Black Heart

BLACK HEART DI JAMIE JOHANSSON BOOK 7 MORGAN GREENE CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Author’s Note What comes next? 1 Annika Olsen It was sixty-seven feet from the roof of the Gotland University administration building to the concrete pavement below. And Annika Olsen was standing no more than five feet from the spot where Juni Pedersen landed. It happened so quickly that Annika missed the flash out of the corner of her eye. It was the sound that registered first. Like when an oar hits the water, paddle flat. A dull slap. She blinked, eyes stinging, something warm on the side of her face. As she lifted her hand to her cheek to touch the wetness there, not understanding, the faces of the people standing in front of her told the story. The boy was nineteen, studying maths. His eyes widened in shock, lips trembling. He began stumbling backwards before Annika even turned her attention to the girl on his left. She just started shuddering, her hands flying up to cover her open mouth. Annika saw her uvula quiver at the back of her throat before she let out a scream so piercing it caused Annika’s whole body to break out in gooseflesh. The girl turned and scrambled after the boy, and Annika drew her fingers from her wet cheek and saw them red with blood. My blood? She began to turn, slowly, holding her hand before her face, and saw the body. At first, Annika didn’t recognise her. Blonde, petite, with curled hair that was now matted to her face, blood running from her nose, her mouth, her ears, her eyes. They stared vacantly across the ground as her blood leaked out, running into the drain at the side of the road twelve inches beyond her head. She was on her front, head twisted to one side, arms crooked, legs splayed, facing in odd directions. It came to her then. Annika recognised her. Juni. Her friend, Juni. Panic erupted around her, people yelling and shoving, trying to run this way and that. But all the noise had now disappeared, faded beyond the veil of ringing that had fallen in Annika’s head. She just stared down at the girl on the pavement, not quite grasping what she was seeing, what had happened. Her eyes moved across the body as though she were looking at some strange animal she’d never seen before, taking in her shape, her colour, her features. Her clothing. The books spilling from her bag. Novels, books of essays. English literature. Annika’s eyes fell upon the girl’s left forearm, the mark there. At first, she didn’t know what it was. But then it came into focus, raw and turbulent on the girl’s pale, soft skin. A black heart, etched into the flesh. And then it was gone. Arms enveloped Annika, large and strong, and swept her away. She looked up, seeing the face of a lecturer she thought taught Computer Science. Another was shielding the girl’s body, ordering people away. The lecturer dragged Annika from the scene, his mouth moving. She felt the vibrations of his words against her cheek, her head pressed to his chest, hands pinned at her sides, heels half walking half dragging under her. But what he was saying, she didn’t know. All she could hear was a sharp, high-pitched ringing. And all she could taste was the distinct, metallic tang of blood. Blood she knew wasn’t hers. * * * ‘Annika?’ She looked up from her position on the sofa. It was leather, brown, faded. Overly soft. The kind you can’t get up from easily. She was being forced to sit side-saddle so that her knees didn’t rise up in front of her. In her lap, she could see she’d shredded the tissue she’d been given. She’d not needed it for her tears. There hadn’t been any, despite the woman in front of her telling her it was okay to cry … five, no, six times. Yeah. That was it. ‘Are you with me?’ the woman asked. What a bloody condescending question. ‘What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal.’ ‘It’s normal to be standing five feet from someone as they hit the ground after leaping from a rooftop?’ Annika asked cuttingly. ‘We don’t know what happened, yet,’ the counsellor said slowly. ‘She might have slipped, or—’ Annika snorted. ‘Bullshit. She jumped. She killed herself. Like the others.’ ‘We shouldn’t—’ ‘She had the black heart, too.’ The counsellor fell silent. ‘I was close enough to see. Trust me.’ Annika sat forward now. ‘Juni killed herself. Number twenty-three.’ She shook her head. ‘I know this is scary—’ ‘Scary?’ Annika interrupted again. ‘I’m not scared. I just don’t understand.’ ‘And you want to?’ ‘Of course, don’t you?’ She searched the woman’s face. She was in her fifties, kindly looking, wearing a knitted blouse, oversized fake pearls. ‘It’s natural to feel a need for closure.’ ‘I don’t need closure,’ Annika spat. ‘I need to know why.’ The woman smiled softly, though Annika could tell by her unfocused eyes that her primary concern was running out the clock. ‘That is closure.’ ‘Juni wouldn’t have killed herself,’ she replied coolly, ‘not like that, at least. Not without … without saying something, or without me noticing. I would have noticed if something was wrong.’ ‘It’s natural to blame yourself for—’ ‘I don’t blame myself,’ Annika interrupted. ‘I blame … whatever’s doing this. I blame the … the hearts. I need to know why.’ ‘Wanting to understand why