Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  “They have romanticized themselves, haven’t they?” Mateo put in.

  “This is all very nice, but we still don’t know what we’re going to do,” Brooke said.

  “I think we should sleep on it,” Greg offered. “Think about everything.” He rubbed Sam’s upper arm and gazed at her with an ardent look in his eyes that made Brooke want to curse the world for not giving her a love like that.

  There’s still time, little Brooke. Plenty of it. You’ll get your Romeo.

  “Yes,” Sam said. “It’s a lot to . . . process. I need to think about everything.”

  Brooke felt for Sam. The poor girl looked so confused, and what else could she expect? Her whole life had been thrown into chaos. Just a few months ago, all she’d ever wanted was to graduate high school, move out of her parents’ house and become a chef. Now, she probably counted herself lucky if she got within inches of a simple spatula and an egg.

  “That sounds great!” Brooke said, making her way toward the door and gesturing at Joao and Calisto. “We all need some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow. C’mon guys, let’s get back to the hotel.” And with that, they left and caught a cab back to the Plaza.

  They arrived twenty minutes later and rode the elevator, yawning like whales.

  “Sleeping on it was the right idea. Remind me to thank that Greg guy,” Joao said.

  They parted in the hall and headed to their respective rooms. Brooke yawned again and stuck the key card into the key slot, peeking through barely open eyes. She walked in and let the door close behind her. The lights were off, except for the faint glow coming from the crack under the bathroom door.

  Didn’t I leave a lamp on?

  The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Her heart skipped a beat, then her brain caught up. She smiled. Perry didn’t give up easily.

  Sleep forgotten, she threw her purse on a chair and turned when the bathroom door opened.

  A scream caught in her throat as the man who stepped through the threshold lifted a hand and, from ten feet away, clutched her neck with a vicious and invisible force.

  The man tsked, tsked. “We wouldn’t want to wake up the guests, Ms. Perez. Not in a hotel like this. They would never let you visit again.”

  Chapter 51 - Sam

  The next morning, Sam splashed cold water on her puffy eyes. She’d only cried when talking to Brooke, but that would be enough to make her look like an insomniac drug addict for the rest of the day. When she went back into the bedroom, Greg was still sitting on the recliner where he’d slept, elbows on knees, face buried between his large hands.

  “What is it, Greg?”

  She’d thought he was tired or pensive about last night, but something else was going on.

  He straightened. His black hair was standing up. His angular face touched by a hard-to-define emotion. In one lithe motion, he left his seat and stood in front of her.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m . . . saying this because I’m worried about Ashby being back and . . .” He trailed off.

  “And what?”

  “And whether us being together is right or wrong.”

  “Wrong? You think it’s wrong that I choose you?”

  Greg opened his mouth and babbled something. No real words came out, though.

  “You didn’t just hesitate, you didn’t!” Anger spread from the center of Sam’s chest and moved outward.

  He looked her straight on, the clear blue of his eyes startling against the pinprick of his depthless pupils. “I would be with you even if the entire world was against it. All I need is a word from you and that, I have. I know you chose me, and I don’t take that lightly. But I also know how hard this must be for you. To go against your instincts even if they’re not as strong as before, to feel responsible for Ashby’s suffering when you have the power to offer redemption. I know it isn’t easy, and I know it isn’t wrong, in spite of everything.”

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  Greg put a hand on his chest. “It’s not a full warning, but I feel something isn’t right, like the day we were attacked at the soup kitchen. I don’t know for sure, but there might a threat, danger of some kind, and I think we should leave. Now.”

  “Leave?”

  In spite of everything, the thought of leaving hadn’t even crossed Sam’s mind and now, at Greg’s suggestion, the idea felt repulsive to her. It became clear why he’d started by saying he didn’t want her to think this had anything to do with what happened with Ashby. Because this warning seemed too convenient, like he’d made it up.

  She turned her back on him, considering. He wouldn’t lie to her. He had felt something, and why not? If Ashby had found her, wasn’t it just a matter a of time before Veridan and Danata did, too? Something occurred to her then. Something that broke her heart, even if it had no right getting broken.

  “Do you think Ashby told his mother where to find me?” she asked.

  “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

  His answer surprised her. She smiled. Of course he wouldn’t lie. He never had.

  “Then where is this threat coming from? How did they find us?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe one of the others. Joao? Calisto? We know nothing about them.”

  Sam faced him again and said the next words with conviction so there would be no doubt. “I won’t leave. I won’t run away again. This is where I need to be.”

  Ignoring her instincts about Ashby but heeding the ones about New York was the epitome of hypocrisy, inconsistency, madness, something. But there it was. She was meant to be here. She had a purpose, a very good one. Most people did things without one of those. Now, for a change, she might as well be different than the rest.

  Greg must have seen something in her eyes, because he didn’t argue. Instead, he simply said, “I understand.”

  “Good. Let’s go then. I want to help Nadine and Dan with breakfast. Then after that, I’ll help whoever my instincts guide me to.”

  “But I thought you would wait until we figure out—”

  “I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t heal more than one person the same day. I’m pretty sure that’s why I got so weak.”

  Greg frowned, clearly unhappy with this explanation. She waited once more for him to argue but, for a second time, he simply agreed. She loved him all the more for it. Everyone deserved the right to make their own decisions without a boyfriend or girlfriend trying to be the boss.

  As they headed for the door, Sam stopped him and placed a hand on his cheek. “Thank you.” She kissed him gently on the lips and inhaled his masculine scent. “I know this isn’t easy for you either.”

  He smiled, his handsome face changing, lighting up his eyes to the most beautiful blue imaginable. “If I can get paid in kisses, I’ll be all right.”

  “No problem,” she said and kissed him again.

  They made it to the shelter just in time to help Nadine stir a huge pan of powdered eggs and laid deli slices of ham on top of cheap white toast. Elizabeth and Bruce tagged along, eager to help while Mateo stayed back with Jacob while the child caught up on much-needed sleep. Though he promised they’d be there in time to share breakfast with everyone.

  The feeling of easy camaraderie that usually developed among people while working toward helping others came out. Bruce and Dan joked around and told stories about their childhood. Nadine showed Elizabeth how the French press worked and set her to making “nice” cups of coffee for everyone.

  Sam fell into a comfortable rhythm stirring the eggs when needed and helping Greg with the muffins. The moment was almost perfect, ruined only by Greg’s occasional looks toward the door and the constant frown across his brow. Sam figured his uneasy feeling hadn’t passed, but he would be sure to let her know if it escalated to a full warning. So she tried to enjoy the company and the work.

  She needed little to be happy, and right now, she was.

  Chapter 52 - Greg

  Greg was too uneasy to stand behind the food line and serve
the guests. Instead, he stood off to the side and watched the crowd like a hawk on the alert. Any of these people could be a thug, someone Veridan had sent to hurt Sam. He’d done something similar before to get around Greg’s early warning system, and he could do it again.

  The bothersome itch in the back of his mind was low, but steady. It had not relented since it began earlier that morning. He hated its shapelessness and vague quality. It was nothing like the sharp clear warnings he was used to receiving.

  Sam was serving eggs, smiling at everyone, looking happier than she had in a long while. It felt strange that she should feel that way while he was so on edge and wishing they could go as far away from New York as possible.

  He was still lost in the happy features of Sam’s face when a wave of tension rode up his back. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled with a new itch. It wasn’t a clear warning, not yet, but it was definitely stronger than before.

  Examining each face, his eyes swept the food line, then moved to the guests already sitting at the different tables. No one in particular caught his attention. Just as he started feeling like an irrational fool, a few newcomers stepped through the entrance.

  The warning heightened, if only a bit. He scanned their faces in one swoop, and almost laughed at his stupid, paranoid behavior. Mateo, Jacob and Brooke waved at him. Greg nodded back.

  “Where’s my daddy?” Jacob asked, then happily bounded into the kitchen, past the double doors.

  Greg had almost convinced himself something was wrong with his danger-meter when a man wearing a red flannel shirt came up right behind Brooke, and drew Greg’s gaze in a snap.

  The man looked so suspicious that Greg had to check himself not to jump him and choke the life out of him right away.

  Fingers twitching, Greg watched. The man had his hands in his pockets and walked in short steps, head lowered, eyes moving from side to side in a shady, suspicious manner.

  He shuffled behind Brooke as she happily chatted with Mateo on their way to the food line. The man paused between two busy tables. He looked at everyone sitting there, examining their faces as if searching for someone in particular.

  After a moment, he took a few steps forward, just enough to move closer to the next set of tables, then stopped and searched each face again.

  He’s looking for someone.

  Or maybe he was just peculiar, like most of the people here. Greg pressed a nervous hand to his mouth, considering. The prickling on the back of his neck had stopped. For all he knew, this man was harmless, a confused soul in search of a friendly, familiar face.

  Warily, he continued to watch the man as he slowly made his way toward the food line, stopping to survey every guest at every table. When he finally made it there, he aimed his scrutiny at the servers behind the counter.

  Greg padded forward, his muscles tense and ready to pounce should the man make any sudden moves. He hated to take his eyes off him, but his gaze flicked toward Sam, hoping to catch her attention to shoot her a warning.

  In the place where she should have stood, however, he found Dan instead. He had taken over her spot and was scooping eggs with his usual good humor.

  Heart pounding its way into his throat, Greg searched the back of the serving line, looking for Sam, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  He ran to the front of the line and inserted himself in between two of the guests.

  “Where’s Sam?” he demanded. “Where did she go?”

  Dan, Nadine and everyone else around him were startled at the ferocity in his voice.

  “Answer me!” he barked when all they did was stare at him as if he was Fate itself sprung fresh from the ground.

  “She went in the back with her friend, dude. Said they needed to talk. Chill out,” Dan said.

  A part of him welcomed the explanation. Sam had gone with Brooke for another girls’ conversation. His more protective side, though, was urging him to run to the back immediately. Brooke had come in through the door at the same time that man had. What if . . . ?

  Not daring to finish the thought, Greg pushed past the serving counter and through the double doors that led into the kitchen. What he found there sent his body crackling with protective magic that took only an instant to energize his entire body.

  He had been tricked.

  Chapter 53 - Veridan

  Veridan tightened his grip around the little boy’s neck and held his other hand forward—a bright mass of magic crackling, jumping at his fingertips. The boy’s back was flush against his thighs. He took a step back from their place in the kitchen. At first, the boy had wiggled and tried to get away, but it’d only taken a small current of electricity down his collarbone to scare him into submission. All he could do now was shake.

  Veridan cursed inwardly at the missed opportunity. The plan had been to get to Samantha first, but the oblivious boy had playfully skipped into his path as Veridan made his entrance. An annoying interruption that threatened to thwart all his efforts.

  “Let my boy go, you bastard,” the boy’s father said. He was red-faced and properly terrified.

  “Stay back or I’ll kill him,” Veridan growled, the magic in his hand crackling in unison with his words.

  “Please don’t—” Samantha started, but was cut short when her bloody Keeper busted through the door, his entire body buzzing with protective magic much brighter than Veridan’s own.

  Damn him!

  “Stand back, Keeper,” he shouted, squeezing the boy so hard that his feet came off the floor.

  “Greg, no!” Samantha put an arm across the Keeper’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “He said he’d kill Jacob.”

  A satisfying smile spread across Veridan’s lips.

  She cares for the boy, for this Jacob. How delightful!

  Perhaps not all was lost. After his visit to Brooke, Veridan had forsaken his quiet night of sleep for a busy night of preparations. Visiting Rothblade Castle had become a necessity, rather than something to be avoided. And then his plan had been set in motion, one that might still work, if he treaded carefully.

  “What do you want, Veridan?” the Keeper demanded. “I thought you might have learned not to mess with us, but it seems the only lesson you’ll understand is when I put you in the ground.”

  Veridan hated the chill that spread from his neck to the bottom of his spine. The Keeper had nearly killed him during their last encounter. As long as he was tethered to the girl, magic was useless against him.

  With some effort, Veridan kept his face stony, reining in and concealing his fear. Jacob, though small, was proving to be an excellent shield. Now if Veridan could only get Samantha to come closer.

  “I want you,” he looked pointedly at the girl, “to come with me,” Veridan said.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” the Keeper said.

  “Then the boy dies.” Veridan moved his crackling hand closer to Jacob’s face. The child managed a puppy-like whimper through his constricted throat.

  “No! Let him go. Please, I beg you!” The father sounded quite desperate now.

  Veridan considered turning his magic on the annoying man, but then decided it was better to let him grovel. It seemed to be having an effect on Samantha, judging by the desolate look she cast the man’s way. Not a bad side effect in this situation.

  Time for a little demonstration to push things along.

  “My dear girl, the boy’s fate is in your hands. Will you let him die to save yourself?”

  Under his breath, Veridan spoke an incantation that sent tendrils of energy undulating in a macabre dance toward Jacob. He released his choking grip as the magic reached his chubby face. Like snake tongues, the electrified strands licked Jacob’s cheeks and sent his body twitching. A girlish scream escaped through his pale, small mouth as his arms flailed to the side.

  Veridan had no intention of killing him, not yet anyway, so he began whispering the words to end the spell. Except he had no time. Before he was done with what was meant to be a brief show of power,
Jacob’s father let out a primal bellow and charged at Veridan with the power of an enraged bull.

  “You bastard,” he cried out before he rammed a shoulder into Veridan’s stomach, sending him and Jacob sprawling to the side.

  Veridan hit the floor, his head snapping backwards and nearly colliding against the cheap tiles.

  Adrenaline and wayward magic electrified his veins and painted crumbling patterns before his eyes.

  Not this. Not again.

  He would not be defeated.

  Chapter 54 - Sam

  Sam’s heart stopped for what felt like an eternity as she watched Bruce tackle Veridan, a twitching Jacob sandwiched in the middle. As if in slow motion, they flew through the air, but right before they smacked the floor, Bruce pushed Jacob off to the side.

  Brooke, who had been huddled in a corner ever since she pulled Sam into the kitchen with the excuse of needing to talk, screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Jacob rolled away from the scrap, struck the bottom of the back cabinets and went limp. The electrifying energy that had been coursing through his body stopped, but he showed no signs of life.

  “Jacob!” Sam started toward the limp boy, but Greg wrapped an arm around her waist and held her back. “Let me check on him.” Her hands reached out as she begged.

  “Stay back,” Greg ordered in a commanding voice that nearly made her cower away from him. “Run!” He pushed her away toward the double doors behind him. She staggered back, arms windmilling for balance.

  “What’s going on here?” Nadine asked, pushing through the door.

  Sam’s back smacked against the cook who caught her and helped her regain her balance.

  “Oh, Fates!” Nadine exclaimed when she caught a glimpse of the ongoing battle. “Not in my kitchen.”

  Sam peered back toward the door, Greg’s command to run echoing in her ears. She knew she should listen and get out of there, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t save herself and leave everyone else behind.