“A good … Catholic?”
“Yeah. I’ve been studying with Father Thomas. Chrétien can’t marry me unless I’m Catholic.”
“Huh,” said Sam, trying to sound … supportive.
“Yeah. So no more swearing. And no gluttony, no murdering, no sex before marriage—you get the idea.”
“Wow. That sounds … uh … serious.”
“I know.” Gwyn giggled. “Kind of out of character, huh?”
“No, Gwynnie,” said Sam, kicking a pinecone off the path. “I know that behind all that bluster you’re a very serious person.”
Gwyn sighed softly.
The two paused as a duck kicked off the side of the lake, paddled a few feet, and eyed them with curiosity.
“So, there’s one more thing I have to ask you,” said Gwyn.
Sam looked at Gwyn and offered an encouraging smile.
“You have to promise not to tell Ma.”
“You’re telling me before you’re telling your own mom?”
“No, Sam. I’m telling you and I’m not telling my own mom.”
6
WE FEW, WE CHOSEN FEW
It was time for Georg to begin manufacturing the caméleon serum. He had awakened six Angels. Six had felt like a manageable number, in the end. More, and Georg knew he would feel outnumbered. They sat around the table he had prepared—a round table, to symbolize their equality before him. The Angels had finished the feast Georg had ordered from the restaurant down the road, and now they were looking to him with eagerness, ready to hear of his great plan for humanity.
Georg had no practice delivering inspirational talks, but he’d cobbled one together by grabbing bits from “famous inspiring speeches” off the internet.
“My brothers,” he began, “Today we begin the task for which we trained under Father Helmann.” The Angels, of course, had expected to be awoken at a time of great need, when their medical training would be utilized to the fullest extent. He had decided to present his plan as being only a slight moderation from what Helmann had trained them for, without going into details as to how Helmann had planned to decimate Earth’s population. They were expecting to offer humanitarian aid. He just had to get them revved up and ready to go.
“Humanity has long waited for what we will bring: a future without hunger and war. A future where no man oppresses another. A future where there are no elites controlling the destinies of the less fortunate.
“This future has always hovered out of reach, but no more! I have seen into the future by standing on the shoulders of giants. I have discovered a means whereby all men may be brought into the company of we few, we chosen few, we caméleons. Will you stand with me? Will you help bring forward this brave new dawn? This future where all are equal?”
There wasn’t quite as much “huzzah-ing” as he would have liked, but then, Georg wasn’t addressing tens of thousands. Probably he should’ve dialed it back a bit to address his group of six.
They asked questions, which Georg answered. They inquired about Helmann, Hans, Fritz, Helga, Franz, and Pfeffer. He embroidered the truth slightly when it came to Father Helmann. Helmann was part of a vanished past, and none of the Angels who had not witnessed Helmann’s mad plan would have believed the extent of his depravity in any case.
He did, however, warn them about Pfeffer, their one remaining uncle. “He has sided with Waldhart de Rochefort, an enemy to our fallen father.” Georg told them how Pfeffer and de Rochefort sought to control the Angels and their abilities. This got a few of them riled up, especially when Georg made it personal.
“Our gift belongs to all mankind, but two of our fellow Angels had their gifts stolen by Uncle Pfeffer. Günter and Friedrich were forced to give up their ability or forego the university education they dreamed of.”
The Angels made utterances of disbelief.
“It’s true,” said Georg. “Moreover, Pfeffer turned Günter and Friedrich against me, spreading malicious lies about me.”
An Angel named Raoul stepped forward. “I’ll speak to these brothers. Tell me where to find them. If we’ve got the means to restore their ability, it would be cruel to leave them as they are.”
Georg hadn’t anticipated this response. There was some sense to it, actually, and of course he didn’t want to be seen as cruel. But he knew Günter and Friedrich were on friendly terms with Pfeffer. Or they had been at one time. A slight misgiving prickled along the back of his neck, but after all, Günter and Friedrich were still his siblings. They’d grown up together. Were they now missing their abilities, regretting their poor trade? They might be grateful for what Georg could do, and besides, Pfeffer would never have to know if they didn’t tell.
Katrin would like it if Günter and Friedrich were here; family mattered to her. Perhaps bringing back Günter and Friedrich would be a good compromise, since Georg planned to tell Katrin that Martina was dead.
He looked around at the questioning faces. He needed to instill confidence.
“Your suggestion is an excellent one, Raoul,” said Georg. “I’ll give you instructions for visiting Günter and Friedrich.”
After another two hours of discussion, Georg was at last confident of the support of all six Angels. They were an enthusiastic bunch. But of course, Helmann had seen to that by culling the less willing to serve.
This was going to run so much more smoothly with six extra pairs of hands. Eight, should Günter and Friedrich returned.
Once the others had left, Georg directed Raoul to his office, where he could find an address for Günter and Friedrich.
Raoul, staring at Katrin’s sleeping form asked, “Who is that?”
Georg cursed. He’d forgotten he’d left her visible. He pasted a concerned look on his face. “Ah, yes. This is an Angel who hasn’t been responsive to the wake-up protocol.”
Georg hurried to her side, returning her to her invisible state.
Coming solid again, Georg smiled at Raoul. “Forgive me. It is safer for her to remain without form until such a time as … well, you understand.” He was babbling. He cursed himself for having brought Raoul into his office, his sanctuary. He simply wasn’t used to having anyone around. He drew himself straight and tall.
“Please don’t speak of this to the others. We don’t want to burden them with concerns for their fellow Angels in this condition.”
With that, he located the address of his siblings’ apartment in Nice and took Raoul to the airport, instructing him in the finer points of speaking to Friedrich and Günter without giving them reason to believe Georg didn’t like Uncle Pfeffer, whom they still saw as a sort of benefactor.
Raoul understood. Pfeffer had been the least cruel of their uncles; it was only natural Günter and Friedrich had been willing to trust him now he was the only remaining uncle they had. Raoul promised to be circumspect.
Georg returned to his facility, hidden in a distant and forested region of the remote island he’d chosen to call home. He felt exhausted by all the interactions the day had forced on him. He walked over to where Katrin rested, dying to talk to her, to have her take his hand and tell him everything was going to work out.
He imagined a conversation where she praised him for inspiring the Angels, resting her head against his shoulder, and perhaps even taking his hand, as she’d often done when they were children.
How he missed her. But he didn’t awaken her. The time didn’t feel right. Too much was uncertain.
~ ~ ~
Raoul returned a day later.
“I spoke at length with your brothers, but it was no use. They believe they’re happy as they are.” Raoul’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in slightly. “It occurred to me, they might have been given a post-hypnotic suggestion to create irrational fears of returning to their caméleon state.”
Georg was relieved this was the explanation Raoul provided for himself. “You might be on to something, there,” said Georg. “Given our training to make us responsive subjects of hypnosis, I fear we’re all far to
o susceptible to that sort of tampering.”
Well, at least Georg could tell Katrin he’d tried.
7
A GINORMOUS WASTE OF TIME AND PLANE TICKETS
Sam tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. She’d been having trouble sleeping the whole weekend, ever since Friday night at Camp Midgard when Gwyn had announced her plans to marry Chrétien.
Without so much as informing Bridget Li.
Sam gave her blanket a tug and kneaded her pillow, trying to create a little nest, but it was useless. She was wide awake. After another ten minutes had passed, she gave up and sent Gwyn a text to see if she was awake, too.
Gwyn replied by phone call instead of text. “Hey, Sam! What are you doing awake? Aren’t you strict about lights-out time on school nights? Tomorrow’s Monday, you know.”
“I can’t sleep,” Sam replied. “Listen, Gwyn, I need to talk to you.”
“Um, yup. Kinda what I figured. What’s up?”
Sam took a deep breath. This was probably a really bad idea.
“Are you absolutely sure about … about….” Sam broke off. Was it Chrétien she wanted to ask about, or marriage itself, or something else?
“About my upcoming nuptials?” asked Gwyn. “How can you even ask?”
Sam fought to keep her voice from sounding defensive. “I think it’s a reasonable question.”
“Well, then, yes. I’m sure. You know, Sir Walter doesn’t have a problem with it. And neither does Will, for that matter. Why are you so worried?”
Sam kicked at her covers, delaying her response. At last she sighed and said, “I don’t know, Gwyn. I just think this is … very sudden.”
Gwyn breathed out an exasperated sigh. “Well, yeah, that was kind of the point. Not waiting any longer. Mr.-I-don’t-need-to-enjoy-the-pleasures-of-the-flesh-to-prove-I-love-you is fine waiting until the next century. But I’m not. I wanted to get married last June when I turned eighteen, but Chrétien said I should think about it and make sure I meant it. And now I have thought about it. For months and months. And I meant it.”
“But …” Sam struggled, trying to pin down what had her worried. “Becoming Catholic and everything? Adopting someone else’s beliefs?”
“Oh, I believe in God, Sam. One look at Chrétien—that’s all it took.”
Sam didn’t respond. She tugged at a down feather poking through her pillow.
“That was a joke,” said Gwyn. “Trying to lighten the mood a little here. But, yes, Sam, as a matter of fact, I like what Father Thomas has to say about God. Is that a problem?”
“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Sam freed the feather and tossed it aside.
“No offense taken,” said Gwyn, irritation in her voice. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be in the wedding. If you have … concerns or whatever.”
Gwyn said it was okay, but she sounded hurt.
“I want to be there for you, Gwyn. But I just—” Sam broke off. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk about this anymore. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn’t. She tried shifting the focus of the conversation to something more … manageable. “What about your mom? What is she going to say?”
“Um, nothing,” said Gwyn. “Which is sort of the whole point. I’m eighteen. She can’t do anything to stop me.”
“No,” said Sam, “She can’t. But I really think not telling her is a bad idea.”
“And I really know that telling her would be a worse idea. She’ll get over it.”
Sam shook her head. She didn’t think it was a question of getting over something. “I would never make a major decision like that behind Sylvia’s back.”
Gwyn sighed. “I wish Sylvia was my step-mom. Do you think she’d like to adopt an Asian-Cajun kid?”
Gwyn snorted out a tiny laugh and then continued. “Listen, I would never expect you to keep something like this from your parents. But you guys have a totally different relationship than me and Ma. Believe me, in the end, this is the best way to handle the whole thing with Ma. As a fait accompli.”
“I know I should remember that from French,” said Sam, pulling at another feather.
“It means ‘a done deal.’ Ma gets over things she can’t change pretty fast. It’s one of her best features, actually. But she’ll make my life hell—oops! I’m not supposed to say that. She’ll make my life, uh, heck for me if I tell her ahead of time. And then she’ll bring the aunties up to talk some sense into me, and it would all be a ginormous waste of time and plane tickets because I already know exactly what I want.”
Sam sighed, twirling a newly freed feather between her thumb and forefinger.
Gwyn spoke again. “I’ve known what I wanted ever since the moment that beautiful boy from the seventeenth century walked into Sir Walter’s cottage.”
Sam couldn’t argue that point.
“Anyway, Ma’s too busy to take the time off.”
“Really, Gwyn? Too busy?”
“Sure. Ma’s über-busy training those ripplers Sir Walter rescued from San Francisco. She’s got Hanna selling cookies and coffee to the good citizens of Las Abuelitas. She just hired Hanna full-time. And Leopold and Michel are coming in part-time to clean up, so she has to train them, too.”
“Mm-hmm,” responded Sam, sarcasm in her tone.
“I know what I’m doing, Sam. But I only want you to be my maid of honor if you can support me.”
Sam didn’t say anything. She shouldn’t have called.
Gwyn spoke again. “Okay, so, Sam? What’s the big deal? Are you upset we’re getting married before you and Will?”
“No!” That was definitely not what Sam was upset over.
“Well, then, what is it? You’ve had almost nothing positive to say on the topic. You haven’t once asked about my ring or my dress or anything.”
“Getting married is serious. It’s not all about a dress and a cake—”
“Sam, please. I know this. You know I know this. So, what’s this about?”
The two were silent for a minute. Sam wondered if maybe Gwyn had hung up on her.
“Seriously, Sam, I thought you’d be happy for me. For us both.”
“I’m sorry,” murmured Sam. “It’s just … there was this thing Sylvia used to say all the time—”
“Don’t ride the clutch?” Gwyn asked, deadpan.
Sam sighed. “No. Not that. Sylvia used to say, ‘Don’t make the mistake I made, marrying when you’re young and stupid.’”
“Used to say?” asked Gwyn.
“Well, I haven’t heard her say it for awhile….”
“Like, for two years? Since you started dating Will? Because she recognizes you and Will are perfect for each other and decided she could retire that particular saying?”
Sam frowned. It was true Sylvia hadn’t said it in ages. Maybe it had been two years.
“Seriously, Sam, you and I both know what Sylvia was talking about, and it has nothing to do with you and Will or me and Chrétien. Syl’s ex landed her in the hospital. Do you really think that’s going to happen to Chrétien and me?”
“No,” admitted Sam.
But then she thought about Syl’s response when she’d asked her step mother why she’d married someone like that.
I thought we were in love, Sylvia had said.
But Sam couldn’t tell Gwyn that maybe she and Chrétien were wrong about being in love. Gwyn would laugh. Or shout at her. The entire phone call had been a huge mistake.
“Listen, Sam. I know you’re worried. I don’t understand why, and I don’t for one minute believe this is about keeping me away from Chrétien lest he turn into a wife-beater, but … Sam, how do I say this? Life is about taking risks, you know?”
Sam inhaled sharply. “Taking risks? How can you even say something like that?”
Life was not about taking risks. It was about eliminating them. As much as possible. As thoroughly as possible.
“Yes. Taking risks. I know there are risks involved in getting married.
And I’m fine with that. I’m great with it. Marrying Chrétien is a risk I am only too happy to take.”
Sam felt her chest tightening.
“You know what?” said Gwyn. “It’s late and we’re both a little emotional right now. I love you, Sam. You know that, right? You’re making me a little crazy right now, but your friendship matters to me. And I hope that when you’ve had a little time to think things over, you’ll agree that there are some things you just have to do. Even if they might involve some risk.”
Sam didn’t say anything. She was afraid she’d start crying if she tried to speak.
“Okay,” said Gwyn. “So you go ahead and be mad at me or whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“Okay,” whispered Sam.
“Bye.”
The call ended, and Sam set her phone down and bathed in the post-Gwyn quiet.
There was no way she was sleeping now. Not with the thoughts that were filling her head.
Life was about taking risks? Was Gwyn crazy?
Sam needed a run. She really needed a run. Sometimes she ran to think, but tonight she needed to run to get away from the thoughts that were pressing down, weighing on her lungs, threatening to cut off her breath.
If she went invisibly, she wouldn’t have to fuss with changing clothes and stretching. And the tightness in her chest would vanish, too.
She knew she was avoiding reality, but Sam didn’t think she could take any more reality right now. She rippled, left her house, and took off down the road. She made it all the way into town without even noticing the city limit sign, which concerned her a little. To prevent herself from ending up somewhere miles out of town, Sam crossed over to the high school track.
She flew around the first lap, her mind buzzing.
Her best friend was getting married. Married.
Lap number two complete. Sam didn’t remember it at all.
Gwyn was getting married.
Gwyn thought Sam would want the same thing. But all Sam could think of was how different she and Gwyn were. Gwyn had said it: It’s a risk I’m willing to take.
Sam knew if she were solid, her heart would be pounding at the thought. There was a reason they were called risks: because they were … risky. Sam had had enough of risk and danger and uncertainty and peril to last her a lifetime. Several lifetimes.
Perilous: A Ripple Novel (Ripple Series Book 7) Page 3
