepy note-writer have blabbed, after all?
“We got a tip. I didn’t know it was your apartment until we got there. I would have called you, but—”
I lowered my voice. “Damn it, Bridget. Spit it out. What are you talking about?”
“We got a call about something in a fridge in your bedroom, something that shouldn’t be there.”
I grasped the freezer’s handle for support. “And you found…?”
“You know what we found.”
“Blood.” Blame it on shock, but the word slipped out. I’d thrown Greg’s useless blood in the fridge last night, figuring I’d get rid of it today while my roommates were at work and I could clean out the vial. Flaming dragon shit on toast. Note-writer had blabbed. “Look, I can explain—”
“And the heart, Jess? You can explain why a murdered woman’s heart was in your fridge?”
Now would be a good time for hysterics. “A heart? You’re telling me there was a heart—some human woman’s heart—in my fridge?”
“A heart. Who did it belong to?”
Well, wasn’t that a good question. “How should I know? I don’t even know what one might be doing in my fridge.” I probably shouldn’t have said any of that so loud. I probably also shouldn’t be having this conversation with Bridget. If this were true, the only person I should be talking to was a lawyer. A damn good lawyer.
“We’ll find out soon enough, and we’ll find out if that blood really did belong to one of the men who was murdered on Friday. We already know you left Kilpatrick’s pub with him that night.”
Do not puke in the middle of the convenience store. Do not.
“Make this easy on yourself,” Bridget continued. “Turn yourself in, give us
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