Perilous: A Ripple Novel (Ripple Series Book 7)

by Cidney Swanson

  And then something very unexpected happened. Someone else came solid about five feet away from Sam. It was Katrin.

  “Go,” whispered Katrin to Sam. Then she took a deep breath and addressed the angry mother. “It’s not her fault, ma’am. This whole mess is my family’s fault. It’s got nothing to do with anyone who lives in this town. It’s my father and my siblings and I am here to promise we will find your son.”

  “My son is missing because of you and your family?” demanded Antonia, her voice suddenly quiet. She trained her gun on Katrin. “I’ll kill you all!” she whispered.

  53

  HE RAN TOWARD DANGER

  Someone was shouting. Angrily. Georg recognized the sound of someone angry enough to do desperate things. It was a woman’s voice. Georg shuddered, recalling Aunt Helga in one of her rages, directed at one of the foster mothers.

  I’ll kill you! Helga had screamed.

  Georg had known she would, as she did.

  Hearing the cry repeated now, in Las Abuelitas, Georg drifted forward, drawn by the anger, the passion. And then, as Georg rounded the corner of the building blocking his view, he recognized the person at whom the deadly threat was being shouted.

  Katrin.

  It was impossible.

  Georg looked away and looked back to see if the golden haired girl would morph into someone else. But she was unmistakably Katrin. She stood bravely, fearlessly.

  It was Katrin.

  He didn’t know how she had managed to free herself, how she had traveled here. None of that mattered. There was a crazed woman shouting threats at Katrin and Katrin couldn’t vanish! How Georg regretted withholding the serum from her that would have restored her ability. It was another mistake in the long list of things Georg had done or not done which were redounding upon him now, crushing him, destroying him.

  Katrin was trying to reason with the crazed mother.

  It wasn’t working.

  It wasn’t going to work.

  Georg saw the woman’s hand as she released the safety on her gun.

  And Georg saw what he had to do.

  For the first time in his life, he ran toward danger and felt no fear.

  He came solid a meter away from Katrin, intent on pushing her out of the way or vanishing with her—either would suffice.

  Georg saw the surprised look on Katrin’s face as she registered it was him. The world slowed and stopped with that expression. It was a look he remembered well, from times when he’d brought something to her that delighted her. It was the look she’d worn the morning he’d presented her with the bleached starfish. Next to her smile, it was the look Georg loved best in the entire world.

  And then, from the edges of his vision, Georg saw the crazed mother pull the trigger.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam heard the shot ring out. Several things happened in rapid succession, but Sam was caught in a state of hyper-awareness, registering each event as if it was separated from the next by hours and not milliseconds. She caught Katrin, who had been pushed out of range of gunfire by Georg. She saw Georg’s head snap to the side in a motion that wasn’t natural. She saw him fall to the ground, slowly, slowly, like when she’d watched a tall tree being felled.

  And then time seemed to right itself. Antonia screamed at Georg’s fallen form and dropped her weapon. Chrétien materialized beside the woman, kicking the gun far away and holding her in an iron grasp. Antonia didn’t struggle.

  And someone was racing down Main Street, calling out that Cody had been found, Cody was okay, everything was going to be okay.

  Sam dashed to Georg’s dead body, bleeding out on Main Street, but it was too late.

  54

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM

  All Will could think of as he fled invisibly alongside Sir Walter was Sam. Would she be all right? Would the residents of Las Abuelitas turn to violence? What would he and Sir Walter find when they arrived?

  For the first time he could remember, Will hated being invisible: it cut him off from checking his phone for messages. Sure, his sister had texted things were okay before they left, but that had been two and a half hours ago. A lot could happen in two and a half hours. Will thought about asking Sir Walter if they could pause so he could check his phone for messages, but that would just delay them. And what if the five minutes it took to check messages meant he arrived five minutes too late to save Sam from something terrible?

  So he grimaced invisibly and didn’t ask. Sir Walter could tell Will was troubled, and spoke to Will in the silence. Sir Walter had always been the only person Will could “hear,” and hearing the old man’s voice just now was as calming as a cup of his sister’s herb tea.

  I wonder if you recollect the manner of our first meeting? asked the old man.

  Will thought back to that day in France, over two years ago, when he and Sam and Mickie had encountered Sir Walter for the first time.

  DEFINITELY, wrote Will, glad for the distraction of conversation. I REMEMBER. YOU WERE KIND OF A JERK. YOU CALLED THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE A BASTARDIZATION OF FRENCH, AND YOU INSULTED AMERICANS.

  Sir Walter’s soft laughter filled Will’s mind, and Will wondered for the millionth time how it was he could always hear Sir Walter and never hear anyone else. He even wrote the question out for the old man, in case he’d had recent insights.

  That, my friend, will always remain a mystery, I fear, replied Sir Walter. And is not the universe a more fascinating place for having within it a few mysteries?

  YUP, Will replied.

  I wonder, my young friend, would it perhaps amuse you to view our meeting through my eyes?

  Will laughed silently and wrote back: HA! NOW THAT WOULD BE VERY AMUSING.

  And so, for the last half hour of their journey to Las Abs, Sir Walter “replayed” their initial meeting at the castle of Chenonceau.

  HEY, wrote Will, upon seeing himself through the old man’s eyes, I’M TALLER THAN THAT!

  Sir Walter chuckled softly and continued playing the memory for Will to observe.

  When Sir Walter’s eyes fell on Mademoiselle Samantha, Will felt something in his heart squeeze tight. She was so beautiful. And fearless. At that time, they hadn’t known whether Sir Walter was friend or foe, but Sam had stood her ground, asking hard questions. She’d been the only one brave enough to inquire as to why Sir Walter had wanted Helmann’s black journals, and whether Sir Walter was the man who had written them.

  Will was back to feeling grateful for invisibility; if he’d been solid, he would have been wiping tears from his eyes. He missed Sam so much. How on Earth had he convinced himself to avoid her these past weeks? He was an idiot. As his sister had been telling him ever since she heard he’d broken up with Sam.

  Sir Walter’s memory of their meeting faded from view, a vanished vision, but Will kept the picture of Sam, dressed for December weather in jeans and a sweater and a fluffy scarf, fixed firmly in his mind.

  We arrive, said Sir Walter.

  DO YOU SENSE … DISTRESS? wrote Will.

  No more than upon, let us say, the Ides of April.

  THE IDES OF … APRIL? DO YOU MEAN THE IDES OF MARCH?

  The fifteenth of April is the date upon which income tax becomes due, explained Sir Walter.

  Tax day? The town residents weren’t any more freaked than they might be on tax day?

  And then the pair of them glided along Main Street, past the willow grove of Murrieta Park, and into the crowd assembled before Bridget Li’s bakery.

  Coming solid, Will looked through the crowd for Sam, murmuring, “It’s 6:30 in the morning. These people should all be in bed.”

  “Ah, there are our dear friends Mademoiselle Samanthe and Madame Li,” said Sir Walter.

  Will’s heart beat like the drum used by the marching band at Las Abs High—people should have been sticking their fingers in their ears as he walked past. Boom-boom-boom! There she was: Samantha Ruiz. The girl he loved.

  “Sam,” he called out.

  She turned toward the s
ound of her name, but it didn’t look like she’d seen him. Her brows drew together and the look was so familiar—so breathtakingly familiar—that Will thought his heart might stop. And then her eyes found him.

  “Will!” she cried. “Will!” She ran toward him and threw her arms around him, holding him like she was the one stopping him from going over a waterfall.

  And in a way, she was.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I’m so glad you came,” said Sam, her pulse whooshing in her ears. “We didn’t know when to expect you or anything.” Her hands were touching Will. How did her hands end up on his beautiful face? The sun crested over the foothills and bathed the angled planes of his cheek and jaw in golden light. Will squinted and put up a hand to block the rising sun.

  Hastily Sam dropped her hands from his face, murmuring an apology.

  But Will just shook his head softly. And then he took her face in his hands and pulled her close. His mouth crushed into hers and their noses bumped together, making Sam want to laugh, but how could she laugh when Will was kissing her! He was kissing her and his mouth was warm and his hand slid down her neck, over her left shoulder blade, and down each bump of her spine, before landing in the small of her back, and all the while he was tugging her closer, closer, closer.

  What was happening? How was Will holding her like this, kissing her like this, with no preamble, no explanation, nothing? A million questions whirled inside her mind, but at some point, she decided to stop trying to figure out what was happening and just melt into Will’s kiss.

  And then, she did melt, vanish, disappear.

  Will leaned back. “I hope that was okay….”

  Sam reappeared and smiled softly. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  “So … we should talk.”

  Within a handful of minutes, they’d settled the essentials: who had missed whom the most, who was the one most deeply in love, and who was most at fault for the ridiculous break up.

  “Me, totally,” and “No, it was completely me!” were among the sentiments they exchanged before laughing and simply holding one another in a tight embrace.

  From the corner of her eye, Sam saw Bridget come bursting out of the café’s front door.

  “Okay, that’s all the ten and unders done,” she announced to the assembled crowd. “Under thirteens are next—” Her eyes landed on Will. “Will! You’re back!”

  “We just got in,” replied Will. “Sir Walter and I, uh, flew straight through the night.”

  “You poor things!” cried Bridget. “Where’s Sir Walter? The two of you need big slices of apple pie and some coffee. You too, Sam. Come on inside right now. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  So Will waved Sir Walter forward—the fastidious gentleman had refused to interrupt Sam and Will’s reunion—and together, Will, Sam and Sir Walter entered the café, Sam explaining what they’d done since the crisis had erupted the night before.

  Mickie, hearing Sam’s voice, looked up to say something, but when Mick saw her brother, she gasped and addressed him instead.

  “Will! Thank God!”

  She threw her arms around her brother.

  “Is Pfeffer back yet?” Mickie asked, her eyes traveling from Sir Walter’s to Will’s and back.

  “No,” said Will. “He and Skandor stayed behind to help Martina and Matteo.”

  As Sam looked on, an expression of disappointment crossed Mickie’s face and she reached down and twisted a ring on her left hand.

  Sam did a double take. Mick was wearing a gold band on her ring finger.

  Will noticed it, too.

  “Hey, Mick,” he said, gesturing to her hand. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Not really,” Mickie replied, stuffing her hand in her pocket.

  “Not really?” demanded Will, his eyes narrowing. “You’re getting married and you think that’s not worth mentioning?”

  “I’m not getting married—” said Mickie, but she was interrupted by Gwyn.

  “Who’s getting married?” asked Gwyn, her eyes over-bright with either delight or lack of sleep, Sam wasn’t sure which.

  “I’m not getting married,” said Mickie. “Pfeffer and I already got married at the Merced County courthouse, a week ago.

  “And you didn’t tell anyone?” demanded Gwyn, her hands fisted at her sides.

  “Yeah,” replied Mick, a smile twitching one corner of her mouth. “It’s kind of a thing around here.”

  Gwyn opened her mouth to respond, changed her mind, and shut her mouth again.

  Will shook his head and threw both arms around his sister, lifting her right off the ground and spinning her around while she screamed for him to put her down, right now, mister!

  “Or what? You’ll ground me?” asked Will, laughing. “Because that’s always worked so well for you in the past!”

  But he set her down gently, running a hand back and forth through his hair and laughing in short, staccato bursts. “Man, I love you, Mick.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Mick said, straightening her shirt where Will had accidentally pulled it untucked. “Some of us have work to do.”

  “You could have rippled to get away from me, you know,” said Will.

  Mickie’s mouth dropped open. She rolled her eyes. And then she stormed off.

  Sylvia came forward next, her arms extended to Mickie for a hug, which Mickie accepted with much better grace than she had her brother’s embrace.

  “Well, I for one think it’s wonderful,” said Sylvia. “And just as soon as Pfeffer is able to return from his work in the Bahamas, Dave and I will host a barbecue to celebrate the happy occasion.”

  Mickie only grimaced slightly as she said, “Sure. Okay. If you really want to.”

  As Mickie turned back to the next patient in line, Sam grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him through the door that separated the café from the bakery in back.

  With her free hand, she brushed his dark curls off his forehead. “Someone needs to get his hair cut,” she murmured, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

  “Someone was an idiot and let go of the someone who keeps his hair in line,” said Will, kissing her nose, her cheek, the side of her neck, the hollow of her throat.

  Sam sighed as she felt herself slipping into invisibility.

  “Really?” Will said to the empty air in front of him.

  Sam came back solid again, grinning. “Clearly I’m in need of practice.”

  Will settled both hands on her hips and pulled her close.

  “That can be arranged,” he murmured.

  55

  THE BRIDE AND GROOM WORE LAB COATS

  In the weeks following Georg’s death, many things came to light, gradually, through Raoul’s connection with Günter and Friedrich. Raoul, along with two other Angels, had settled in Nice with Günter and Friedrich.

  First came the news that the chromosomal alteration which had induced Ripplers Syndrome was temporary. As for Milagros, the island returned to a state of relative peace as the ability of its citizens to vanish abated. Following several large, anonymous donations, the islanders began the slow process of rebuilding shelters and an infrastructure that would withstand the next inevitable hurricane.

  Gwyn was philosophical about the calmer response to Operation Chameleon in Las Abs, when compared to the chaos that had at first reigned in Milagros.

  “Milagros didn’t have Bridget Li to read them the Riot Act. If there’s anyone in Las Abs with the balls to stand up to Ma, I haven’t met ’em.”

  While Sam nodded in agreement, Gwyn added, “That’s the real reason I didn’t tell Ma about getting married. The woman is terrifying when she gets her hackles up.”

  One sadder discovery came just before Pfeffer’s return. Raoul contacted Pfeffer to say he’d heard from Owen. Owen, determined to prevent anyone else from picking up where Georg had left off, had returned to the facility on Tenerife and destroyed every last file, computer, and record. Including the only known list of w
here each cadre of Angel Corps members lay slumbering.

  Sir Walter shook his head sadly at the news.

  “It ought to have occurred to me to recover the list from Geneses’ Rome headquarters before the Italian government confiscated everything.”

  Bridget Li tried to console him by saying, “You can’t think of everything. Believe me, I’ve tried.” She threw a glance over to her daughter, shaking her head sadly and muttering in Mandarin.

  To which Gwyn responded, “Ma!” without translating her mother’s utterances.

  But at long last, Pfeffer felt he could return to Las Abuelitas with impunity. Katrin had long since decided to return there aiding Matteo and Martina. She even convinced Skandor to try life in the Bahamas as a change of pace from life on a still-covered-in-snow mountain.

  ~ ~ ~

  The barbecue celebrating the marriage of Mackenzie Baker to G. Johan Pfeffer took place on a beautiful afternoon during the third week of April. The bride and groom wore … lab coats.

  “It was either that or arrive late,” explained Mickie as Sylvia gave her a hug.

  “Well, we couldn’t have the guests of honor arriving late,” said Syl, laughing. “But come on,” she added softly, “at least let’s take off the white coats, okay?” She held out her arm, insistently until the pair complied.

  Sam, watching from the kitchen, smiled. She turned to Will.

  “I would have let them keep the lab coats,” she whispered. “It’s sort of their … thing.”

  Will laughed. “Mick’s been spending enough time in the lab, this past month, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, of course she has; Pfeffer’s been gone,” replied Sam.

  Will shrugged.

  “Oh!” said Sam. “I almost forgot—the paintings. You have to help me choose which one.” With that, she grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him into Sylvia’s designated breakfast room, where Sam had set out four of her paintings, uncertain which one Mickie and Pfeffer would like best as a wedding gift.

  Will looked from one to the next to the next to the final one in the line-up. Then he shook his head.