Black Heart Read Online Free PDF

files. And Philip. For immunity . Why did you need immunity? What did you do?”
    When the Feds dumped a bunch of files onto my lap and told me Philip had promised to name the killer, I didn’t really stop Daneca from looking at them. I knew that was a mistake, even before I realized the files were all of people I’d transformed, a list of bodies that were never found—and haven’t been found since. More missing memories.
    “We’ve got to get going,” I say. The classroom has emptied out, and a few students are starting to come in for the next class. “We’re going to be late.”
    She reluctantly lets go of my arm and follows me out the door. It’s funny how our positions are reversed. Now she’s the one trying to corner me.
    “We were working on that case together,” Daneca says. Which is sort of true. “What did you do?” she whispers.
    I look down at her face, searching for what she thinks the answer is. “I never hurt Philip. I never hurt my brother.”
    “What about Barron? What did you do to him?”
    I frown, so confused that for a moment I can’t think of what to say. I have no idea where she got that from. “Nothing!” I say, throwing my hands wide for emphasis. “Barron? Are you crazy?”
    A faint flush colors her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she says. “You did something to someone . You needed immunity. Good people don’t need immunity, Cassel.”
    She’s right, of course. I’m not a good person. The funny thing about good people—people like Daneca—is that they really honestly don’t get the impulse toward evil. They have an incredibly hard time reconciling with the idea that a person who makes them smile can still be capable of terrible things. Which is why, although she’s accusing me of being a murderer, she seems more annoyed than actually worried about getting murdered. Daneca seems to persist in a belief that if I would just listen and understand how bad my bad choices are, I’d stop making them.
    I pause near the stairs. “Look, how about I meet you after dinner and you can ask me whatever you want? And we can talk about Sam.” I can’t tell her everything, but she’s my friend and I could tell her more than I have. Shedeserves as much truth as I can afford to give. And who knows, maybe if I just listen for once, I will make some better choices.
    I couldn’t make much worse ones.
    Daneca brushes a brown curl behind her ear. Her purple glove is smeared with ink. “Will you tell me what you are? Will you tell me that?”
    I suck in my breath in honest surprise. Then I laugh. I’ve never told her my biggest secret—that I’m a transformation worker. I guess it’s time. She must have worked out something or she wouldn’t have asked.
    “You got me,” I say. “You got me there. Yeah, I’ll tell you that. I’ll tell you everything I can.”
    She nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll be in the library after dinner. I have a paper to start.”
    “Great.” I jog down the stairs, running full tilt when I hit the quad so I can make it to ceramics before the final bell. I already have two demerits. I’ve been in enough trouble for a single day.
     
    My pot comes out totally misshapen. It must have had an air bubble in it too, because when I put it into the kiln, it explodes, taking out three other people’s cups and vases along with it.
     
    On my way to track practice, my phone rings. I flip it open and cradle it against my cheek.
    “Cassel,” Agent Yulikova says. “I’d like you to stop by my office. Now. I understand your classes are over for the day,and I’ve arranged for you to be excused. The office understands that you have a doctor’s appointment.”
    “I’m on my way to track,” I say, hoping that she’ll hear the hesitation in my voice. I have a gym bag slung over my shoulder, bouncing off my leg. Overhead the trees are blowing in the wind, covering the campus in a drifting carpet of leaves with the colors of a sunrise. “I’ve missed a lot of