Keeper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  Well, she couldn’t sit around and wait until her antennae grew. She had to get out of here before someone found out what was happening, and she ended up in a research lab like some rare mutant insect. Hiding was her only option. She had to find Greg. After she morphed, she would . . . she would what? No one would recognize her. James and Rose would think she’d gone missing.

  Without showering or even brushing her teeth, she left the bathroom. Robe wrapped tightly around her, Sam tiptoed across the hall. Only Wassily noticed her and tried to lick her ankles as she passed by. “Good doggie.” She held a hand in front of his face to stop him from entering her bedroom. She donned a pair of faded jeans, a white top, and a pair of black leather flats. Once she was ready, she tried to sneak through the front door, but Rose caught her.

  “What about breakfast?” she asked.

  “Not hungry.” Sam looked up only for a brief instant and continued her escape plan.

  She was halfway out the door when Rose appeared and grabbed her arm. “Sam,” she said in a tone that seemed to say, “You don’t fool me.” Sam turned reluctantly. Rose examined her face, pursing her lips, then released her arm. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine.” Her answer was rushed and unconvincing.

  “You don’t look well at all. I think you should stay home.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Feeling any . . . nausea?” Rose asked, raising one eyebrow.

  It took Sam a few seconds to realize what Rose was actually asking. “Oh God, no,” she said horrified, once Rose’s meaning became clear. “I’ve never even . . . forget it.”

  She had just recently kissed a boy for the first time in her life, and that had been complicated enough. Going further had certainly been an option, but luckily, Greg was a gentleman. If he wasn’t, she’d have had a nervous breakdown by now. Her conflicting emotions toward Ashby combined with the stress of taking that step would have been too much to bear.

  “You know you can trust me, right?” Rose added with more maternal love in her voice than Barbara had ever mustered in all Sam’s life.

  “I know. It’s nothing like that. I just didn’t sleep well, and . . . maybe I caught a virus that’s been making its rounds at school. I’ll sign out of class if I don’t feel well later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Feeling the nausea that she had so adamantly denied, Sam made it to school in Rose’s car. As soon as she parked, she spotted Greg waiting for her. He looked anxious, and hurried to open her door.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked as Sam stepped out. “Oh,” Greg exclaimed as soon as he took a good look at her. “I sensed something was up, but I didn’t think . . .”

  She pulled her hair and shirt to one side to show him her neck. Greg understood her silent question.

  He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, it’s starting.”

  Sam swallowed. “What do we do? How long do we have? What do we tell everyone?” She had a million questions, things she should have been discussing with Greg all along, instead of pretending it would all go away.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it. We have a few choices. We could tell Rose and James what’s happening and—”

  “Are you crazy?!” Sam interrupted. “I can’t tell them. They won’t understand. They’ll . . . they’ll flip out and send me to a military research facility or something. No, no way.”

  “Okay, we could drive to my parents’ house in New Orleans. They wouldn’t freak out or hand you to the government,” Greg joked with a meek smile.

  “What do we tell Rose and James?”

  “Nothing,” Greg said.

  “You mean just run away?”

  “Yes. I seriously doubt they’d let you go on a road trip with me. I can call them and at least tell them you’re all right. Unless you can think of some excuse that would convince them to let you go.”

  They would probably lock her up if she even hinted at it. She shook her head hopelessly. “If we just run away, they’ll look for us, Greg. Your parents will be the first ones they’ll ask.”

  “They would lie, of course. They can say they haven’t seen us.”

  “I don’t know, Greg. What if we get them in trouble? Kidnapping is a federal crime. Have you thought about that?”

  He nodded. “All I know is they’d take that risk for us. They’d help us no matter what.”

  “No. It’s too much to ask of them. What else can we do?” Sam felt a sudden twist in her gut that almost dropped her to the pavement. Sweat ran down her neck, and her eyelids felt as if they’d been glued to her eyeballs.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  Sam coughed. “What if we find a hotel somewhere and crash there until it’s over?

  “I doubt anyone would rent us a room . . . being minors and all.”

  “What about hiding in your car?” Sam’s desperation mounted.

  “For two weeks? With our faces plastered all over the news? No. Someone could spot us. I can’t take that risk. Not with you being in such a . . . vulnerable state.”

  Sam grabbed her head and squeezed. The pounding made it hard to concentrate, but even through the haze she could see none of the options were solid.

  “It’s no good,” she moaned. “Even if we pull it off, what will we do afterward? I’ll be . . . unrecognizable . . . right?”

  “There’s another option,” a voice said behind them.

  Sam peered over Greg’s shoulder. Ashby stood there, looking calm and collected. Her gaze snapped back to Greg, who was standing close enough to reveal the sunburst patterns in his blue eyes. He blinked slowly and looked down in defeat. It was as if he’d been expecting this.

  “We don’t need your help, Ashby,” Sam said in a scratchy voice. She leaned forward and took Greg’s hand for support.

  Ashby pursed his lips and stuffed a hand in his pocket. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn me down. There are no risks in my option. No one will look for you, and no one will question why you’ve changed so much, once it’s over.” He coolly took a few steps forward and sat on the hood of Sam’s car.

  “You’re lying,” Sam said, but she wasn’t so sure.

  “Am I?” Ashby asked, almost indifferently. He looked up at the sky and inhaled as if enjoying the morning. The school bell rang, announcing their first class. He looked back and examined Sam’s face, black eyes sparkling with something like victory. “Your transformation is imminent. I can tell.” Ashby’s tone switched into a caring, gentle one. “You don’t have very long before it starts, Sam. You shouldn’t even be here. Please, let me help you.”

  “Greg?” Sam searched his gaze, but there was only pain there—not the answer she was hoping for.

  “Tell her, Greg. You’re doing her a disservice—always seems that way, as a matter of fact.”

  A chill traveled like a wave from Sam’s head down to her toes, making her every bone and muscle ache, like she was at the brink of shattering into a billion pieces. She staggered, but Greg held her steady.

  “We’ll figure something out on our own.” Sam squeezed Greg’s hand weakly. Standing firm, physically and mentally, took every drop of resolve she had, but she’d made her decision. “Let’s go.” She tugged Greg’s hand, but he didn’t budge. “What’s wrong?” She didn’t need him making things any harder for her.

  “I think we should . . . listen to his offer,” Greg mumbled.

  “What?!” Sam couldn’t believe it.

  He blinked his eyes closed as the painful words came out. “I don’t know how to keep you safe, Sam.” His voice was hoarse. He was giving her up, letting her go for her own sake.

  “Greg!” She threw her arms around his neck, nearly losing her balance in the process. He hugged her, holding her up against his hard, heaving chest.

  He was being selfless, entirely pure. He loved her. Of his own free will, against his Morphid nature. Not because of a sick obligation he couldn’t overcome. What if she wasn’t able to do the
same once she morphed? The thought was searing, like a hot poker to her heart.

  Sam was dimly aware of Ashby sliding off the car, but she couldn’t care less. Why didn’t he just go away? She held Greg tighter and shut the rest of the world out.

  Greg’s warm breath brushed her ear as he begged, “It’s for the best.”

  She shook her feverish head, cheek brushing against the cool skin of Greg’s neck.

  “No,” she whimpered. This couldn’t be the end of the immense passion brimming inside her chest. She didn’t want to let it go. She couldn’t.

  Greg gently grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed away, pain in his wavering eyes. “You have to.”

  Sam shook her head more vigorously now, causing her vision to blur and ears to ring. Her temples were pounding.

  “If you . . . if you feel the same way I . . .” He couldn’t finish. “Do it for me, please.” His voice was but a whisper.

  “It’s not fair.”

  “I know.” It was least fair for Greg.

  “I—I can’t.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, cool against her flushed skin.

  Greg smiled weakly and cupped her face in his big hands, running both thumbs across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. Suddenly, the tender look in his eyes changed to one of panic.

  “You’re burning up,” he said, noticing for the first time.

  He turned his searching eyes in Ashby’s direction, but he wasn’t there anymore. “Where did he go?”

  Greg looked around, eyes frantic. “Hey!” he yelled when he spotted Ashby walking away. “Wait here. We’ll go to my place, and we’ll hear his idea.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Greg ran, calling out Ashby’s name. When he reached him, Ashby ignored him and kept walking. Sam watched from a distance, feeling worse by the second. Greg put a hand on Ashby’s shoulders and tried to stop him. Ashby turned abruptly, placed both hands on Greg’s chest and shoved hard. Greg stumbled backward, at the same time that another wave of nausea hit Sam in the pit of her stomach. She choked, bile rising to her mouth.

  Through hazy eyes, she saw Greg and Ashby arguing. She wanted to call out for them to stop, but her voice was gone. Unsteadily, she turned around and slumped against the car, head swimming. The sky overhead, or actually the whole world, lost its color. Everything went very pale, then gray, and finally dark. She knew she was still standing, and not falling through a black hole, because she could feel herself wobbling and knew the pitted surface of the asphalt under her feet was waiting to smash her face.

  “Greg,” she managed in a choppy breath. Then the ground rushed up to meet her. Or maybe it was the other way around.

  Chapter 30 - Greg

  In a flash, Greg was there and caught Sam before she hit the ground. He cradled her neck in the crook of his arm and caressed her face.

  “Sam, Sam!” His first instinct was to pull out his cell phone to call 911, but that wasn’t an option. Looking around desperately, he found Ashby standing behind him. He didn’t look worried at all. Quite the contrary. He seemed to be almost salivating, a grin stretched from ear to ear like a kid waiting for his favorite cookies to finish baking.

  Without letting go of Sam, Greg pulled the car keys out of her pants pocket. He craned his neck to peek over the hood and make sure no one had noticed her fainting.

  “Here, drive,” Greg said.

  Ashby looked at the keys as if they were a Chinese puzzle. “I, uh . . .”

  Greg grew impatient. “Okay, open the back door then.”

  “You’d better start the car. Someone’s coming,” Ashby said, quickly opening the door.

  “Take her!” Greg let Ashby slide an arm under her limp neck.

  They exchanged a quick, hostile stare, then Ashby lifted Sam into the back seat, while Greg got behind the wheel. He cranked the engine and spared a backward glance. Ashby had laid Sam across the seat, her head resting on his lap. He gently brushed away matted hair from her forehead. Jealousy ripped at Greg’s soul, but there was no time for that. They had to get away.

  Greg shifted into gear and looked around, wondering who had spotted them, but no one was in sight. He clenched the wheel, making the leather creak, and shot an accusing glance into the rearview mirror. Ashby smirked. White-knuckled hands turned the wheel and drove them out of there.

  When they arrived at Greg’s place, they managed to unload Sam without being seen.

  “Which way?” Ashby asked as they walked into the empty living room. He cradled Sam in his arms as he would a treasure.

  Greg slammed the front door shut and ran ahead of Ashby. “Over here.” He led them into his bedroom. “Lay her on the bed. I’ll call my mom.”

  “Fine . . . if you never intend to lie on it again,” Ashby mumbled.

  Greg fumed. Did Ashby think he gave a damn about the stupid bed? He dialed his mom’s cell phone, and it began to ring. If he didn’t like Ashby’s plan, he’d drive Sam to New Orleans. He couldn’t risk anyone finding them here. It would be the first place they’d look, once they realized they were both missing.

  “Is everything all right?” Mom asked without saying hello. It was unusual for him to call during school hours.

  “Mom, she’s morphing . . .”

  “And what’s your mum going to do?” Ashby added sarcastically. “Stop it?”

  Greg seethed silently as Ashby sat next to Sam and held her hand. “We brought her to my place.”

  “We? Who’s we?” Mom asked.

  “Ashby’s here.”

  “Oh.” Greg had told his parents about Ashby, and although he hadn’t mentioned anything about his feelings for Sam, they had at least figured he hated Ashby.

  “Mom would it—” Ashby had his hands on Sam. “Hey! What are you doing?”

  Ashby didn’t flinch and continued unbuttoning Sam’s delicate white top. “We have to undress her.” Ashby rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t touch her, you perv!” He felt a burning indignation rising from his neck up to his face.

  “Greg, what’s the matter? What’s going on?” Mom asked.

  “Mom, I just want to ask you something. If I can’t figure out a way to keep her safe, can I bring her to New Orleans?”

  Ashby’s hands stopped on the second button, turning disapproving eyes on Greg.

  “Of course you can, honey. You didn’t even have to ask. We’d do anything for you.”

  “Thank you, Mom. I have to go now, but I’ll call you later.” He hung up.

  Ashby turned his attention to Sam’s shirt once more.

  “Stop right there.” Greg pulled Ashby away from Sam.

  Yes, they needed to undress her, maybe put her in the tub—morphing was a messy business, not that he knew from experience—but they weren’t doing any of that until Ashby explained his plan.

  “What’s your plan?” Greg demanded.

  “Oh, yes. The plan. Like I said, it will be easy. Perry will take care of everything.”

  “Who?”

  “Perry, my . . . friend. You met him,” Ashby said the last sentence with some difficulty.

  Greg wondered why Ashby had hesitated on the term friend. Suspicion rose in him, and his first thought was of Veridan. Was that who he was referring to? Then, noticing Ashby’s chagrined expression, Greg remembered the other guy on the day of his would-be first kiss with Sam.

  “Oh, the guy that was with you the day of your executive board meeting.”

  Ashby’s upper lip curled up, making the comment worthwhile. He didn’t respond.

  Bring it on, thought Greg. Sam wasn’t here to save him from a beating. After a moment, Ashby exhaled and simply left the room. Greg followed him out.

  “So what about this friend?” Greg’s patience was dissolving quickly. “What’s he going to do?”

  Ashby faced him again. “Perry can prepare an incantation for Sam’s family. They’ll simply forget about her until he casts a counter spell.”

  For a moment, Greg wanted to laugh, but Ashby appeared quite serious
. Greg cleared his throat. “Is that possible?” He had to admit, he had no idea what a Morphid sorcerer could do.

  “Quite so. None of the humans in her life wear protective charms, so there’s nothing to stop Perry’s magic. How do you think I was able to become a student here? Who needs transfer papers when you can use magic to alter people’s minds?”

  Greg scowled as he considered the lack of scruples it would take to mess with somebody’s brain. He wondered, not for the first time, who Ashby really was. From what Greg’s parents had told him about Sorcerers, most of them stuck to themselves and rendered their magical services only for a high price. Greg had no doubt Ashby had the money to afford paying someone to do his dirty work, but the way he’d said friend seemed to indicate some deeper secret. He pushed these thoughts aside and concentrated on the priority: Sam.

  “Could he make her dad call the school to tell them Sam has the measles, or is on a family trip or something?” Greg didn’t want Sam to miss the school year for truancy. She would be very upset if she had to delay going to culinary school one more year.

  “Sure.”

  “Good. And when it’s all over, he can . . . cast another spell so people can recognize her?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Can he put a spell on the whole school?”

  “What for?”

  “For when she goes back.” You idiot!

  Ashby laughed a weak little laugh and looked at Greg with irritating condescension. “She won’t need to go back. She’ll come with me then.”

  “That’s a huge assumption you’re making.”

  “Is it?” His smile grew wider and more satisfied.

  Greg felt his whole body quake on the spot. He wanted to erase the little bastard’s self-assured grin. He wanted to punch him until the brat’s ears bled. But the jerk was right. If Sam’s metamorphosis went off without a hitch, she would do just what Ashby had said. He, himself, had gotten out of New Orleans like a madman to find his Integral, hadn’t he? Of course, Sam would follow hers, whether she wanted to or not. And if she left . . . what would he do?