Jude quirks an eyebrow. “A creature?”
“A cryptid.”
“A cryptid?” he repeats.
“A small one.”
“How small?” Twig asks.
“About the size of a raccoon. Or more like…” I snap my fingers. “A gremlin! It was the size of a gremlin.”
“What is a gremlin?” Jude asks.
Twig and I look at him.
He looks back.
“From the Christmas movie,” I say.
His expression remains blank.
“You’ve never seenGremlins?”
He gives his head a wary shake, and I’m reminded once again of his life before Foggy Hollow. His wealthy, insulated boarding school life, where classics and the 1980s were not synonymous. “They’re these cute little creatures that turn into monsters when they get wet. Only this one had lavender fur and eyes that looked like full moons without any pupils or irises.”
Jude blinks. “You saw this in the woods?”
“It coughed up this seed,” I say, lifting my hand.
He goes a bit pale.
Up until very recently, Jude was not a believer in uncanny things. He wore that skepticism on his sleeve. But then we found a portrait painted two centuries ago by his ancestor, Ezra, featuringmeof all people, which led to an avalanche of supernatural discoveries, including but not limited to: a family curse, an immortal cousin who was never really his cousin but Ezra’s brother, Raphael, resurrected by a fallen angel, an alternate dimension with actual monsters, magical amulets—one of which brought Jude back to life after we broke the curse—and the incontrovertible truth of hisangelic lineage. Apparently, I have one too. Which was why we could go into that alternate dimension and not combust into flame.
Or so I thought.
Up until my phone started exploding with text messages in the woods, I thought this alternate dimension was deadly to anyone without angelic blood. Hence, Lainey Sikes and Ivy Winslow combusting and Twig’s cooked foot. Now? I’m not sure what to think. Needless to say, Jude’s had to process a lot in a very short amount of time. His entire worldview has been flipped upside down and inside out, and now must include the very real possibility of gremlin-like cryptids hopping through the woods on his estate.
“Did you get a picture?” Twig asks.
“There wasn’t time. As soon as I saw it, it coughed up this seed and darted away. I chased after it and—” I peek into the waiting room, where the phone keeps ringing, and lower my voice. “It led me to another rift.”
Jude and Twig stare at me.
“The creature hopped through it, and then my phone started blowing up about Lainey.”
I peek at Mrs. Winslow, who continues to plead. Griffin Tate, who continues to sulk.
“Now you have this,” Twig says, taking the seed from my palm.
I watch him expectantly.
But nothing seems to happen. He just holds it between his thumb and forefinger, examining it beneath the light. “How do you know this is the thing it coughed up?”
“Because at the time, it was glowing.”
The front doors slide open.
A harassed-looking man hurries inside with a wailing toddler.
