Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  “Ashby,” Roanna began in a calm, pacifying tone. “I understand you want to find Samantha. I want to find her, too. Perhaps more than anyone. But we must think of her safety first. Luana is right. If we’re not careful, we might lead Danata straight to her. Dangerous days are ahead of us, and if we leave Samantha undisturbed for the time being, she might be spared the risk. I would never be able to forgive myself if I brought peril to her. Would you?”

  Ashby didn’t offer an answer. None was needed.

  “Her Keeper will look after her,” Roanna added. “He has done an outstanding job thus far.”

  Ashby’s teeth ground together as he held back the words that jumped into his mouth.

  What if my mother kills you and you never get a chance to meet your daughter?

  What if it’s Sam who dies?

  But arguing with these people would do no good. He had plenty of experience dealing with this kind of intransigence. As a matter of fact, he had to be the most qualified person on the planet when it came to that. Eighteen years of living with Danata had taught him that much.

  He didn’t need any of them. He had Perry on his side and, apparently, Brooke. Besides, doing things behind people’s back was nothing new for him or Perry.

  He had a feeling it wouldn’t be a novelty for Brooke, either.

  Chapter 31 - Greg

  After eating their killer breakfast, Greg and Sam made themselves useful in the kitchen. Nadine looked surprised at their efficiency, until they explained their work at the soup kitchen back in Indiana.

  “Well, that’s a fortunate coincidence,” she said with a smile. The way she emphasized the word reminded Greg of his parents. It had that hint of sarcasm that meant whatever had happened was no coincidence at all, but a scheme from Fate.

  Nadine looked up at the big, round clock on the wall. “We’re even ready a bit early!”

  It was 6:55 A.M. and the doors opened at 7:00 AM.

  “We can help serve, too,” Sam offered.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She loved being in a kitchen working with her hands, and she loved watching people enjoy what she’d cooked. Greg couldn’t help but smile at her content expression. This was what he wanted for her. These were the emotions he wanted her to feel. There had been too much fear and anxiety lately, even as he’d tried to protect her. Maybe he’d been wrong about New York. Maybe it’d be good for her, because this was where she was meant to be.

  What a coincidence!

  “I never turn down help at the food line.” Nadine squatted by a set of cabinets and started digging inside. “That means I have more time to clean and get everything back in order and ready for the next meal. Here, put these on.” She handed them gloves, paper aprons and hats, then turned to Dan. “I guess we can open a few minutes early.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He retrieved a key chain from a hook on the wall. “C’mon!”

  He guided Greg and Sam into the dining area, set them in position behind the pans of food they’d brought out earlier and gave them serving instructions.

  “I’ll open the door and be right back. Nadine stays in the kitchen cleaning when we’ve got help out front. So it’ll just be us.” Key in hand, he turned and cut across several rows of tables and chairs.

  Greg pulled his gloves on. “Feels kinda like home.”

  They’d stood together behind the food line, ladles in hand, many times. Helping others created a sense of companionship that seemed to flow in the air. He enjoyed sharing that with Sam and sensing her contentment. It was contagious.

  Sunlight spilled into the room as Dan opened a set of large wooden doors. People started to file in, moving at a sluggish pace, their bodies bent down like malnourished trees. He exchanged a glance with Sam. This was different from home. The guests there always hurried to reach the line, too hungry to wait another minute. Here, they looked just as hungry, but not even the idea of food seemed enough to invigorate them.

  He looked toward Sam, trying to perceive a change in her mood, but there didn’t seem to be any. If anything, her eagerness to help and serve seemed to increase. It couldn’t be easy to be around all these severed Morphids. Maybe she was getting better at managing the response their presence brought on. He had gotten better at understanding her emotions and the warnings his Keeper instincts sent him. As long as he wasn’t too busy kissing Sam, anyway. He felt his ears get hot at the memory of that night and what they’d been about to do.

  The first guest reached the line. Greg shook his head and tore his mind off those distracting thoughts. He took a divided paper plate from a stack and scooped some eggs into one of the sections. They weren’t real eggs like the ones Nadine had prepared for them, but they still looked better than the ones they usually served in Indiana.

  He handed the plate to Sam and picked up another one. Meanwhile, she served two sausage links in the second partition of her plate and gave it to Dan. He added a piece of toast on top of the eggs, then filled the last partition with a small scoop of canned fruit.

  The first guest received the plate along with a plastic spork, napkin and small packets of salt and pepper.

  After filling a few plates, they got the swing of things and the line began moving at a good clip. Greg had started to shuffle plates like a robot, barely paying attention, when Sam broke the rhythm and left him hanging.

  He looked over, wondering what the hold-up was. Her expression was frozen into a mask of surprise that sent his instincts searching for danger. He put everything down to free his hands, then followed her startled gaze.

  “Jacob?” she said in a half whisper.

  Looking just as startled as Sam, a boy of about seven or eight stood staring back. “Sam, is that you?” he said in the same incredulous tone.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Jacob frowned. He hadn’t seen Sam since before she morphed. “Did you . . . ? Are you a . . . Morphid?” He added the last word in a whisper, a hand cupped to the side of his mouth.

  Sam laughed. “I am.”

  “Me too!” he exclaimed in a louder voice that made even the most sluggish guests turn their heads in the boy’s direction.

  Sam abandoned everything, ran to the other side of the food line and wrapped the boy in a bear hug. He wrapped his spindly arms around her neck in return. After a quick hug, they pulled away from each other and started talking at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” Jacob asked.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again!” Sam said.

  “Friends?” Dan asked with mock skepticism, then laughed at his own joke.

  “You’re holding up the line,” one of the few humans in line grumbled.

  “Sorry.” Sam stepped away from Jacob.

  “Here you go, little man.” Dan handed Jacob a plate. “I gave you an extra scoop of fruit.” He winked and Jacob smiled a huge smile. “We can finish here if you want to go with your buddy, Sam. Looks like you two might have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Yeah, go ahead,” Greg said. “We’ve got this.”

  Sam was radiant now. She’d been so worried about Jacob, finding him here had to be a huge relief.

  “That’s my boy,” the next man in line mumbled.

  He’d been standing there all along, and Greg had barely noticed him.

  “Hi, Mr. Cofield,” Sam said. “Remember me. Sam, from the soup kitchen in Indiana.”

  A certain recognition sparkled in man’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

  Before the more alert people in line went on riot, Greg started loading the plates with sausages and passing them on to Dan.

  Jacob’s dad hovered over the boy in a protective manner as if he expected Sam to hurt him.

  “Hey, Bruce, here’s your plate.” Dan pushed the food in front of Jacob’s dad to distract him. “Why don’t you and Jacob sit down and eat before it gets cold?”

  Bruce took the plate and stared at it for a moment before moving
on—Sam going with them and chatting animatedly with Jacob.

  Dan shook his head. “He’s very protective of the little boy, whether you mean him harm or not. I hate to think of it, but Mateo says he worries something bad might happen to Jacob.”

  “What do you mean?” Greg filled another plate, trying to find a new rhythm.

  “Well, Mateo senses nothing but a protective need from Bruce. Apparently, it’s strong. Weird for someone in his state of mind. He’s also says strange things sometimes, like, ‘she got it all wrong. Nothing will happen to him.’ Stuff like that. Could be a Seer or a Morphid with a skill to glimpse the future told Bruce something was going to happen to the boy. That’s what Mateo thinks, anyway.”

  “That’s messed up, man.” Knowing that something might happen to a loved one would be a nightmare. “All parents are protective, though. Maybe that’s all.” Greg hoped no one told Sam about this. She didn’t need more things to worry about.

  “Yeah, I rather look at it that way, too.” Dan discarded an empty container of fruit and replaced it with another. “I’d hate to be a Seer, dude. I like living in the day. The future is an illusion.”

  “Ooh, watch out!” Nadine said as she came out of the kitchen. “Dan is getting philosophical again.”

  Nadine started gathering the empty pans and containers. A familiar and friendly banter began between the two as she cleaned up.

  Greg looked over the people in line and searched the different tables until he saw Sam and Jacob. They were talking and smiling. As Greg continued to serve food, his gaze kept wandering back to that spot.

  Another coincidence. How many was that so far?

  This last one had felt like a good one, at first, but after what Dan had said, Greg wasn’t so sure anymore.

  He scooped up another glob of eggs and hoped the nagging feeling Dan had put in his gut didn’t mean anything at all.

  Chapter 32 - Sam

  “Plastic. Hate plastic,” Jacob’s dad said, rubbing a thumb on his spork. “You can’t tell anything about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Jacob said. “Eat your eggs. They’re good.” The boy smiled when Bruce scooped eggs into his mouth and chewed. “He’s a Forester. He hates artificial things.”

  A Forester?

  Sam nodded, thinking she had a pretty good idea about this caste. A much better one than she had about her own, anyway.

  It’d only been about eight weeks since she’d last seen Jacob, but he seemed years older, as if in that short amount of time he’d seen and lived more than any child should. God only knows the speed at which a homeless child needs to grow. Sam’s heart felt like it could break in two.

  Jacob attacked his fruit cocktail before the rest of the breakfast, setting a few scattered cherries aside. He gobbled it all up so fast, he barely seemed to enjoy it. When he finished, he scooped the four cherries he’d found, placed them carefully on the spork and ate them in one bite.

  “Those are my favorite.” He licked his lips.

  “Eat mine,” Bruce said, without even looking at his son.

  “No, Dad. I had two servings. Thank you, though.” He patted his father’s arm.

  Sam took a deep breath to steady her emotions. This boy had always inspired such tenderness in her, and seeing him like this had never been easy, but right now, it was proving harder than ever. He was thinner than before. His hair had no shine to it and his skin was sallow. But the thing that got to her the most was the heaviness in his gaze, a weight that didn’t belong there.

  This damn life never seemed to have a problem serving up misery, even to those unprepared to deal with it.

  Sam blinked at the ceiling and swallowed hard. Afraid to even try, she narrowed her eyes and dared peer at all the broken vinculums that floated above her. While helping at the food line, she’d been tempted to look, but she’d held back, afraid of the overwhelming sadness she’d so far managed to keep at bay this morning.

  Now, however, Jacob was here, and her suspicions about him and his father were confirmed. They were Morphids, and maybe that feeling she’d had these past eight weeks, the feeling that she could help Jacob, was more than that. It was time to find out.

  Dozens of ribbons of light floated above her. They all varied in length and intensity. She was immediately afraid of the paler vinculums. She knew what that sickly color meant. With all her heart, she wished she could gather them all and repair them but, without even knowing what she’d done to Elizabeth, how could she attempt to “help” anybody else?

  She lowered her gaze and, pretending to be brave, directed it toward Bruce. An involuntary gasp escaped her. She slammed her eyes shut.

  “What is it?” Jacob asked, his sweet eight-year-old face full of concern.

  “Nothing,” Sam lied, opening her eyes and giving the boy her best smile.

  Maybe she wouldn’t be able to help him after all. Bruce’s vinculum looked just like Elizabeth’s. There was no one on the other side. No one. Jacob’s mom was dead, and he didn’t know it. He’d talked about her several times, had told Sam they would find her one day and everything would be like it was meant to be, like when he was four, and his mom took him to school and the playground, and cooked the most delicious treats ever.

  But there was no hope for that. Not now. Not ever again.

  “You look like you’re about to cry,” Jacob said with a frown.

  “I’m just happy to see you. That’s all,” Sam said.

  “Then smile, silly. Don’t cry.” In spite of his scolding, the boy could tell something else was going on. He gave Sam a warm smile and a gentle nudge with his elbow.

  “Why did you guys come to New York?” Sam asked after a moment watching Jacob devour his sausage.

  He shrugged. “Dad wanted to. Something got into him and so . . .” He looked up from his plate and locked eyes with her. “Well, you know how it is when that happens. You’re a Morphid, too.”

  “Yeah, I do know.”

  “I never imagined you were a Morphid. I mean, you never said anything.”

  “You didn’t either.” Sam hadn’t known either, but she didn’t want to confuse him.

  “Dad says I should never tell anyone,” Jacob said. “We don’t run into many of our kind. Well,” he looked around the room, “it’s different here.” “Your father is right. Humans would think you’re crazy.”

  “They already think that anyway.” Jacob lowered his head, his nose only a few inches from his plate. His dirty blond hair spilled over his forehead. He had a handsome profile.

  He’ll break plenty of hearts one day.

  Or not. That had definitely been a human thought. Who knew what the boy would morph into. If into a Companion, he would never break any hearts. He would fall in love quicker than at-first-sight and would forever stay in love.

  At least that was the idea. It hadn’t worked out quite that way for her. Far from it.

  “It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks,” Sam said.

  “That’s not true. That’s just something people say. It does matter.” Jacob’s jaw was twitching as he clenched his teeth on and off. “Dad can’t get a job. People move to the other side of the street when we walk by. They don’t look at us, and if they do, they look at us like they don’t even want to see us, like they’re grossed out.”

  Sam felt her heart crack right down the middle. Jacob had never talked to her like that before. She’d had no idea he felt this way.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. You’re right. There are a lot of things people say that aren’t true. It’s easy to say them when you’ve never lived through anything difficult.”

  He sniffed and shook his head. “I’m sorry I said that. You’re just trying to help.”

  “Don’t apologize. You can always tell me anything that’s on your mind. We’re friends, right?” She nudged him back in a teasing way.

  “Are we? Really?” Jacob stared up at her. The hopeful expression in his eyes cracked her heart into more than just two pieces.

&n
bsp; “Of course! Hey, do you think you’re staying in New York?” Sam didn’t want him to disappear again.

  “I guess. Unless something else gets into Dad.” He gave his father a sideways glance and seemed relieved to find him eating.

  Sam wanted to say that she could help them, but she wasn’t sure if that was possible. Not until . . .

  “What is it?” Jacob asked when she stood up abruptly.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave, please. Don’t go anywhere until I get back.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened in surprise at her strong request. “Oh . . . okay.”

  Suddenly, she had to see Elizabeth, find out what destroying what was left of her broken vinculum had done to her. Sam refused to believe it had accomplished nothing. Her instincts wouldn’t have driven her to excise her vinculum unless it was for the best.

  Or would they?

  Chapter 33 - Brooke

  Standing by the kitchen island, Brooke spread Nutella over a piece of strange looking bread. “I bet you haven’t even heard of Wonder Bread.” They didn’t have peanut butter! Nutella was okay, but why did they act all weirded out when she asked for a PB&J sandwich. Europeans!

  “Wonder Bread?” Calisto asked as she layered moldy-looking cheese on top of her bread.

  Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Never mind.” She poured herself milk from an honest-to-god glass bottle.

  The old fogies had sent them to the kitchen to find something to eat while they conferred. Brooke had followed Calisto and Joao along, glad to finally put something into her growling stomach. Ashby and Perry had trailed behind, talking in hushed voices and looking downright suspicious—something they were still doing, huddled together at the kitchen table.

  Calisto noticed her watching them and followed her gaze. “What do you think they’re planning?”

  Brooke looked up at Calisto. It was annoying how all these Morphid women where taller than her. Brooke was used to looking down at most girls, and she was starting to miss that.

  “It’s not hard to guess.” Brooke figured there was no point in playing dumb. It wasn’t as if Ashby was trying to hide his secret plotting, anyway.