Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

It was just as he’d feared.

Veridan cursed again and slammed a fist on his work table. He hated to have his hand forced. He wanted to prepare better before going after the girl, but if she was out there, undoing what he’d worked so hard to accomplish, he had to act quickly.

He couldn’t allow anyone to interfere, much less a snotty girl who was more human than Morphid, a mediocre creature that should have never been allowed to live.

Damn Mateo, his conscience and his stupid caring instincts. This was his fault as much as Danata’s. Why did he have to interfere? Ironic how, even after the many years since he’d last seen his once friend, Mateo still managed to make himself known and tug at Veridan’s conscience.

Enough of that long-gone ghost!

Veridan had more pressing matters at the moment, like finding out where the Weaver and her Keeper had gone. Also, setting in motion the plan he’d devised with Danata.

Immediately.

Chapter 23 - Greg

“Sit down.” Mateo had guided them to an office in the rear of the building. He walked around a small metal desk and took a seat, inviting them to do the same.

The space was small, furnished with a scratched metal desk and a matching chair. There were two corkboards attached to the wall, pinned to the frame with pieces of paper in every color of the rainbow. The carpet underfoot was threadbare, the ceiling tiles marked with water stains. Greg wrinkled his nose at the heavy scent of mothballs. They sat across the desk in a pair of cushionless wooden chairs, the kind that reminded Greg of old classrooms and rundown diners.

“Let me introduce myself again. My name is Mateo Espina.”

Greg let Sam introduce herself first.

“Samantha Gibson, but you can call me Sam.”

“Greg Papilio.”

Mateo glanced back and forth between them. He looked bewildered, to say the least. “What are you? How did you get here? What do you know about these people?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Sam said.

“Just one then, what did you do to Elizabeth?”

Sam lowered her chin. “What my caste deemed necessary.” She seemed embarrassed for some reason, which made no sense. Not after she’d brought someone back from the semi-dead.

“And what caste might that be?” Mateo leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk.

Sam flustered at the question. The name of her caste was a mystery. What she could do with it, however, was not in contention. At least not in Greg’s mind. He jumped in to help.

“Sam’s caste is unknown to us,” he said. “We have no name for it, but we have no doubt of its purpose.”

Mateo leaned back. His chair creaked. “A rare caste, then?”

Greg nodded.

“In my experience, rare castes mean trouble.”

Mateo’s voice held an ominous note that made Greg wonder what the man had seen in his past.

“These people,” Mateo continue, “come here for shelter, a bit of comfort and the feeling of safety. They have enough . . . tribulations. I’m here to make sure they don’t suffer any more. What you did to Elizabeth . . . it caused her excruciating pain. I could feel her
need
to make it stop.”

“She’s better now, though. Isn’t she?” Greg practically growled.

“That is yet to be seen.” Mateo’s words were measured, spoken in a civil manner. Yet, there was an underlying threat that didn’t sit well with Greg. His body tensed, his hands gripped the sides of his seat, making the wood groan.

Sam laid a hand on his thigh. “Is something wrong, Greg?” This was her way to ask if his instincts were warning him of any danger. They weren’t. He shook his head. He wasn’t sure he liked the guy, but Mateo didn’t represent a threat. At least not at the moment.

She smiled weakly and patted his leg. Mateo observed them with a severe frown, his unfriendliness redoubling after their exchange.

With a long inhale, Sam’s shoulders straightened, signaling a change in her demeanor. She still looked a little uncertain, but the resolve in her eyes indicated she’d decided to trust this man. There was no telling whether or not that was a good idea, but something had guided her here. They had to see this through.

“I can explain, Mateo,” Sam said, her voice firm, even if her eyes still showed a measure of uncertainty. “Do you know what a vinculum is?”

At the question, Mateo’s unfriendly demeanor switched to downright hostile. He pushed to the edge of his chair and perched there. His dark eyes seemed to go through an entire repertoire of emotions before settling on the purest form of outrage.

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?!