I beamed, but Officer Houston didn’t look happy.
“You got me out? Like, I can go out onto the street? I’m not a fugitive?”
Both men shuffled me out and I cringed in the bright light of the police vestibule, bustling with uniformed cops. “It’s so bright. I think my eyes were adjusting to my life without sunlight.”
“You were in there for two hours,” Will said.
“How did you spring me? Do I owe you for bail?”
“No. It took a lot of smooth talking but”—Will rolled up on the balls of his feet, brushed his nails across his chest—“I’ve got quite a lot of pull.”
Officer Gonzalez, the woman who had shoved me into the cell initially, bustled past us. “And they lost the body,” she said without making eye contact.
My eyes widened. “What?”
Officer Houston’s nostrils flared. “We didn’t lose the body. It just sort of ...”
“Disappeared. Vanished. Poof.” Will grinned.
I thought of the bloody scene, my soiled kitchen knife. “And the crime scene?”
“Completely clean,” Will said, while Officer Houston stewed at my shoulder.
“We think it may have been an elaborate prank,” he said finally. “But until we get concrete verification that Mr. Matsura is safe and well at his sister’s place in Pacif - ica like he says, don’t leave the city.”
“I told you I was innocent! It was Ophelia. She can make you see things. She does that. She’s gotten into your head, too!”
Officer Houston’s chubby cheeks flushed a deeply annoyed red. He looked about to blow, and Will gripped me by the shoulders, pushing me toward the door. “Let’s go before they put you on a seventy-two-hour psych hold. I promise, Officer, we’ll be of no more problems to you.”
I let Will lead me out to the parking lot, my mind working the whole time. “So if everything disappeared—and they talked to Mr. Matsura—that means he’s alive, right?”
Will looked at me, brow furrowed. “Of course, love, how many dead people sit up and answer the phone?”
I shot him my patented Are you kidding me? look and he smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right. You’re all about the walking, talking dead. Fancy a pint?”
I looked around, felt the cool night air, damp with mist from the bay as it rushed over my bare skin. “Yeah, why not. I just got out of the clink. I could go for a beer.”
Chapter Fifteen
We stopped at Will’s car and just before he opened my door I gawked at him. “Hey. Wait!” I reached into my jeans pocket, felt around for his business card. It wasn’t there. I gave myself a brief pat down and tried every pocket twice while Will looked on, his face registering amusement.
“You’ve only been in jail for two hours and already feeling the need for a little conjugal? It’s really unorthodox, but if you need a little loving I guess I could ...”
“Can it, crumpet. I’m looking for the business card.”
“Oh, the nice lady with the tattoo on her neck slipped you her card, did she?”
I put my fists on my hips. “Your business card. The one you slipped into my jeans pocket. The one that said Will Sherman, Guardian.”
Will clicked open my car door and strode toward the driver’s side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t!”
Will’s eyebrows went up and I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Whatever game you’re playing—fine. I don’t know how you got the business card in my pocket and I don’t know what you did with it, but I want to know why.”
“Why what?”
“Why did I have a business card that said Will Sherman, Guardian?”
Will rested his hands on the gearshift, his eyes intent on the street in front of the windshield. “Put your seat belt on.”
I buckled myself in. “You’re the seventh guardian.”
He gave me a grave look. “You know what happened to the other six, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“So I’d thank you to keep this under wraps.”
I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe. But why wouldn’t you have just told me? Why didn’t you just say, ‘Hi, Sophie, I’m here to protect the Vessel of Souls. Pip-pip, cheerio.’”
He looked annoyed. “Why do all Americans think the English say ‘pip-pip’ and ‘cheerio’? It’s really quite obnoxious.”
“Fine. No pip-pip. How about just the ‘I’m the seventh guardian of the Vessel of Souls.’ Would have saved us both a whole heck of a lot of strife.”
“Would have saved you a bit of strife. Me, not so much. I have to keep my identity a secret.”
“Why? Are you also Superman?”
Will guided the car out of the police department lot and into the smooth flow of late-night traffic. “My job isn’t exactly an easy one.”
“Because of Ophelia trying to pick you off ?”
“Because the item that I am charged with guarding does stupid things like taking up with a fallen angel or getting herself thrown in jail.”