Giving a tug, she eased it off her finger. Her hand felt naked without it. She put it back on. And then she stood tall and took a deep breath.
She would put it in the box with her mother’s rings. The ones that had survived the fire. Yes, that would be a good place for it, nestled in with her other memories. It was fitting.
“Right, Mom?” she murmured. “Some place safe where I can always remember what I had.” Her voice choked as she spoke the words. She should never, never have let Will run off like that at Sir Walter’s. Maybe she hadn’t been ready to talk marriage, but she sure as heck hadn’t been ready to break up. She felt a familiar tightening in her chest.
Will.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
She took several slow breaths and repeated her words, making of them a sort of farewell.
“I don’t know what to do.”
She missed him so badly. It was like she’d carved a piece of her soul loose. A piece she wanted to put back. But you couldn’t always put things back, no matter how badly you missed them. She knew that better than most people.
Now that she was standing, the violets beside the grave appeared small and weak beside their winter-dead surrounding. Looking away from the tiny blooms, Sam gave a sharp tug and pulled off her ring. It flew out of her hand, spinning skyward, shining in the morning light and then tumbling back to the ground. She couldn’t figure out where it had landed.
“Oh, no,” she murmured. She squatted back down, looking for it.
She spent twenty minutes trying to find the twist of silver. But it was no use. The ring was gone. Like Will.
Gone and not coming back.
17
VAPORS AND MISTS
Will raced invisibly toward Midgard Adventure! Camp to spend the evening in the company of Skandor and Sir Walter. He’d been doing that a lot lately, in spite of the inconvenience of having Sir Walter so far away. Will wondered if Sir Walter had considered that when he’d moved out of the house now shared by Chrétien and Gwyn de Rochefort.
In fairness, the old gentleman had probably given the distance and the inconvenience a great deal of thought. He’d also, most likely, put some thought into how far Midgard was from a certain owner of a certain bakery. Will had only heard second hand how Bridget was taking the elopement of her daughter. It sounded pretty bad. Customers had overheard shouting matches coming from the kitchen. Something had broken. Possibly glass.
Gwyn seemed happy enough, though, based on her demeanor in the one class Will had with her: French. It used to be his favorite class of the day because it was the only one he’d shared with Sam. He’d hated how the seat assignments (alphabetical, by last name) meant he was as far removed from Sam as possible. Now this was something for which he was grateful. It was hard enough seeing her around campus. Sitting next to her? No. He didn’t need that. His heart still skipped beats just catching a glimpse of her dark ponytail as she rounded a corner ahead of him. She’d broken his heart; there was no other way to put it.
It had been a relief to have Sir Walter’s little project: Where in the World is Georg? It was a distraction, at least. Will had discovered that there were dozens of places that still had laurisilva forests. So far, Will had ruled out over half of them. Earlier in the afternoon, he’d been on the brink of a discovery when his computer finally, ignobly died. Mick had taken her computer to work with Pfeffer. In the past, Will would have run over to Sam’s to use one of the Ruiz’s computers. Yeah, well, that was in the past.
Which was why he was on his way to Sir Walter’s new dwelling at Midgard.
It was a beautiful day for a run. The first warm day of March, and even though he was invisible, Will almost felt the sun as it pierced through the canopy of fir and pine. He was nearly there; the formidable mountain where Midgard perched lay in full view now. Will kicked up into the air and made a game of leaping or flying from tree top to tree top, bounding up the mountain.
Which took him back to the reason for his visit today.
There had been something in one of the frames of video sent by Raoul: a mountain. Up until this point, Will had completely ignored the mountain. Well, not so much “completely ignored” as “completely failed to notice.” The mountain, if it was a mountain, was far in the distance, and Will had been focused on identifying flora in the foreground. It had only recently occurred to him that maybe he ought to broaden his search to include things seen in the distance.
Eager to zoom in on the mountain in the video, Will felt like the journey to Midgard would never end. At least he had plenty of free time. Too much free time. He wasn’t looking forward to Spring Break, coming in less than a week. Teachers were too lenient with seniors, and as a consequence, Will didn’t even have the fallback of homework to look forward to. No, it was going to be five long, dull days. Well, nine, actually if you counted the weekends.
Will arrived at Midgard on this gloomy note. He should just move in with Sir Walter and Skandor. Heaven knew he could use friends these days. Gwyn just hugged him and shook her head sadly. Sam avoided him completely. Maybe he should’ve taken her texts those first awful days after they’d broken up. But he hadn’t been able to face hearing her voice, or even seeing her words in written form. He’d deleted the texts, just like he was fighting to delete the past two and a half years of being in love with her.
The fight wasn’t going well.
Will came solid beside Sir Walter’s cabin and knocked on the front door. He hoped Sir Walter was home. He hadn’t checked to make sure. But then he heard the door handle rattling and a moment later he found himself being welcomed with open arms into the cozy cabin the old gentleman currently called home.
“I’ve been invisible for days,” said Sir Walter. “Your timing is impeccable. I need to put a good meal inside. What say you to crêpes au fromage et jambon?”
“Ham and cheese crepes?” Will nodded vigorously. “Heck, yeah! I say, what can I do to help?”
Soon, the two of them were preparing the light supper together, Will having completely forgotten why he’d come, in his happiness at having someone with whom he could converse, laugh, and cook. But then Sir Walter broached the subject.
“So, what brings you all this long way from Las Abuelitas?”
“Oh, man—I can’t believe it slipped my mind,” said Will. “I need to borrow a computer. Mine bit the dust. It’s been on the blink for weeks now.”
“Indeed?” inquired the elderly gentleman.
“Yeah. Mick says she’ll get me a new one, but I’d rather we saved the money for fall. I’ll need books and stuff.”
“I have recently upgraded my own system,” said Sir Walter. “I wonder if you would like to borrow my old tablet, shall we say, indefinitely?”
Will knew that if his sister was here, she’d glower at him for “accepting charity.” And lately, he’d started coming round to her point of view, because he recognized he and Sam would need to make it independently or their marriage wouldn’t mean much. Well, they weren’t getting married now, that was for sure. So maybe he could rethink that attitude about “accepting charity.”
“You know what? That would be great,” said Will.
“Consider it yours,” said Sir Walter. “Just as soon as we have dined, that is.”
Will, having been reminded of his reason for coming, frowned. Dinner with Sir Walter was a protracted affair with even a simple meal such as the one they were preparing tonight.
“Hey, I wonder if maybe we could take a quick look at that video from Raoul before we assemble the crepes?” asked Will.
“But of course,” said Sir Walter.
The two huddled together over the tablet, and Will brought up the video, cueing it to the point that had caught his interest.
“What do you make of that?” he asked Sir Walter, pointing to an object in the background. “Could it be a mountain?”
Sir Walter leaned forward to get a better view. He used his forefinger and thumb to stretch the image.<
br />
“It’s no good,” said Will, sighing heavily. “The resolution’s not good enough. Or the screen’s too small. Or both.”
Sir Walter smiled. “And now you see why I found it necessary to make my newest acquisition.”
He pointed to a small half-wall that separated the dining area from the back of the cabin. Then he rose. “Come with me,” he said to Will.
On the far side of the wall, Sir Walter had placed a tiny desk upon which sat a very large screen.
“Whoa,” said Will. “I’ve only seen ads for these mega screens. This is amazing.”
“Moreover, I believe it will make the image easier to investigate.”
It took a few minutes to load the video and to find the right place, but the larger image left no doubt in Will’s mind.
“That looks like a volcano to me,” he said to Sir Walter. “How many of the laurisilva forests we’re investigating are close to a volcano?”
Sir Walter turned back to his tablet and ran a quick series of searches.
“The Canary Islands and the Madeira Islands are both volcanic.”
“And they have laurisilva forests,” said Will. “They’re still on our short-list.”
“Here is an image of the largest volcano on the Canary Islands,” said Sir Walter.
Will leaned down to peer at it. “That’s it,” he said softly. “That’s our volcano. Look at the video and see what I mean.”
Sir Walter looked and agreed. “So,” he said softly. “We know where Georg is hiding. On the island of Tenerife, home to Mount Teide, the third highest island volcano in the world.”
Will turned to Sir Walter, his eyes huge. “This is it.”
Sir Walter stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Of course, it would be more accurate to say we know where Georg was three weeks ago.”
“Well, yeah, but Raoul said he was stocking up on groceries—that’s why he was driving that rental van. Think about it. It makes sense. Georg retreats to the Mercedes Forest—that’s the name of the ancient forest on Tenerife—and he’s sealed off from the rest of the world. It’s the perfect place to hide out. Who even goes to the Canary Islands?”
Sir Walter shrugged. “Mostly tourists,” he said, taking the question literally. And it is quite heavily inhabited, in places.”
“Well, sure, but….”
“You are right to say the Mercedes Forest would be a good hiding place, however. The narrow winding roads alone would prevent most from traveling there unless they had to. And it is shrouded often in vapors and mists. Yes, such a place might well appeal to Georg.”
Will crossed his arms over his chest and grinned.
“We must inform Skandor,” said Sir Walter, rising.
He left the cabin, returning a few minutes later with Skandor, who had just finished dinner.
“You found Georg?” Skandor asked as soon as the front door was open.
“Well, yeah, I think I found where he’s hiding,” replied Will
“You are my hero, man. My freaking hero!” said Skandor. He reached out a hand like he wanted to shake hands. Then he changed his mind and he went for a hug instead. “I can’t believe it. When do we leave?”
18
BUT IT WOULDN’T CHANGE THINGS
Georg knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. A little over a year. But how was he supposed to have prevented Katrin from discovering this on her own? It was a problem he’d wrestled with ever since he’d decided to leave her slumbering.
But he had needed her. He’d been too lonely to continue without her at his side.
“I did it to protect you,” said Georg, taking a chocolate covered biscuit from the platter. He didn’t eat it. He just held it by the edges, trying to keep the chocolate from melting on his thumb and forefinger.
“Protect me from what?” demanded Katrin.
She really wasn’t taking this well.
“I wished to be sure my Great Work would succeed before I woke you, my dear Katrin. I had no wish to involve you in the day to day drudgery of our efforts. I thought you would be pleased I spared you, that I have awoken you only now, when I am on the brink of … Well, I’m sorry if my reasons displease you, but I wished to spare you, dear sister.”
“Georg, I’m not a … a baby.” Her eyes flashed fire. “If you needed help, you could have woken me up.”
“Well I didn’t,” snapped Georg. The cookie broke in half.
Katrin pulled back. Just a few centimeters, but enough to indicate she didn’t appreciate his tone. He regretted it as well. This was not the way to bring Katrin around to his side.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I did what I thought was best. I did what I thought was kindest. If you don’t see it that way, I can only offer my apologies.”
Katrin exhaled noisily, but she didn’t reprimand him further.
“This is my room, I take it?” she asked, surveying it with the regal air of a pharaoh.
Georg frowned. This was his room. His office. Before awakening Katrin, he’d hidden any number of filing boxes here, taking them into invisibility so it would look like she had a room of her own. It hadn’t occurred to him she would become … possessive.
Well, he could always explain later. It wasn’t like she could turn invisible and start investigating what he had hidden in here. Later, when she was in a better mood, he would explain that he needed private office space and that she would have to live in the dormitory like everyone else.
“I’d like some privacy,” Katrin said.
“Very well,” said Georg, tight-lipped. He rose, disappointed. This was not the reception he had imagined. He glanced at Katrin’s red lips, then swiftly looked elsewhere. This was not the time to examine … whatever he felt for his half-sister.
He turned to go.
“Wait,” said Katrin.
Ah, was she softening after all? He turned, an expression of kindness pasted on his face.
“Has my enzymatic treatment worn off? Or did you store me … invisibly?”
Ah, thought Georg. She wanted to know whether or not she was healthy.
“I kept you invisible, of course,” said Georg. “I’m not cruel, Katrin. I didn’t want you to awaken to atrophied muscles and bedsores.” He hesitated before making his next generous offer—the one he’d known he would have to make. “I can restore your ability to vanish,” he said softly.
Katrin raised a single arched brow before curtly replying, “I wish only to be left alone at present.”
He was being dismissed. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. The brusqueness of her dismissal distracted him from her odd lack of interest in regaining her abilities. He struggled to maintain a calm demeanor. “Until later,” he said, exiting the room.
~ ~ ~
Katrin took in a long, slow breath once Georg had left her alone. She could feel her throat swelling again, eager for the release of tears, but she needed to think clearly right now. There would be time for tears—for raw, ugly crying—later. She rose and paced the length of the room: back and forth, back and forth. She supposed she should be grateful for having a room to herself. A glance out the small window over the table revealed only a small compound.
Compound.
It was the first description that had come to mind. It was as good as any, she supposed. She was on an island where she’d been held in stasis—she would not call it “held prisoner”—and she had no money, no friends but Georg, no idea what had been happening in the world for the past year. Yes, compound was a fitting name for her current living situation.
In spite of Georg’s insistence he’d taken good care of her body, keeping it in a static state, Katrin felt tired and a bit ache-y. She supposed that could be blamed on the things she’d been doing earlier in the day. She made a mental correction: not earlier in the day, but over a year ago.
She looked outside again. It had been October when she’d last been … awake. What time of year was it now? November? December? Georg had sa
id she’d been sleeping for “over a year.” She should have asked for something more specific. But the shock of it had taken her breath away. Over a year. Lost. Just like that. It was exactly what had happened when Helmann had placed them all in stasis and left them for a year before awakening them to wreak vengeance on mankind.
So, if her limbs were tired, it would pass after a good night’s rest, a decent meal or two. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She remembered thinking about eating the candy on Fritz’s desk—peanut M&M’s.
The memory of Skandor, lying with chocolate smeared on his mouth hit her like a blow to the gut. Her hands flew to her mouth. Skandor had told her he was deathly allergic to peanuts. It would have been in character for Fritz to force Skandor to eat the nut-filled candy as a sort of slow torture. Skandor’s peanut allergy would have been documented when he’d filled out forms for his internship.
Katrin felt raw hatred for her uncle swelling inside. She was glad he was dead. She hoped he’d been terrified as he hurtled off the roof.
But Skandor….
Had he been terrified? He must have been. It would have been fast—ten floors wasn’t very far, although it was far enough to result in certain death. She hoped he’d been too distracted to notice. She hoped he hadn’t been afraid. She hoped he’d been thinking of her kisses.
Tears flooded her eyes, spilled over her lids. She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
She would not cry now.
What had she been staring out the window for, again? Oh, yes. To discover the season. But it didn’t look like any season in particular outside. She touched the glass. It was warm. It might be spring and not winter. Of course, the Canary Islands were located close enough to the equator that seasons might be less extreme here.
It could be any time of year.
Katrin sighed and sat at the small table. She picked up her cup of chamomile tea, now gone cold. She lifted it to her lips, wondering momentarily if Georg would have put anything dangerous in it—something to knock her out.
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