“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“He’s right, you know. I don’t know what I want. I should want to help all those people. From the heart, not just because of my instincts, but . . .” Her eyes filled with—what?— guilt? “Does that make me a bad person?”
Yes, guilt. “Of course it doesn’t.”
“I make a terrible Morphid.” She let out a sad chuckle. “I should really want to help them, right? I mean, you want to protect me. Don’t you?”
“There’s a lot of things I want to do for you.” Greg smiled crookedly. Maybe it wasn’t the time to joke, but he couldn’t stand the heaviness and worry on her face.
“I’m serious,” she said, though she still couldn’t stop the twinkle in her gorgeous eyes. “How many of them are out there? I mean, not just here in New York, but everywhere. What if there are tons of Danata’s in the world, doing this kind of evil every day? Am I going to spend the rest of my life following some instinct and fixing what others break? I don’t want that.”
“I wish I knew the answer.” He felt her uncertainty as if it were his own. She was overwhelmed, scared. He hated to see her this way. There was only one thing he could offer her. “What I do know is that I’ll be with you every step of the way. No matter what you have to do, you’ll never be alone.”
Her smile let him know he’d said the right thing. A few words of reassurance had helped her, even if just a little. She reached for his hand. They intertwined their fingers. She blinked as if in slow motion, her eyes practically crossing from exhaustion.
“Come here.” He slipped an arm under Sam’s legs and the other one around her back. In one careful, swift motion, he lifted her and sat her on his lap.
“I’m not a baby,” she said in a drowsy voice.
He kissed her forehead.
In a matter of seconds her breathing grew rhythmic and she fell asleep. Greg smiled. He was always the one falling asleep in the blink of an eye, not her. He looked around. Mateo had suggested finding cots and bringing them in here, but who was he kidding? Greg was too weighed down by fatigue to go rummaging around a strange place. They had sleeping bags rolled at the bottom of their packs, but even that seemed more effort than it was worth.
Instead, with Sam cradled in his arms, he scooted a few inches into the corner of the room and leaned his back between the intersecting walls, making sure Sam was comfortable, her neck at an angle that wouldn’t cause a crick. The press of her body against his eased his nerves. She was safe with him.
This was as good a place as any to rest. He lowered his head toward Sam until he was close enough to smell the rich shampoo on her hair. As he took in her scent, his breathing slowed, his jaw relaxed. The weariness from the last twenty-four hours hit him like an armored truck and left his extremities numb and useless.
Sleep sucker punched him before he had a chance to fight back.
Chapter 28 - Brooke
This had to be the mind job of the millennium. Really, because in spite of all the crazy crap all the gorgeous people had laid out in front of her, Brooke felt like she had a pretty good handle on everything. So yeah, she suspected brain washing had been involved in the process. Or maybe something in the delicious raspberry tea the girl Calisto had given her.
Brooke set the glass down on a coaster and looked around the room, amazed at how quickly she was getting used to being surrounded by these demigods. Well, not all of them; looking at Perry still made her knees feel like huge wads of bubblegum, but whatever.
Everyone was sitting in the “parlor”—that’s what Roanna had called it—arranged in a semi-circle around Brooke like she was some kind of head of state or Donatella Versace holding interviews for her next runway show. There were two ladies, two old men and four young people around her age.
Brooke went over their names in her head as she examined their faces.
Roanna and Luana were easy to remember because their names rhymed. Although they seemed to call the mean-looking woman by her last name, Mirante. Maybe that was a thing with villains. Like Hitler or Voldemort.
Then there was Bernard, Sam’s father—way more handsome than James, hands down.
Portos, someone’s ex-High Sorcerer, whatever that meant. It sounded important, and there was the robe, so that probably meant he was powerful, because why would anyone run around dressed like that? Unless, of course, he could make people to poop green toads if they messed with him.
Next were the brother and sister, Calisto and Joao, the constipated-looking lady’s kids. Brooke couldn’t decide where they were from. Their mother had a different accent than they did. Mirante sounded Portuguese or Brazilian, but her kids sounded as British as Big Ben. She briefly wondered about their father, who seemed to be nowhere in sight.
And finally, Ashby and Perry, who kept exchanging nervous glances and seemed eager to get this over with and get out of here.
The room was large, but it had a stuffy feeling that had Brooke sitting like a proper lady, not slouching like usual. She felt important and all, but shoot! was her back killing her. The decor had a lot to do with it—all the grand, stately pieces of furniture that looked as if they’d once belonged to King Louis XVI or King George III, whichever one applied. Like the chair she was sitting on. It was nice, but uncomfortable as heck and had to be worth more than all her possessions combined.
Brooke lined up the coaster and glass, afraid someone might accuse her of leaving rings on the polished surface of the cute tea table.
“Sooo . . . let me see if I’ve got this straight, just to make sure,” she said when the bombardment of explanations finally stopped. “You and you,” she pointed at Roanna and Bernard, “are Companions, which means you are destined for each other. You got married, and sixteen years ago had a little girl you named Celestine.
“Like in any good fairytale, there’s an evil sister. Just like you’d expect, she was jealous of you ‘cause you were, or are, like the Queen of all Morphidkind.”
“Regent,” Perry interrupted.
“What I just said,” Brooke gave him a mean look. She still hadn’t forgiven him for erasing her memory, so he needed to shut up, unless he wanted her to jump him and make him scream for his mom. Perry looked unimpressed. He winked and, just like that, sent her heart into a rhythm that would make any rap song jealous. She jerked her gaze away from him and focused it on the other end of the room.
“Then one day,” Brooke continue, trying to ignore the thumping inside her chest, “Evil Sister decided it was time to take over, so she like ripped the bond that connected you two.” She looked at Roanna and Bernard. They nodded once, their faces the perfect picture of patience.
“Somehow, Baby Celestine—who you say is my best friend Sam—escaped the Evil Sister’s clutches and got banished to Indiana, of all places.” Brooke was enjoying this. All these pretty people looking at her, hanging from her every word. Well, except for Mirante, she kept rolling her eyes and pacing by the fancy fireplace. Brooke didn’t like this lady one bit, though her kids seemed nice enough, at least Calisto, anyway.
“Now, this part, you have to admit is a problem. I mean, how come no one knows how the little girl disappeared? That’s just weird.”
She gave Roanna and Bernard a raised eyebrow and an skeptical, twisted mouth.
“Well . . .” Bernard’s eyes flicked toward Ashby for an instant, but Brooke didn’t miss a beat. “We have a few guesses as to who might have helped her, but we aren’t sure. We’d rather not speculate at the moment.”
“Okay, I get it.” Brooke decided to leave that one alone. Whoever had helped the little girl had something to do with Ashby and, from the looks of it, made for a touchy subject.
“So after the ripping thing, Roanna and Bernard sort of lost their minds, and Evil Sister banished you to a looney bin.” Roanna nodded. “And kept you around her castle, since you didn’t know right from left and didn’t pose a threat.”
“That is a fair assessment,” Bernard
said.
“So fifteen years went by and Ashby morphed,” she couldn’t believe she was saying and believing this, “and then Sam morphed. And lo and behold, coincidence of all coincidences, they morphed into Companions which means they share one of those v-bonds.” She made air quotes.
“Vinculums,” Perry corrected.
Brooke didn’t even look at him. Her heart didn’t need to break out into song again.
“Long story short, Evil Sister becomes Evil Mom, and she rips her own son from her Companion. Ashby is left for dead. Sam flees with her Keeper.” More air quotes, because really. “As they escape with the help of Jedi Master Portos.”
The old guy chuckled and smoothed his robe with pride. She had to give it to him, he totally owned it and rocked it, even if he was old.
“And this is where things get even more exciting, you guys,” Brooke felt giddy all over. “Sam discovers her superpower, and it turns out to be the opposite of the evil relative lady. So she fixes Bernard, totally unaware that she’s helping her own father—oh, the chills that gives me.” Brooke had to rub her arms at that one. “Then, without time to find out anything, Sam and Greg are magically transported out of the castle and back to oh-so-boring West Lafayette, Indiana.
“Once there, they proceed to lie to everyone, including me, pretending to be human and hiding from Evil Sister slash Mom. Oh, and don’t let me forget the evil Sorcerer who tried to charbroil poor Sam but, instead, blew up her car and a gas station in the process.
“Which brings us to last night when said evil Sorcerer showed up at my party and shot like a rocket through the roof. Not to mention when I got kidnapped by a bunch of . . .” she looked around and, deciding that name-calling isn’t a smart thing to do when you’re outnumbered, she added, “. . . Morphids.”
Brooke smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Is that all? Did I miss anything?” she asked, sarcasm the main ingredient in her question.
“That is all, as it relates to past events,” Roanna said. “We wanted you to understand everything so you can see how urgent it is that we find . . . Samantha.”
The lady still had trouble using that name, but it seemed to be getting easier. She’d have to move on to Sam, soon, if she wanted to get to know her. But one step at a time.
“Will you help us?” Roanna was practically begging.
Brooke’s knee jogged up and down as she thought of what to do next. This situation was too messed up not to be true. So yeah, she believed everything, even if she had to pinch herself every time she started to doubt her sanity.
Except just because she believed them, didn’t mean she trusted them.
She took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best course of action. If they cared about Sam’s safety, they should appreciate Brooke’s protective streak.
“For all I know, you’re the ones trying to hurt Sam, so—”
“We are not!” Ashby blurted out, speaking for the first time.
“Hey, you’re the Regent’s son. You’re the last one in here I’d trust.”
“After what she did—”
“Please, Ashby,” Roanna interrupted, “Brooke has a right to feel this way. These are not the best circumstances to inspire trust. Let her finish.”
Ashby sank down in his chair, his fingers twisting against each other like they belonged to a contortionist.
Brooke continued, “So . . . I’d like to talk to Sam first and see if this story checks out with her.”
“That sounds perfect,” Roanna said with a big smile. “You can call her.”
“Well, I don’t have my phone with me, but—”
“We have a phone,” Mirante said in an icy tone that implied they had a lot more than just that.
“I’m sure you do.” Brooke couldn’t hide her irritation, even if the woman scared the panties off her every time she shot those mean green eyes her way. “But I want to go back home and call Sam from my own cell phone. Plus I have to make sure you repaired my house and erased my parents’ memory sticks.” She swiped a finger across her forehead. “Otherwise, no deal.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and made her most stubborn pout. It was a great plan, really. Besides, this wasn’t turning out to be the adventure she’d expected. Mirante was the biggest party pooper ever, and this was her house. So it was doubtful there’d be much fun to be had under her watch anyway. And Brooke had to make sure her parents and home were all right, too.
Mirante exchanged a glance with Roanna that didn’t inspire much confidence.
“In this matter, Mirante should decide the best course of action,” Roanna said.
What?! No way.
Roanna had been nice up to now, but it seemed Brooke had overplayed her hand.
Mirante smiled and said. “Your request won’t be possible. We are not going back to your house. It isn’t safe. Not for our people. You may call your parents, if you wish. You will find out that everything is as it should be. I sent someone to take care of things as soon as you arrived. The police and firefighters’ memories had to be modified, too, so I acted immediately. It seemed safe enough at the time, but I wouldn’t risk it now. Danata may have sent spies after Veridan reported back.”
“No,” Mirante added, her voice full of authority. “If you mean to help us, you will help us here. If you don’t, you may go. Portos could transport you back. Not to your house, directly, but somewhere nearby. Your school, perhaps. At your own risk, of course. We won’t be responsible for whatever happens to you after you are dropped off. Also, keep in mind your memory will have to be altered once more. We will give you a minute to consider, then we’ll come back. Everyone, please, let’s give her some time to think this through.”
They all filed out of the room. Mirante gave her a simpering smile, then raised her chin up in the air.
Witch.
Calisto was the only one who looked her way in a sympathetic manner. With a mom like Mirante, she was probably used to these ultimatums and could empathize. Brooke sat there, back stiff, mind reeling. She had seriously misjudged the situation. Maybe Roanna wasn’t only rainbows and unicorns. She could be mean, even if through others.
Well, poop. What now?
Chapter 29 - Sam
Something like a tiny electric shock brought Sam out of a dead sleep. Her eyes sprang open to the sight of very high, very dirty ceiling tiles. It took her a moment to realize that she was lying across Greg’s legs, that the annoying sensation on her back was her cell phone’s vibration, and that the ceiling looked high because they were on the floor of the conference room where she’d . . .
Sam scrambled to her feet, disoriented. Her phone was on Greg’s lap vibrating away. It had slipped out of her back pocket. As she leaned down to grab it, Greg shot to his feet and sent the iPhone skidding across the floor.
“What? What is it?” He looked around with wide, blue eyes.
She chased after the phone and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”
The caller had disconnected already. She stared at the screen and frowned.
“Who was it?” Greg asked.
“I don’t know. Looks like a weird number. International maybe.”
“International?” His voice went tight with suspicion. “Shit! We should have probably gotten rid of that phone. They could trace it, couldn’t they?”
Sam had no idea what it took to trace a phone, but it probably wasn’t all that hard, especially if you had the means to pay someone who knew how.
The phone started vibrating again. A call from the same number.
“Don’t answer it!” Greg exclaimed.
Sam was tempted to pick up. Her finger hovered over the green button as she wondered who it could be. After some thought, she shook her head and tapped the red button instead. One simple click could undo the effort of the last few days—not that undoing half of what had happened didn’t sound like a good idea. Maybe they should have headed west like Greg had wanted.
“What do we do with it?” Sam stared at the ph
one as if it was a time-ticking bomb. There even was a voicemail from James she didn’t have the heart to listen to.
“Maybe turn it off. I don’t think they can trace it if it’s off. I’m not really sure.”
It didn’t sound like Greg knew how cell phones could be tracked either. For all they knew, whoever had been trying to reach them had already pinpointed their location.
Sam shut down the phone and watched the screen go through the usual cycle. “How will I know if Brooke is okay? I need to find out.”
“We’ll buy a disposable phone first chance we get. I should have packed one in our bags.” Greg looked mad at himself and shut down his own phone.
“Where is everyone?” Sam asked. “Did we sleep?”
“Not as long as I would’ve liked.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, looking very disappointed. “Mateo just left.” Greg looked at his watch. He scratched his chin. It made a raspy sound that, for some reason, she found sexy. “Well, it actually looks like we slept more than I thought. That was like six hours ago.”
“What time is it?”
“Six A.M.”
Greg stretched his neck. “That barely felt like thirty minutes.” He looked to the door with a “what now?” expression on his face.
Sam followed his gaze then looked back at the corner where they’d been sleeping. “I was pretty comfortable in your arms.”
Greg smiled. His eyes lit up, turning a radiant shade of blue that could brighten the worst of days. Even one like today where it felt as if a giant rolling pin had run her over, just to hand her over to the spiky side of a meat tenderizing mallet.
“Yeah, the spot had its perks,” he said with an even bigger grin. He walked to her, took both her hands and kissed her gently on the forehead. A chill ran down the side of her face. “How do you feel? You looked so weak after . . .”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, it drained me.”
“The first time when you helped your . . . Bernard, it wasn’t like that. You were fine afterward. But with Elizabeth, it just seemed to take so much out of you. Should I be worried?”
Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2) Page 17
