Free Interview With a Gargoyle by Jennifer Colgan Page B

feeling like all the air had gone out of her.
    Wearily she settled on the couch. Without the “witch hunter” to glare at, Calypso seemed a little directionless and fidgety. A strange energy permeated the room, and it made Mel’s heart race and her palms sweat.
    The witch paced. “This isn’t good, Mel. Not good at all. He knows where you live, where you work, and he’s still convinced you have the Cabochon.”
    “I do.” She might not have trusted her instincts, but every cell in her body was screaming it. “I have got it.”
    Calypso froze mid-step, and her jaw dropped.
    Mel explained the Web article and Palmer’s assurance that it couldn’t be true. “I know it sounds completely insane, but what if?”
    Cal sank down in the chair opposite the couch. “Yeah. Crazy insane. It’s not like you’re a demon queen. Are you? ”
    Mel chuckled, but her humor faded when Calypso remained staring at her. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Don’t you think I’d know if I was a demon?”
    “There are hybrids, but they’re rare. No offense, you’re not adopted, right? You knew both your parents? There’s no one in your family tree who’s a little…strange-looking?”
    Mel gaped. “Come on, Calypso. That’s ridiculous.” Didn’t Great Uncle Benjamin claim to have twelve toes? Aunt Mary always said she wore turtlenecks to cover her psoriasis, but did anyone really know for sure? “No. No. My family is as normal as any second-generation mostly Irish American family can be. We’ve got a few characters, but no demons. And even if we did, I’m certainly not their queen .”
    “Any witches?” Cal raised her brows.
    “No. My cousin Fiona used to tell people she was an elf, but a year of therapy cleared that up.” An odd realization hit Mel then. “Cal, you didn’t actually say it was impossible for me to have absorbed the Cabochon, did you?”
    Calypso hedged. She studied her black manicure and tugged on the zipper of one of her boots. “Well, no.”
    “So I could have, even though I’m human?”
    “Anything is possible.”
    Mel’s stomach lurched. “So what do I do? How do I get rid of it? What if DeWitt follows me around for the rest of my life trying to get it from me?”
    Cal grabbed Mel’s hands to steady them. “Relax. We’ll figure something out. First we need to confirm that you have the Cabochon. I’ve got to figure out how to do that. Then I can research how to get it out of you without…”
    “What? Without what?”
    “Well, the demon queen holds the Cabochon until she dies. That’s the only time it takes solid form and can be transferred to another queen.”
    Mel shot up from the couch. “So I have to die to get rid of this thing?”
    “No, no, no. I’m sure there’s some other way to get it out of you.”
    “Calypso, don’t lie.” Mel plopped back on the couch and jammed her hands underneath her knees. “You don’t know for sure, do you?”
    Cal bowed her head. “No, I don’t. But I’m going to find out.”

Chapter Nine
    Mel spent her shift at Gleason’s sculpting a hundred and ten pink fondant roses for the Augustine wedding cake. Work actually kept her mind off Blake DeWitt, but with Calypso whispering into her cell phone half the night, talking to members of her far-flung coven, Mel still couldn’t concentrate.
    Though she kept shooting fragile smiles in Mel’s direction between abrupt conversations and frantic texting, none of the calls Calypso made seemed to end on a positive note. Plagued by a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Mel kept losing count of the nonpareils she was gluing to the roses with a sugar glaze. The little silver balls kept dropping and rolling away, which added to her nervousness.
    When Calypso finished what had to have been her fifteenth phone call, she came over to Mel’s workstation and gave the roses an appreciative look. “These are perfect. Fantastic work.”
    “Much easier than moose antlers,” Mel said.
    “I’ll