Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  “You’re shitting me, right?”

  Joao shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so. There are old scrolls that speak of a Sorcerer so powerful that he figured out a way to move between our world and the human world. It is said he fled persecution from our realm and brought his followers with him.”

  “So why don’t you all go back, if you think you don’t belong here?”

  “Apparently, he didn’t teach anyone that particular spell and no other Sorcerer has been able to figure it out. Not for lack of trying.”

  “Weird!” Brooke couldn’t think of what else to say.

  After a quiet moment, Joao spoke, “Ashby won’t approve of you and Perry, you know.”

  “What?” Brooke’s head snapped in his direction.

  Joao didn’t make eye contact. He simply chewed his Pop-Tart and looked on.

  Their attraction would have been hard to miss, but what made Joao think he could stick his nose in her barely-initiated beeswax?

  “How is that any of his or your concern?”

  She shouldn’t even dignify his interference with a question, but she couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the best of her.

  Brooke wanted to believe that Morphids were little more than gorgeous humans, but she knew it wasn’t true. They had powers, castes, Integrals, destinies and a freaking Regent. For all she knew, there was some law against Human/Morphid relationships, and she and Perry were fated to be star-crossed lovers with the whole world against them.

  Damn, I’ve read too many novels.

  “Well, it isn’t my concern, but it is Ashby’s. I just wanted to warn you,” Joao said.

  “Um,” Brooke changed her sitting position, squaring her shoulders in his direction. “Care to explain?” This, she added in a low, apologetic tone. Getting defensive hadn’t been a smart move. She hoped she hadn’t made him too mad and unwilling to elaborate.

  Joao shrugged, indicating he was willing enough. “Perry is part of Ashby’s retinue. He’s being groomed to be a High Sorcerer.”

  “Hold on,” Brooke got out her phone. “Let me pull up my translator.”

  He smiled. “Well, in so many words, it means Perry has to do what Ashby tells him to do. And, to me, he didn’t look very happy while you two were . . . flirting.”

  “But why?” The words were little more than a pathetic whine.

  What the hell? I just met the guy and, all of a sudden, he matters this much? Of course, it didn’t help that Joao was telling her she couldn’t have Perry. There really was no fastest way to get her obsessed about something or someone than to tell her it was off limits.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Joao absently scratched his wrist. “You should ask Ashby.”

  “There isn’t some law that forbids Morphids to date humans, is there?”

  He chuckled. “No. It’s frowned upon by older generations, but it’s more widely accepted now. Singulars should be allowed to have fun, too.”

  “Fun?” Something about the way he’d said the word “fun” made her ask.

  “You know.” Joao wiggled his eyebrows. “Sex.”

  Brooke felt her face contort in some weird attempt to express all the emotions washing over her.

  Joao gave her a puzzled glance. “What? You thought he . . . ? Ouch, I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t easy to regain her composure, but she did. “So sex is all he wants?”

  “Brooke, Singulars don’t fall in love.”

  “And Perry is a Singular?”

  Joao nodded. “Most Sorcerers are, and definitely those destined to be High Sorcerers. They don’t pick any other kind. Conflict of interest, you know.”

  Brooke looked down and played with her phone. Why the hell was she so bummed out about this? Sex was fine in her book. She wouldn’t turn Perry down on that account—not in a million years. So why the disappointment? She never expected much more from guys, not this early on, anyway.

  “Just to be clear, I just met the guy,” she babbled. “I don’t expect anything from him, but it’s good to know where things stand, especially before you get into any kind of relationship. I mean, I’m not stupid. Plus, you guys might as well be aliens. I mean, it kind of sounds like you are, from what you just told me. I’m just watching out for myself.” Okay, now she was rambling. Brooke shut her mouth and pressed her lips into a tight line.

  But she wasn’t fooling anyone. Joao was looking at her with warmth and sympathy in his eyes. He felt freaking sorry for her. Great!

  Brooke sighed. Well, at least he wasn’t laughing at her expense.

  “Yeah, if you don’t watch out for yourself, no one will. It’s smart for you to ask these questions.”

  “So are you a Singular?” She was ready to take this conversation well away from herself.

  “Oh, no. I’m a Dual.” He waved a hand at Brooke’s impatient look and followed with an explanation. “It means that I have two castes. I’m a Companion and a Wingmaster.”

  “It sounds complicated.”

  “Not to me.”

  Brooke gestured toward Calisto. “What about your sister?”

  “She’s a Singular.”

  “So she’ll never fall in love?”

  Joao played with the empty Pop-Tart packet, folding it into an ever shrinking square. “Not likely.”

  “It sounds terribly lonely.” Brooke cringed.

  “Not to her. If the need for companionship isn’t there, why would you miss it? Besides, she has me, Mum, her friends. She’s not lonely.”

  “I guess.”

  At least she would never get a broken heart. That had to be an advantage. Brooke thought of something puzzling then. “Wait, how do you explain Greg? He’s not a Companion, and the guy is head-over-heels for Sam. How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. There are anomalies. It’s not unheard off.”

  “Sam too, then. Because I assure you she’s not in love with Ashby.”

  Joao’s gaze drifted above Brooke’s head. He sucked in a breath and winced.

  “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” Brooke pressed two fingers to her temple. Finally, she looked back and found Ashby staring not daggers, but swords down at her.

  “Any change?” he asked gesturing toward Calisto.

  “None yet.” Joao jumped to his feet and walked toward the kitchen, crinkling the pastry packet in his hand. “Is there a rubbish bin somewhere?” He walked past Perry, who gave Brooke a meaningful glance.

  What had Ashby told him? Had he ordered him to stay well away from her? Was the bit of fun she’d anticipated having over before it even began?

  Maybe it was better this way. Perry was an expert flirt. Guys like that were only in it for sex. Unless she could be certain she’d be able to keep her feelings locked tight, pushing the situation further would only bring her tons of grief.

  Not worth it. Not at all.

  “I’ve no idea where they went!” Calisto suddenly exclaimed. “They ran around like crazy gathering their bags and not once, not once, mentioned where they were going. Who does that?!”

  “People who don’t know where they’re going?” Perry offered.

  “Hell! What now?” Brooke asked.

  The hope of finding Sam was slipping away. What if she’d run away for good? What if Greg took her where no one could ever find her?

  Brooke fought the sting in the back of her eyes. “What if I never see my friend again?”

  Calisto clambered to her feet and let out a sigh. “Don’t freak out yet. Not all hope is lost. From what I can tell, they left in Greg’s car. Maybe they talked about it in the parking lot. We’ll have to move this freak show outside and hope no one calls the asylum to come retrieve me once I start rewinding.” Without waiting for anyone to say anything, she walked out the door, urging them to hurry and stop standing around gawking like idiots.

  Maybe there still was hope. Brooke tried desperately to hold on to it.

  Chapter 40 - Ashby

  Ashby was the last one out of Gr
eg’s apartment. He shut the door behind him and tried to put Brooke’s words out of his mind, even as they rang in his ears over and over again.

  I assure you, she’s not in love with Ashby.

  It should have come as no surprise. From the moment he first met Sam, he’d seen her infatuation with Greg. With their Companion vinculum out of the way, what else could be expected?

  Two months ago, for a few precious hours, Ashby had known bliss. She had morphed, their link had formed and Morphid nature had taken its course. She’d wanted to be with him, had gone to Rothblade Castle of her own accord, willing to leave Greg behind. If only they’d had more time, her deviant attraction to her Keeper would have been forgotten.

  But Danata hand ruined it all, had severed any chance at happiness Ashby had once had.

  Damn you, Mother. You deserve whatever punishment Roanna brings down on you.

  Ashby held on to the railing and went down the stairs. The others had moved on to the adjoining parking lot and were talking in hushed tones.

  “If anyone says anything, we’ll tell them you’re meditating,” Brooke said. “We’ll sit around you and act like a new-age loving bunch. We can hold hands and even sing kumbaya. It’ll be fine.”

  The sun shone brightly above. The complex and parking lot were quiet and nearly empty. Everyone was at work or school. They had nothing to worry about.

  Shrugging in agreement, Calisto sat down on the sidewalk and went into a trance for the third time. They stood around her and waited without saying a word. Ashby clenched and unclenched his fists, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands with every squeeze. The pain anchored him in the moment, keeping at bay the emptiness that still pushed around him.

  He bit his tongue several times to hold back the bitter words that flooded his mouth. He wanted to quit searching for Sam. Why go after her? What hope was there for him, if she was in love with Greg? What would he get from her? A pathetic explanation? A handful of useless excuses? She wouldn’t repair their vinculum, not if she was happy with her Keeper.

  Soon, pain wasn’t enough and he was lost in the conflict that raged within him. Time slipped away until he had no sense of how long they’d stood there. His entire being seemed to drift as a force greater than his will pulled at his very soul. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should have died that day. He still might, if he didn’t get a foothold on the sane side of existence.

  “They stopped at that corner and sat there for several minutes,” Calisto blurted out.

  “Shit!” Brooke exclaimed. “Could you please not do that? First you look like your dead, next you spring back into life. It’s freaky.”

  Calisto ignored the comment, stood and strode down the parking lot toward the exit that spilled onto the adjacent road.

  They filed behind her like ducklings after their mother. When they got there, Calisto sat at the base of the stop sign on the corner and immediately went into a trance.

  “What the hell?” Brooke said.

  Joao exhaled and mussed his hair. “She gets like this after she’s used her skills several times in a row. A bit frantic, is all. She’s fine.”

  Brooke stared down at Calisto in disbelief. “She doesn’t plan to find them by going from intersection to intersection, does she? ‘Cause if they headed for Oregon, it’ll take us a lifetime to get there.”

  “She’ll follow the trace as long as she thinks it’s reasonable,” Joao said in an exasperated tone. He walked a few paces away, following the sidewalk along the main road.

  Cars drove by, their exhaust bathing them in toxic fumes. The drivers and passengers stared, their necks bending out of shape as they moved past. Being among humans always had this effect. It made Ashby bloody uncomfortable. Four Morphids on one random street corner was just too much for these rubberneckers.

  Perry stood behind Ashby, arms crossed over his chest. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, he was fuming. He hadn’t liked being told to stay away from Brooke. Normally, Ashby didn’t interfere in Perry’s bedroom affairs, but this couldn’t be allowed. Brooke was Sam’s best friend, and if . . . if he found her and was reunited with her—stupid hope—he didn’t want to feel responsible for the inevitable debacle a relationship between Perry and Brooke would turn out to be.

  Ashby turned away from the others. Shame flooded his chest. How could he be so stupid to hope for anything to still linger between him and Sam? He knew his face had turned red from embarrassment, and tears didn’t feel far behind. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this and find out just how defeated and impotent he felt.

  He struggled not to call the search off. He was a coward, but no one else needed to know that. Even if Sam wasn’t for him, she had a right to know her real parents were alive. Who was he to get in the way of that?

  “Well, we are screwed,” Calisto said from her spot by the stop sign.

  “Nothing again?” Brooke asked, frustrated.

  “I did get something, but it may as well be nothing.” Calisto stood and dusted her backside.

  “Well, spill!”

  “They headed east. New York City, to be exact. Sam had a feeling there should head there. Seemed like her instincts were guiding her.”

  “New York City?” Brooke echoed.

  “What’s in New York City?” Joao asked Ashby and Brooke.

  “The hell if I know,” Brooke said. “Sam’s never even visited. Was that all you got?”

  Calisto nodded. “Yep.”

  “How the hell are we going to find them in that huge-ass place with nothing else to go by?”

  “We probably won’t,” Joao said. “But there are birds in Central Park, right? We might as well try.”

  Chapter 41 - Sam

  Sam wasn’t cold anymore, and the hot soup Nadine had brought her was helping build back her energy. She was sitting up on the cot while Greg watched her with his intense blue gaze.

  Refusing the soup when Nadine first offered it had been a bad call. It had sent Greg into over-protective mode. Now he would probably try to push food her way every time he got a chance.

  “You don’t look so pale anymore.” He was sitting on the cot opposite her, making it look like a child’s toy that might break under his weight at any moment.

  “Magical soup.” Sam held the metal cup to her lips and took another sip, her hands relishing the warmth as she held tightly on to it.

  “Are you feeling better?” Someone asked from behind. “Well enough for a visitor?”

  Greg looked up. Sam swiveled to find Mateo, Bruce and Jacob behind her.

  “I sense this is what you need right now.” Mateo gestured back toward his companions.

  Sam’s chin trembled under Bruce’s poignant gaze. There was nothing vague or vacant about it. He stood perfectly straight, which made him look so much taller than he had before.

  “Sam! You did it!” Jacob exclaimed and ran in her direction.

  She barely had time to place the cup of soup on the floor before the boy climbed over the cot and flung his arms around her neck. He said something, but the words were choked up as he began to cry. His chest spasmed with each sob and his tears seeped through her shirt.

  “Thank you, Sam. Thank you,” he managed.

  “Shh, it’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.” Jacob pulled away and wiped a hand across his face, drying his tears. “Mateo said you’ve been resting, said it took a lot out of you.” His baby blue eyes were rimmed red and his little nose was a swollen knob. He looked cute even when he cried.

  “Nothing a little sleep and hot soup couldn’t fix. I feel much better now.”

  “Sam,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  She looked up in surprise, searching for a new person in the room. But no one else had come in. The voice belonged to Bruce. It was strong and focused, not a shred of frailty left in it.

  “May I call you Sam?” Bruce Cofield asked.

  “Of course.”

  “How can I thank you?”

 
“You don’t have to.”

  Bruce nodded forcefully. “I certainly do. What I have endured the last four years has been hell on Earth. You put an end to it. You freed me. If only I had found you sooner, maybe my wife would . . .” He trailed off, some of the previous shakiness returning to his voice. “Anyway, thanks to you, I can finally take care of my son the way he deserves.”

  “He’s a wonderful boy.” Sam squeezed Jacob’s hand. “You should be proud of him.”

  “I am.” Bruce looked at his son, tears pooling in his eyes. “No child should have to go through what he did. I plan to make it up to him.” Father and son looked at each other and exchanged a warm smile. Jacob left Sam’s side, walked to his dad and wrapped his arms around his waist. The boy looked joyful. For the most part, he’d always been a positive, happy child, but now his face glowed, and he practically bounced on the balls of his feet with delight.

  “That’s a promise, son.”

  Mateo stepped forward. “It was Danata.”

  Behind her, Greg stood and moved closer.

  “Bruce worked for Arise,” Mateo continued, “a program designed to support Morphid families in an effort to stop our declining numbers. He was the head of US operations. During one of Danata’s visits, they had a disagreement, and she . . .”

  “My wife died, not long after the ripping,” Bruce said.

  Jacob whimpered and hugged him tighter. So he had given his son the sad news. Sam’s heart ached for the boy, for his dashed hopes and dreams.

  “My recollection of what happened is vague,” Bruce continued, “like a fog fell over my eyes the moment Danata used her evil power on us, and it stayed with me ever since. I fought it. Sometimes I even managed small moments of lucidity, accurate glimpses of the world around me. But never more than that. If it wasn’t for Jacob,” he caressed the boy’s face with amazing tenderness, “I would have probably died, too.”

  Mateo clamped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’ll get on your feet again. I have contacts and can help you get a job, a place to live, somewhere Jacob will be safe.”

  A certain fire filled Bruce’s eyes at these words. What Mateo had said was important to Bruce, and Sam had no doubt Mateo had used his skill to figure out the man’s most burning need.