Greg’s legs and feet shifted to a ready-to-spring position. Sam was the only one who seemed to keep her cool.
“I guess that means you do know,” she said.
“Every Morphid knows,” Mateo said through barely moving lips. “We just don’t talk about it. It’s like . . . Greek gods. We know who they are, but few of us have any use for them.”
“Yes. I see what you mean.” Sam nodded. “They’re real, though. Vinculums, I mean, not Greek gods. Though they might be real, too. You never know.” She smiled, a sweet, genuine gesture.
Greg watched her closely. She seemed more relaxed, confident, as if she knew exactly what to do, what was needed.
“And you’re saying your caste makes you sure vinculums are real?” Mateo asked.
In response, Sam briefly squinted above Mateo’s head.
Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and sent his chair crashing against the wall. Greg sprang up, too, his right hand extended over the desk, sparks crackling from his fingers. Mateo’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Greg’s magic. He froze and seemed to weigh his options.
“If you try to hurt her, I will kill you,” Greg said.
The man’s hostility had swelled and almost spilled into violence in an instant, sending Greg’s instincts from quiet to flashing red just as quickly.
Mateo was scared of Sam. It appeared he hadn’t liked her narrowed gaze one bit.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, sounding puzzled. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just wanted to see and point out that you don’t have one. A vinculum. You’re a Singular.”
Mateo ran a hand over his mouth and let out a pent up breath. He pushed his chair under the desk and stood behind it. If he wasn’t going to sit again, Greg wouldn’t either—even if the flashing warning that signaled Mateo’s threat was growing dim.
“That’s not the case with all those people out there, though.” Sam gestured back toward the sleeping area. “They aren’t Singulars. But they’re not with their Integrals, are they? They’re alone, and lost, and in a lot of pain. I can help them. I’ve done it before, and the man was healed completely, right away. I may be able to . . . weave their severed links.” Sam smiled sadly to herself, as if she’d discovered something.
Greg frowned, wondering what.
Mateo ran a hand through his graying blond hair, looking as if his mind was jumbled with too many conflicting thoughts. When he finally spoke, his tone was heavy and ominous, seeming to echo from a long ago past he had tried to forget.
“I once knew someone who could see as you see. She wasn’t the kind of person who would repair things, though. She was monster, a ruthless creature, hungry for power. When I finally learned what she was capable of, it was too late. Too late.”
Mateo’s eyes were lost in a faraway place within his own memories. He seemed deflated, his hostility and outrage gone, extinguished by the pressure of something much bigger.
Greg and Sam exchanged a glance. Her eyebrows were knitted together. She looked sick again, although Greg knew this time, it was for a different reason.
“We’ve met someone like that, too. This person you speak of,” Greg said, without breaking eye contact with Sam, “Is she, by any chance, Regent Danata Rothblade?”
Both Mateo and Sam let out an audible exhale—even the room seemed to decompress, somehow, making the walls feel like the collapsing membrane of a huge lung that had just breathed out the suspense and anticipation of a lifetime.
Mateo pulled out his chair again and collapsed on it. The new expression on his face made him look like a completely different man than the one they’d first met. The self-assurance and steady command were gone. Instead, he now looked like one of the ripped.
He stared at his hands for a long moment before looking up to answer Greg’s question. “Yes, it is. She is exactly who I’m talking about.”
Chapter 24 - Sam
“How do you know Danata Rothblade?” Mateo asked, his dark gaze shifting from Greg to Sam. “Did she send you?”
Sam heard fear in his question, and it was enough to convince her that he did know Danata. Who wouldn’t be afraid, after knowing her for even a day?
“No, she didn’t send us,” Sam said categorically. She didn’t want to be associated with Danata in any way, much less in one that involved the level of cruelty used to damage so many people.
“We came here guided by . . . Fate,” she added, the word feeling like a foreign object in her mouth.
Ever since Greg had come into her life talking about Morphids, castes and Fate, Sam hadn’t thought much of the latter’s influence on her life. The mark on her back and her abilities had, until today, seemed as random as her eye color and skin tone. Now, though, after driving for hours without even knowing their destination and ending up right here, she couldn’t help but believe in the presence of a higher force urging her on.
“Fate,” Mateo repeated, sounding as if he didn’t think much of it himself.
“Yeah, Fate,” Greg said. “She’s a bitch, ain’t she?”
“Greg,” Sam chided him. He was such a hothead, so impulsive and vibrant and fierce. God, she loved him for that and more. Still, she didn’t want him to curse and grow jaded.
She felt guilty for it all. “I didn’t want to bring you to a place like this. If I had known . . .”
“It’s not your fault, baby. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything bad happen.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. Her heart warmed at his protectiveness, his love for her. As long as he was by her side, she knew she could do anything—even endure the agony that flowed through this place, a dark current that seemed to ride the air itself.
“So Fate brought a girl with an unknown caste—which can mean nothing but trouble—to my very door step?” Mateo smirked, the brush of skepticism curling his lips. “On top of that, she’s also a girl I can’t read.”
“Meaning?” Greg demanded.
“Meaning that, beyond the superficial, like Sam’s need to stay here to ask questions or to get some sleep, I can’t tell what she really needs, what drives her. Like I said, I’m a Caretaker, and that’s the sort of thing I’m normally able to perceive. Like you, for instance,” Mateo gestured toward Greg, “I can read you like an open book. You want nothing more than to keep her safe.” He gestured to Sam this time.
His affirmation set the hairs on the back of Sam’s arms on end. She exchanged a glance with Greg. Was that all he really needed? She felt selfish, suddenly. He had to need more than that. There must be something she could give him.
“But you,” Mateo turned his focus on Sam once more. “You’re unreadable at that level.”
That came as no surprise. If she herself had no idea what she wanted or needed, why should he? Maybe Fate had brought her here. Maybe Fate had a plan for her. Whatever the case, she was far from knowing exactly what that plan was and farther still from accepting anything she hadn’t chosen of her own free will.
“Your needs are muddled,” Mateo continued. “And I don’t trust people who don’t know themselves. They’re wild cards and, more times than not, things don’t go well for anyone around them once they make up their mind.”
“Listen,” Greg said, bristling, “you don’t know anything about her, so don’t go making any assumptions. She told you she could help these people, and she’s telling the truth. She has a purpose here. It may not be clear yet, but I’m sure you know how that works. Now, are you going to let her help? Or not?”
“Not until you tell me what you know about Danata Rothblade,” Mateo said.
Sam and Greg looked sideways at each other. Was there any danger in telling him what they knew about the Regent?
“It’s complicated,” Sam said. “But we agree with you. She’s a monster and, unless there are others like her, she alone is responsible for what ails these people. She . . .” Sam looked down at her hands, thinking of Ashby. Her throat tightened, the image of his still body flashing before her eyes.
Greg took up for her,
“Let’s just say she didn’t wait long at all to show us just how ruthless she is. In that sense, it sounds we might have been luckier than you.”
Mateo stayed quiet, his gaze moving between them as if evaluating their truthfulness. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind and spoke without qualms.
“Anyone who has ever met her is certainly unfortunate. But, I dare say, none are as unfortunate as me. I was once in love with her.”
Chapter 25 - Greg
Greg’s mind was blown. How could Mateo, or anyone, for that matter, have ever been in love with that witch?!
This certainly was turning into a very complicated situation. Greg closed his mouth, realizing it was hanging wide open. What could one say to this? I’m sorry? My condolences?
Regardless, this was good. They needed to keep this conversation going, and if Mateo had revealed this information—something that private and painful to him—maybe there was some room to share their own story. Maybe not every detail, but enough to make him feel at ease, and let Sam do whatever her instincts bid her to do.
Even if Mateo—Caretaker skills and all—couldn’t tell what Sam needed, Greg knew. She had a purpose, a path to follow. He understood all about that. There was no fighting one’s destiny. He had tried and failed. He would protect Sam until the day he died, whether or not that was the best for him. For her part, she too had an undeniable call, which left him with no other alternative but to help ease her load.
He looked over at Sam, at her elegant profile and the tumble of brown hair draping over one shoulder. God, he was lucky. She loved him. Truly did. The barriers that had kept her at a distance were gone now, and she was his completely. Even if this wasn’t the best situation, Greg felt happy. Complete. He wanted the same for her, and that would never happen if she didn’t heed Fate’s call.
Okay. Time to turn down the distrust and pay Mateo’s revelation with one of their own.
Sam turned her warm, honey-colored gaze on him. An unspoken message passed between them, and he immediately knew she felt the same way. She nodded, encouraging him to speak freely. He thought for a moment, wondering what would represent a fair exchange.
A truth for a truth.
After pondering for a few seconds, he shook his head. There wasn’t a scale that could measure such a thing. Trust was either whole or not there at all.
His gaze wandered back to Mateo. He had lowered his head to hide his eyes. Still, the pain that the memory of this past love caused him was plain to see, even in the angle of his shoulders and the wringing of his hands.
It was all Greg needed to make up his mind, so he said, “We met the Regent, two months ago. We were taken there by her son, Ashby Rothblade.”
Mateo straightened and pushed back on his chair, looking more troubled than before.
A niggling feeling itched in the back of Greg’s mind, something that made him hesitate a bit. In spite of that he continued, “He and Sam were Companions.”
Sam gasped, then seemed to stop breathing, as if, by the very action, she meant to hold more than the air within her lungs. She seized his hand and squeezed his fingers, never taking her eyes off Mateo.
That was when the itch in the back of Greg’s head blossomed into full knowledge. As everything fell into place, he tried to deny the realization that now was as clear as a command from his Keeper instincts, but he couldn’t. The puzzle pieces had clicked together, and needed only Mateo’s next question to solidify into place.
“You and . . . Ashby were Companions?” he asked in a tremulous voice, his black eyes suddenly so familiar.
“Oh, no,” Sam said in a barely audible voice.
“Do you mean to tell me Danata severed your bond between you and Ashby?” The passion and concern in Mateo’s question erased what little doubt was left in Greg.
This man was Ashby’s father.
Fate and its cruel sense of humor was getting very, very old. Well, if they were here to rip the Band-Aid, maybe it was best to do it in one swift pull, telling him everything, even his son’s fate.
Mateo was looking at Sam, eyebrows knitted together. “But you said your skill . . . Could you not repair the bond? Were you not given a chance?” he pleaded.
His apprehension revealed a great deal. Mainly that Mateo understood vinculums and what severing them could do to a person. Had he known all along what was wrong with the guests at the shelter? Had he known of Danata’s ability to see and rip links between Morphids? He must have. Clearly, the Regent had given him plenty of reason to hate her. Maybe he too had witnessed the extent and effects of her cruelty.
“No, she wasn’t given a chance and,” Greg paused and braced himself, “even if there had been an opportunity, it would’ve done no good.”
“What, what do you mean?” Mateo asked.
“Unfortunately, Ashby . . . didn’t survive the separation. It was too much for him to handle. Sam and I barely escaped with our lives. I’m sorry to give you this bad news.”
“Ashby is dead.” Mateo’s words had the slightest hint of hesitation in them, as if he’d meant to ask a question, but in the end had seen no point in it.
Greg nodded once. Sam was quiet and still at his side. He couldn’t help but wonder what she felt when she thought of Ashby, and whether or not she thought of him often. It was wrong of him to be jealous. By all the laws and rights of their Morphid nature, Sam and Ashby had belonged together. Greg had been wrong to fall in love with her, to care so deeply, well past his responsibilities as Keeper, but he had . . . he did.
Nothing would change that.
And, in spite of it all, they were together. Fate had allowed it. Maybe even spurred it. That wasn’t a far-fetched concept, was it? If everything happened according to Fate, then everything that had transpired was meant to be. What hope did he have trying to resist?
Not for the first time, Greg tried to believe this line of reasoning. It made sense. It was logical, and yet . . . something didn’t feel right. The love he shared with Sam was outside the boundaries of proper Morphid instincts. What if there was no chance this could end well?
He shook himself, realizing these thoughts had snatched his attention for several beats. As he looked around, however, it was evident he wasn’t the only one lost inside his own turmoil.
Sam, eyes closed, was taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Mateo was staring into space at a faraway point that might have been a thousand miles away, well beyond the confines of his tiny office.
When he noticed Greg watching, he blinked. For a moment, his eyes wavered, and Greg thought he saw tears in them, but Mateo kept his cool and, after a quick shake of his head, regained his collected attitude.
“The last time I saw Ashby he was little more than a baby,” Mateo started, the tone of his voice marking the beginning of a story and his decision to fully trust his unexpected guests. “He was a joy to me, a most welcome surprise for someone who wasn’t born to be a father.”
He dug in one of his drawers and pulled out a small photo album. He flipped the cover open to reveal the first picture. In it, a blond, rosy-cheeked baby sat on a grassy patch next to a flowering bush. His chubby feet and legs were bare and full of dimples. He had a happy smile on his face and his dark eyes sparkled with vivacity. Greg looked away, painfully aware of the contrast between the happy child and the surly Ashby he’d met. Sam inhaled sharply and focused on the tips of her shoes, probably sharing Greg’s impression.
“I never resented my caste. Being a Caretaker was my calling. It fulfilled me, the way it was supposed to. That was until I met Danata. I was at a party at my father’s house in Barcelona. She and her sister, Roanna, were in attendance. Danata was not the Regent, then. By our laws, that responsibility always falls to the oldest Morphid to bear the staff and crown mark. And the job fell to Roanna.
“The sisters stayed for a week after the party. Roanna had affairs to discuss with my father. So, in the meantime, it fell to me to keep Danata entertained. As impossible as it might so
und for a Singular to harbor such feelings, she enthralled me.”
Greg shifted in his seat. Not impossible, not at all. That was exactly what had happened when he met Sam. So maybe it wasn’t unheard of. Maybe it was just one of those taboos people didn’t talk about.
“She was beautiful,” Mateo continued, “self-assured, quick-witted. By my father’s instructions, I was supposed to attend to her every whim. It should have been easy for someone with my skills. But, regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. My skills failed me miserably with her, and that intrigued me, kept my interest. I wanted to figure her out. I thought she must be a very complex soul.” He scoffed disdainfully to let them know how wrong he had been.
“When it was time for Roanna to leave, I found it impossible to stay behind. A mere day after their departure, I packed my bags and followed Danata to England. She was attending school in Cambridge, amongst humans. I found a job as a social worker and, like a fool, courted her. She encouraged me, though. It wasn’t entirely my fault.” He smiled sadly.
Greg spared a sideways glance in Sam’s direction. She was sitting erect now, her eyes wide open and intent on Mateo’s face. The story had her entire attention.
“In retrospect, I see how different she was then, compared to that first week in Barcelona. At the time, though, I was too blind to see how . . . unhappy she was, how aimless. She didn’t really care for her studies. She spent as much time in Cambridge as she did in Rothblade Castle. She went back and forth while I followed her all over like a puppy dog.
“I can’t say I was welcomed there. The council had objections about our relationship, as unnatural as it was.” Mateo sighed and ran a hand over his face. “But Roanna supported us, so they turned a blind eye, even if the gossip suggested that nothing good could come out of what we had together.”
Greg blinked slowly when he felt Sam’s attention turn in his direction.
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