Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2) (32 page)

“If anyone says anything, we’ll tell them you’re meditating,” Brooke said. “We’ll sit around you and act like a new-age loving bunch. We can hold hands and even sing kumbaya. It’ll be fine.”

The sun shone brightly above. The complex and parking lot were quiet and nearly empty. Everyone was at work or school. They had nothing to worry about.

Shrugging in agreement, Calisto sat down on the sidewalk and went into a trance for the third time. They stood around her and waited without saying a word. Ashby clenched and unclenched his fists, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands with every squeeze. The pain anchored him in the moment, keeping at bay the emptiness that still pushed around him.

He bit his tongue several times to hold back the bitter words that flooded his mouth. He wanted to quit searching for Sam. Why go after her? What hope was there for him, if she was in love with Greg? What would he get from her? A pathetic explanation? A handful of useless excuses? She wouldn’t repair their vinculum, not if she was happy with her Keeper.

Soon, pain wasn’t enough and he was lost in the conflict that raged within him. Time slipped away until he had no sense of how long they’d stood there. His entire being seemed to drift as a force greater than his will pulled at his very soul. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should have died that day. He still might, if he didn’t get a foothold on the sane side of existence.

“They stopped at that corner and sat there for several minutes,” Calisto blurted out.

“Shit!” Brooke exclaimed. “Could you please not do that? First you look like your dead, next you spring back into life. It’s freaky.”

Calisto ignored the comment, stood and strode down the parking lot toward the exit that spilled onto the adjacent road.

They filed behind her like ducklings after their mother. When they got there, Calisto sat at the base of the stop sign on the corner and immediately went into a trance.

“What the hell?” Brooke said.

Joao exhaled and mussed his hair. “She gets like this after she’s used her skills several times in a row. A bit frantic, is all. She’s fine.”

Brooke stared down at Calisto in disbelief. “She doesn’t plan to find them by going from intersection to intersection, does she? ‘Cause if they headed for Oregon, it’ll take us a lifetime to get there.”

“She’ll follow the trace as long as she thinks it’s reasonable,” Joao said in an exasperated tone. He walked a few paces away, following the sidewalk along the main road.

Cars drove by, their exhaust bathing them in toxic fumes. The drivers and passengers stared, their necks bending out of shape as they moved past. Being among humans always had this effect. It made Ashby bloody uncomfortable. Four Morphids on one random street corner was just too much for these rubberneckers.

Perry stood behind Ashby, arms crossed over his chest. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, he was fuming. He hadn’t liked being told to stay away from Brooke. Normally, Ashby didn’t interfere in Perry’s bedroom affairs, but this couldn’t be allowed. Brooke was Sam’s best friend, and if . . . if he found her and was reunited with her—
stupid hope
—he didn’t want to feel responsible for the inevitable debacle a relationship between Perry and Brooke would turn out to be.

Ashby turned away from the others. Shame flooded his chest. How could he be so stupid to hope for anything to still linger between him and Sam? He knew his face had turned red from embarrassment, and tears didn’t feel far behind. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this and find out just how defeated and impotent he felt.

He struggled not to call the search off. He was a coward, but no one else needed to know that. Even if Sam wasn’t for him, she had a right to know her real parents were alive. Who was he to get in the way of that?

“Well, we are screwed,” Calisto said from her spot by the stop sign.

“Nothing again?” Brooke asked, frustrated.

“I did get something, but it may as well be nothing.” Calisto stood and dusted her backside.

“Well, spill!”

“They headed east. New York City, to be exact. Sam had a feeling there should head there. Seemed like her instincts were guiding her.”

“New York City?” Brooke echoed.

“What’s in New York City?” Joao asked Ashby and Brooke.

“The hell if I know,” Brooke said. “Sam’s never even visited. Was that all you got?”

Calisto nodded. “Yep.”

“How the hell are we going to find them in that huge-ass place with nothing else to go by?”

“We probably won’t,” Joao said. “But there are birds in Central Park, right? We might as well try.”

Chapter 41 - Sam

Sam wasn’t cold anymore, and the hot soup Nadine had brought her was helping build back her energy. She was sitting up on the cot while Greg watched her with his intense blue gaze.

Refusing the soup when Nadine first offered it had been a bad call. It had sent Greg into over-protective mode. Now he would probably try to push food her way every time he got a chance.

“You don’t look so pale anymore.” He was sitting on the cot opposite her, making it look like a child’s toy that might break under his weight at any moment.

“Magical soup.” Sam held the metal cup to her lips and took another sip, her hands relishing the warmth as she held tightly on to it.

“Are you feeling better?” Someone asked from behind. “Well enough for a visitor?”

Greg looked up. Sam swiveled to find Mateo, Bruce and Jacob behind her.

“I sense this is what you need right now.” Mateo gestured back toward his companions.

Sam’s chin trembled under Bruce’s poignant gaze. There was nothing vague or vacant about it. He stood perfectly straight, which made him look so much taller than he had before.

“Sam! You did it!” Jacob exclaimed and ran in her direction.

She barely had time to place the cup of soup on the floor before the boy climbed over the cot and flung his arms around her neck. He said something, but the words were choked up as he began to cry. His chest spasmed with each sob and his tears seeped through her shirt.

“Thank you, Sam. Thank you,” he managed.

“Shh, it’s nothing.”

“It’s
not
nothing.” Jacob pulled away and wiped a hand across his face, drying his tears. “Mateo said you’ve been resting, said it took a lot out of you.” His baby blue eyes were rimmed red and his little nose was a swollen knob. He looked cute even when he cried.

“Nothing a little sleep and hot soup couldn’t fix. I feel much better now.”

“Sam,” an unfamiliar voice said.

She looked up in surprise, searching for a new person in the room. But no one else had come in. The voice belonged to Bruce. It was strong and focused, not a shred of frailty left in it.

“May I call you Sam?” Bruce Cofield asked.

“Of course.”

“How can I thank you?”

“You don’t have to.”

Bruce nodded forcefully. “I certainly do. What I have endured the last four years has been hell on Earth. You put an end to it. You freed me. If only I had found you sooner, maybe my wife would . . .” He trailed off, some of the previous shakiness returning to his voice. “Anyway, thanks to you, I can finally take care of my son the way he deserves.”

“He’s a wonderful boy.” Sam squeezed Jacob’s hand. “You should be proud of him.”

“I am.” Bruce looked at his son, tears pooling in his eyes. “No child should have to go through what he did. I plan to make it up to him.” Father and son looked at each other and exchanged a warm smile. Jacob left Sam’s side, walked to his dad and wrapped his arms around his waist. The boy looked joyful. For the most part, he’d always been a positive, happy child, but now his face glowed, and he practically bounced on the balls of his feet with delight.

“That’s a promise, son.”

Mateo stepped forward. “It was Danata.”

Behind her, Greg stood and moved closer.

“Bruce worked for Arise,” Mateo continued, “a program designed to support Morphid families in an effort to stop our declining numbers. He was the head of US operations. During one of Danata’s visits, they had a disagreement, and she . . .”

“My wife died, not long after the ripping,” Bruce said.

Jacob whimpered and hugged him tighter. So he had given his son the sad news. Sam’s heart ached for the boy, for his dashed hopes and dreams.

“My recollection of what happened is vague,” Bruce continued, “like a fog fell over my eyes the moment Danata used her evil power on us, and it stayed with me ever since. I fought it. Sometimes I even managed small moments of lucidity, accurate glimpses of the world around me. But never more than that. If it wasn’t for Jacob,” he caressed the boy’s face with amazing tenderness, “I would have probably died, too.”

Mateo clamped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’ll get on your feet again. I have contacts and can help you get a job, a place to live, somewhere Jacob will be safe.”

A certain fire filled Bruce’s eyes at these words. What Mateo had said was important to Bruce, and Sam had no doubt Mateo had used his skill to figure out the man’s most burning need.

“Yes, keep him safe.” Bruce looked down at his son. “His mother saw a Diviner once, years before morphing. He told her she would lose her first born. A bit vague, given that she lost everything. She always worried, begged me to take it seriously, but I chose to think it was nonsense.” He lowered his head in shame. “I have to take care of him, keep him safe. For her.”

Mateo slapped a hand to Bruce’s shoulder. “You will.”

Bruce seemed to notice Greg for the first time. He looked him up and down, a hint of distrust in his eyes.

“Mr. Cofield, this is Greg Papilio,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.”

“And her Keeper,” Mateo added.

“Keeper?” Bruce echoed. “A protector?” The expression in his eyes changed to something like awe.

“That’s right,” Mateo said. “She’s important, and it isn’t hard to figure out why.”

Sam shook her head. She didn’t want to be important. She
wasn’t
important. She wanted a peaceful, normal life. Not a life of hiding and living the pain these severed people felt every time her instincts compelled her to heal someone.

She wanted a simple life with Greg, and her free will. She wanted her free will. The prerogative to live her life however she chose.

“She can undo Regent Danata’s evil.” Bruce sounded like he couldn’t decide whether this was a question or a matter-of-fact statement.

“And there’s more,” Mateo said. “She’s Roanna Rothblade’s daughter.”

Bruce searched Sam’s face as if trying to recognize someone else in the shape of her nose or curve of her mouth.

“I thought the Regent’s daughter died with her in a car accident.”

“Just another one of Danata’s lies,” Mateo said bitterly. “You’ll have to heal everyone, Sam.” He stepped forward, restless with excitement.

“Wait a minute,” Greg interjected. “Did you forget what happened just a few hours ago? She collapsed. For a moment there, I couldn’t sense her at all. She’s not healing anyone else until we figure out what caused that. Don’t forget, my job is to protect her, and I’ll do that no matter what.”

“Of course, Greg,” Mateo said. “No one who has ever suffered at Danata’s hands would want anything else.” He looked somewhat disappointed, but sounded sincere.

Sam turned to Greg. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I think I just overdid it. I should have waited before healing Mr. Cofield. It was too much.”

“Are you sure that was it?” Greg asked.

It seemed some part of her was sure, but she didn’t feel like a whole person anymore, so it was hard to think in absolutes.

Before she could answer, Mateo said, “She’s new to her skills and doesn’t know exactly how they work. Instincts are strong in young Morphids. It takes time for our minds to learn how to control them. She will figure it out.”

“Whatever the case, you will rest. Promise me,” Greg said.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam’s exhaustion was bone-deep. Like a little girl, she wished she could be back in her own room with her own things. Her soft bed with their clean, flower scented sheets. Her baggy, flannel pajamas and warm socks. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d worn yesterday and didn’t even remember when she’d last showered.

“She should eat something substantial, too. It’s well past lunch,” Mateo pointed out.

“Greg, too.” Sam had heard his stomach growl several times. At least she’d had some hot tea and soup. He’d had nothing since breakfast.

“You could stay here, if you want,” Mateo said, “but it would be an honor if all of you stayed with me. My apartment is small, but there are some extra cots here that we could bring with us. There’ll be a bit more privacy. You could take a shower. I know you two want one, badly.” He laughed to himself. “Probably
need
one, too.” He laughed harder.

“Um, Elizabeth is already there. Are you sure that’s not too much?” Sam asked.

“Nah, I’ve had twenty people stay there at once. That was a challenge. This would be nothing.”