Knavery: A Ripple Novel (Ripple Series Book 6)

by Cidney Swanson

  Georg frowned at her and turned away, gazing out the picture window at the city lights. Finally, he turned back.

  “I’ll go,” he said. “But I want one of those antidotes. Fritz has a gun that fires Neuroplex darts.”

  Katrin hesitated, looking down at the two remaining injection pens. She knew Pfeffer would have more—Georg said none of de Rochefort’s company traveled without them. Slowly, she extended her hand, surrendering one of the pens. The other one, she clutched close. That pen and the empty tin: these were … not trophies, certainly. Mementoes? Yes. Mementoes. And she would keep them.

  Georg pocketed the antidote and nodded curtly. “I’ll return with news, one way or the other.”

  Katrin felt her eyes pricking with tears. She blinked them back. “Good luck.”

  And then Georg was gone.

  Only after Georg had disappeared did it occur to Katrin she hadn’t warned him of the dangerous white lotion. What if Fritz was packing more than just a dart gun? She cursed in silence. She wasn’t going to lose Georg as well. She closed her eyes and relaxed into her caméleon form, following Georg back to Geneses, praying she could find him once she got to the building.

  ~ ~ ~

  Along with Chrétien and Pfeffer, Sir Walter re-entered the Geneses building at 6:20 PM.

  Fritz was making rather a lot of noise, Sir Walter noted.

  He is very angry, Chrétien said. He has departed his office, but I believe I hear the frightened thoughts of someone who remains behind.

  Georg and Katrin? asked Pfeffer.

  I think not, said Sir Walter. It does not sound like Georg, at least.

  Shall we investigate? asked Chrétien.

  Pfeffer and I will inspect Fritz’s office, said Sir Walter. Chrétien, I want you close enough to observe Cousin Fritz visually.

  Very well, mon père, replied Chrétien, departing.

  Shall we? Sir Walter asked Pfeffer. The two rose silently through the building’s empty floors, arriving at Fritz’s office on the tenth floor.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fritz turned away from the body on the floor and passed into Georg’s room to ask Georg to investigate the perimeter alarm system, but Georg’s room was empty, except for a note on the boy’s bed.

  Gone to Las Abuelitas to retrieve your cousin. Regards, Georg

  Fritz threw up his hands and then woke up Georg’s computer himself. When he checked the perimeter alarm system, he discovered it had, indeed, been turned off at 5:42 PM. It must have been the guard. It had only been off for what, forty minutes? But still…. Fritz cursed himself for having disposed of Skandor before learning all he could from the boy. This was what happened when one behaved like Helga. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  Questions flew through Fritz’s mind as he re-set the perimeter alarm. With whom had the boy been in league? With Georg? With cousin Waldhart? Fritz felt a sudden panic at the thought of all Georg knew and might have chosen to reveal.

  His eyes returned to the note on the bed.

  He was imagining things. Georg was loyal. The boy practically worshipped him.

  But as he removed his gaze from the empty bed, another fear seized Fritz Gottlieb. It was completely irrational, but Fritz was suddenly possessed with the necessity of knowing his angels were safe. They were his—his—all he had, all he possessed of an army that should have been his to command. He needed to know they were safe.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sir Walter and Pfeffer were greeted by a terrible sight. Lying on the floor of Fritz’s office was a young man, sprawled in an awkward pose that could only mean death.

  Pfeffer came solid and was at the boy’s side.

  Sighing, Sir Walter came solid as well. “Dead?” he asked.

  “No,” said Pfeffer, his voice conveying his surprise. “He has a pulse.”

  “Pfeffer?” said Sir Walter. “You are certain?”

  The boy’s eyes cracked opened. “Epi….” he mumbled.

  “He’s suffering from an allergic reaction of massive proportion,” said Pfeffer. He pointed to the likely culprit: a dish of peanut candy.

  “Pen … security … office … drawer,” muttered the boy.

  “He works security,” said Sir Walter, pointing to the boy’s ID badge. “The office is on the first floor.”

  Pfeffer addressed the boy in clear, calm tones. “Are you saying you keep an Epi-Pen in your desk drawer, in the security office?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Go!” Pfeffer said to Sir Walter.

  Sir Walter disappeared, returning in less than a minute with the life-saving device. Pfeffer plunged it into the boy’s thigh. The boy took a series of slow, dragging breaths and then coughed several times, trying to sit up.

  “Rest … Skandor,” said Pfeffer, after examining the boy’s ID badge. “We’ll take you to safety, but you need to avoid exertion. Do you understand?”

  The boy shook his head. “Katrin. She’s … in danger. Find her!”

  “We’re here to find her and Georg,” said Pfeffer.

  “Good,” said Skandor. He paused and coughed. “Good. Check the rooms across the hall. There are five of them.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Sir Walter. “Fritz Gottlieb is examining the rooms as we speak.”

  “We must take this boy to safety,” Pfeffer said to Sir Walter. “Skandor, we’re going to turn you invisible. It’s something we can do to hide you. We can explain it later—”

  “I used to be … a chameleon,” said Skandor. His breathing was clear now, his speech easier to understand. “Fritz Gottlieb has a formula that takes away the ability, which is how I got stuck here and had to eat peanut M&M’s. It’s a long story.”

  “We must depart,” said Sir Walter. “Chrétien reports Fritz is on the move.”

  “If you hide me invisibly, will I be able to move?” asked Skandor.

  “Regrettably, if your powers have been stolen from you, you will not,” replied Pfeffer. “Let’s go,” he said to Sir Walter.

  “Find Katrin,” the boy pleaded again.

  With that, the three slipped into insubstantiality.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fritz raced out of Georg’s empty room, turning invisible to move more swiftly. Were his angels safe? He passed into the chamber where Leopold lay, and then the fabric of Fritz’s universe sundered, rent in twain by the impossible fact of Leopold’s absence.

  Leopold was gone.

  The horrible scenario repeated itself in each of the rooms.

  Michel was gone.

  Hanna was gone.

  And although he knew it before he checked, a swift examination of Katrin’s bed revealed she was gone as well. Suddenly, the missing antidotes made sense. How many had he kept in the cupboard? Four? Five? The four angels were missing. Missing! It was that security guard. It had to be.

  Fritz came solid to kick at the iron bedstead in Katrin’s room. Too unyielding. He aimed a second kick at the wall, which gave way before the strength of his rage. He kicked at the hole several more times, working himself into a frenzy.

  He would tear the dead boy’s body apart, limb by limb.

  But as he stormed back to revisit his office, Fritz heard something. It took half a second for him to place the sound—it was the perimeter alarm, announcing the passage through the building walls of a caméleon. Fritz’s heart rate doubled, then trebled. He turned invisible. He was safe, safe. That was the important thing. Was it possible the alarm had gone off by mistake? Perhaps he had done something wrong when he re-set it. He wished Georg were here. Someone ought to examine the master program within the security office. He paced invisibly for several seconds, for half a minute. The alarm was still blaring.

  Cursing, Fritz plummeted like a pelican diving for fish: down, down, down from the tenth floor to the first.

  ~ ~ ~

  Skandor lay where he’d been placed—inside the mattress of Georg’s bed. This was not a location he would have chosen for himself, but he had to agree it was probably a very safe
location. Who would look here? Still, it was a bit claustrophobic. Like being kneaded into a great lump of dough and left to rise. The mattress smelled musty, stifling. Skandor tried to focus on something else.

  The problem was, he couldn’t see anything. If Pfeffer and Sir Walter had left his head a few inches higher, his eyes would have cleared the mattress and he would have had sight. Out of long habit, he jiggled his head, struggling to see. It was only after he’d attempted to move that he realized he really shouldn’t be able to move.

  How odd.

  But he had moved. It was undeniable. Movement had happened; now he could see things inside Georg’s room. Could he move … more? He thought about pushing into an upright position and then did it.

  He could move.

  And if he could move, he could search for Katrin. Without another thought as to the how or the why, Skandor sailed forward, seeking Katrin in her room.

  What he found instead was Fritz Gottlieb, pitching a fit of Asgardian proportion. Based on the curses he uttered, Fritz seemed to have come here to find Katrin, too, only she wasn’t here. Skandor considered his options.

  How did you find an invisible girl? He had no idea. She might not even be here; he had told her to go. But maybe, possibly, she had turned visible at some point. If Katrin were in solid form, he might be able to find her on the monitors in the security office. It was a small chance, but it was all he had. Skandor dove down through the floors, a hawk in freefall, Loki descending.

  ~ ~ ~

  Katrin followed on Georg’s heels, racing back to Geneses. Although she couldn’t see Georg, she knew the second Georg pushed through the front of the building, because the alarm began to blare loudly. She hesitated outside for a second, but then reasoned that she couldn’t make things worse: the alarm had already sounded.

  She entered through the ground floor and thought she caught a flicker of motion in the security room. That would be Georg! The alarm stopped—another sign Georg must be in the security room. But by the time she crossed to the office, it was silent and empty.

  Cursing her bad timing, she ghosted back out to the lobby. Should she go upstairs to the holding cell where she’d been imprisoned? That was probably where Georg would go. It might be that her siblings were still there. If she could inoculate one of them—Michel was the largest—then Michel could carry Leopold to safety and she could rescue Hanna.

  Just as she was preparing to leave the lobby, she saw another flash of movement in the security office. Georg, again? She raced forward. But it wasn’t Georg.

  Impossibly, it was Skandor.

  ~ ~ ~

  Skandor was punching the monitor tapes back, looking for any sign of Katrin—or even Georg—in half minute increments. He’d only scrolled through 90 seconds worth of recordings when he heard someone calling his name from the lobby.

  No, it wasn’t just someone, it was her! It was his someone! Katrin stood on the far side of the lobby, no more than a hundred feet away.

  “Katrin!” he called, at a loss for additional words.

  She was running toward him, her face flushed with happiness. “I thought you died,” she called out as Skandor closed the distance between them. “I thought you were dead!”

  Fifty feet, forty feet, thirty.

  And then the unthinkable happened. Between the two of them, Fritz materialized, shouting, Vai a dormire!

  Katrin crumpled, caught by Fritz. Skandor ran straight at Fritz, certain Katrin wouldn’t mind being knocked down in the name of knocking Fritz Gottlieb senseless. But then, holding Katrin with one arm, Fritz drew a gun with the other.

  Skandor didn’t even think about it; automatically, he vanished to safety. The shot rang out, echoing like a thunderclap in the airy lobby. Skandor prepared to come solid and place a chokehold around Fritz’s miserable, skinny neck. But as Skandor reappeared, Fritz disappeared with Katrin in his grasp.

  “No,” cried Skandor. His voice reverberated throughout the lobby. “Come back, coward! Come back and shoot me, why don’t you?”

  But it was useless. Fritz was gone. Katrin was gone.

  He was too late.

  ~ ~ ~

  From the safety of his invisible state within the security office, Georg stared in astonishment at the rapidly unfolding events. He watched as first Skandor and then Katrin and then Uncle Fritz materialized in rapid succession. That Skandor was alive was … unexpected. That he was a caméleon was astounding! But Georg had no more time to contemplate this unexpected revelation: Fritz disappeared with Katrin in his arms. Skandor howled a challenge, inviting Fritz to reappear, but Georg knew Fritz wasn’t coming back. Georg knew exactly what his uncle would be doing right now, because one of the monitors showed his uncle’s helicopter waiting on the roof. Georg took off. It was time for one last performance as the fawning nephew.

  And judging by his uncle’s attempt to shoot the security guard he’d already tried to kill, Georg’s performance needed to be flawless. His uncle wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

  Georg didn’t need forgiveness—he just needed access to Katrin. And whether that meant stealing her now or tailing Fritz invisibly until an opportunity arose to steal her later, Georg would do whatever it took to get Katrin back.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sir Walter heard his cousin’s thoughts a second before Chrétien relayed them.

  Fritz is on his way to the roof—he intends to flee by helicopter, and he has Katrin.

  Sir Walter gave swift orders. Leave Fritz to me. Neither of you are to show yourselves—do you understand?

  Chrétien called out. The boy you told me of—Skandor—is on the move.

  On the move? demanded Sir Walter.

  Yes, he travels invisibly, replied Chrétien.

  Go to the boy, Sir Walter instructed his son. Protect Skandor. I hear Georg as well—do you hear him, Pfeffer?

  Yes, replied Pfeffer. He’s forgotten our advice regarding silence, it would appear.

  Pfeffer, called Sir Walter, find Georg. Keep him from getting himself killed.

  Sir Walter felt the two minds as they pulled away from his. Alone, and with only Fritz to worry about, Sir Walter ascended to the building’s roof.

  ~ ~ ~

  Skandor looked around the lobby. It was empty. It was silent. Where had Fritz taken Katrin? And how was he going to find out? He hurled curses into the air. How did you track someone you couldn’t see? It wasn’t possible. He thought of the monitors again. There were plenty of things Fritz might want to do that would require him to come solid. It felt like grasping at straws, but Skandor had no better ideas. He turned back and ran to the security office, his lungs protesting, his legs aching. He hadn’t felt this bad since he’d contracted the H1N1 flu two years ago.

  He thought about returning to invisibility to make the aches recede, but he wanted the freedom to adjust the monitors. Scanning through the dozen screens, he fiddled with them to cycle more rapidly, his eyes flying from screen to screen to screen.

  And then he saw something. People. On the rooftop. The image disappeared too quickly for Skandor to be sure who it was. He keyed the monitor to return to the roof and stay on that view. He saw Georg, who was speaking with Fritz. Katrin was nowhere in sight.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t on the roof somewhere.

  Skandor cloaked himself and raced back up through the ten floors that separated him from the girl he loved.

  32

  IT’S OVER, COUSIN

  Georg was frightened. More frightened than he’d been in a long time. He had to get Katrin back from his uncle. The long-sought-after passwords meant nothing to him, compared to Katrin. She was suddenly the only thing that mattered, and Fritz Gottlieb had her.

  As Georg materialized on the roof, he thought he saw movement inside the helicopter. It hadn’t started up yet; that was good. But Fritz was wearing his travel coat and gloves; this was bad.

  “Uncle,” he cried. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say next; it all depended on how Fritz responded
to seeing him here, on the roof, when he ought to have been in Las Abuelitas.

  Fritz poked his face out the open door of the helicopter. “Nephew,” he said, and as he said it, a frisson of terror ran through Georg.

  It wasn’t what he said or the way he said it that scared Georg; it was the fact that as Fritz exited the helicopter to speak to Georg, he was holding the Neuroplex dart gun with one of his gloved hands. It was aimed at Georg.

  “Uncle?” He would play this as if he didn’t understand what he was seeing. “Are you … in danger?”

  “Ha!” roared his uncle. “Am I in danger? Let me see….” He examined the dart gun and then grinned at Georg. “No, I don’t think I’m the one in danger at the moment. No thanks to you, boy.” Fritz took several steps, closing the gap between the two of them.

  “What are you talking about, Uncle?” It took all Georg’s will power to remain where he stood, beside the stairwell on one corner of the roof.

  “Don’t play games with me. The security guard was in my office! He stole things from me. The perimeter alarm was disabled. At first, I thought it must have been the work of the guard, but the odd thing is, he couldn’t have had access to the codes to turn the alarm off. Unless someone gave him those codes. It was you!” As Fritz spoke, spittle flew from his mouth. “Do you take me for a fool, boy?”

  Georg hesitated, ready to vanish as soon as Fritz’s gloved hand so much as twitched.

  “No, Uncle,” he said. “I don’t know what you think happened, but I came here to warn you—”

  And then two things happened in rapid succession.

  Waldhart de Rochefort materialized and called to Fritz. “What have you done with Katrin?” His grizzled face shone with righteous indignation; he looked fearless and powerful—everything Uncle Fritz did not look at the moment, even though he was the one with the weapon.

  Georg allowed his eyes to rest on the old French gentleman a second too long, and Fritz fired the dart gun. Georg felt the nip of the dart as it pierced his skin. He tried to vanish, but it was too late. He’d lost this round.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fritz was elated.

  And terrified.

  It was confusing to host two such varied emotional states at the same moment.