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My heart sank as I saw the truth of what Christian said.

Mademoiselle, you must call my father and continue calling until you reach him. Do you understand?

Yes,
I replied.
But I’m only going far enough so that I can’t be overheard talking on my cell.

Christian paused and I could tell he wanted to tell me to run far, far away. But he must’ve known I wouldn’t leave him
and
Gwyn in this state.

I observed a small garage, perhaps a quarter mile from the château if you travel back along the drive,
said Christian.
Will you do me the great kindness of placing yourself thus far distant until our friends can assist you?

Sure,
I said. I didn’t remember any garages, but if he said it was there, I’d find it.

I slithered out of the room and down the marble staircase, noticing the rotted out balustrades as I descended. Along the drive I raced, finding the building just as Christian had said. I glanced around quickly, making certain I was alone. Then, after rippling solid, I reached for my cell phone and slowly, carefully, keyed in Sir Walter’s phone number.

A small car was parked in the garage and I huddled beside it. It looked empty. I heard the dialing–pips on my cell.

From inside the car, another phone rang. My call went to Sir Walter’s voicemail after a few rings. Frustrated, I hit redial. I was going to get his attention no matter how many calls it took.

The phone in the car rang again.

And it all clicked into place.

I rippled to pass into the car. Coming solid, I hit redial again. From inside a man’s all–weather coat, the phone in the car rang again. I fumbled and retrieved it from a pile of coats on the back seat. My number scrolled across the “incoming call” screen.

Sir Walter!
I cried out with my thoughts.

To my great surprise, he replied.
Samantha?

He heard me!

A small noise of joy escaped. I wasn’t alone in this after all!

And then, in the back of the car, something shifted. Something that snored. It became something that woke up and stared at me. Then the glazed eyes closed again.

“Bridget?” I whispered in shocked amazement.

Chapter Thirty–Eight

SAM IN MY ARMS AGAIN

·
WILL
·

There we were, all ready to stealth our way invisibly inside Château Feu Froid when Sir Walter made this gasping noise.

What’s up?
I wrote on my imagined note pad.

Mademoiselle Sam has preceded us, evidently,
replied Sir Walter.

Sam’s HERE
? I wrote.

Apparently,
said Sir Walter.

This was such amazing news, I thought my old friend was maybe imagining it. But some small part of me that had been squashed down inside my sneakers for the past month started jumping up and down, ready to believe.

Your friend tells me that she is with our vehicle at present,
said Sir Walter,
And that Chrétien has been captured and lies unable to ripple in a room with Gwyn and—
another of Sir Walter’s little intakes of breath—
with Franz.

Crap,
I wrote.

Indeed,
replied Sir Walter.
I have informed her as to our whereabouts, and she should be joining us momentarily.

My invisible heart thumped in my invisible chest. So to speak. Sam, here with me, was too good to be true. Of course, I wouldn’t exactly be able to see her and hold her.

Ah,
said Sir Walter,
And she has evidently awakened Mademoiselle Mackenzie from an unintended nap. Bridget sleeps more soundly.
The French gentleman allowed himself a brief laugh.

Is Sam here for Gwyn?
I wrote.
She must be, right?

Ask her yourself
, said Sir Walter.

And just like that, I felt a subtle shift in the air beside me.
Sam?
I wrote. Remembering how she’d been able to understand sign language, I spelled out her name.
Sam?

Right here,
came her words, flashed upon a tiny screen which superimposed itself over my vision.

This isn’t how I imagined our next time together,
I signed,
But I’ll take it! I’ve missed you so bad, Sam.

Me too
, she typed.

The three of us made a rescue plan which would require rippling solid, and man, I was looking forward to feeling Sam in my arms again. I wondered if I could get a quick hug before we rescued Chrétien and Gwyn.

But when we got to the top of the stairs, to the room where our friends were being held, we got an unwelcome surprise.

Chapter Thirty–Nine

BLOOD OF THE DE ROCHEFORTS

·
SAM
·

Hans?
I cried out in shock. Why hadn’t I noticed his thoughts?

He leaned over the long table dominating the hall. Eyes closed, fists boring into the table, he was relaxing
.
His emotions weren’t intense, which explained why I hadn’t noticed them.

Sir Walter spoke within my mind, and Will’s:
Do not blame yourself, Samantha—I felt him not, either. But this changes things. I do not believe it would be wise for Samantha to appear in Hans’ sight.

He’s right,
Will signed.
Sir Walter and I can take on Hans and Franz alone.

Between them, Will and Sir Walter refused to let me help, now that Hans was here. We separated so that they could attack Hans and his brother. I could still hear Sir Walter’s thoughts clearly, but Will’s presence receded, becoming only a sensation that he was near.

I heard as Sir Walter called out a countdown.
Ten—Nine—Eight
—I watched anxiously the space behind the two solid men.
Seven—Six—Five
—I felt a rush of anger pass through Hans as he examined Christian, bound and seated on the floor before the couch.
Four—Three—Two
—Hans pounded the table—
One
!

Will came solid behind Hans just as Hans pushed off from where he’d rested fists against the table. The back of Hans’ head caught Will’s nose and Will grunted in pain as his tight–balled fist passed through air, missing Hans. The two struggled, rippling in and out of solidity. Neither could land a blow on the other.

Meanwhile, Sir Walter and Franz engaged in the same strange dance, except that Franz was slower to ripple away. Sir Walter got Franz in an arm–lock that looked both painful and secure and nearly smashed a fist into Franz’ face, but Franz vanished at the last second. The forward motion of the intended blow caused Sir Walter to lose his balance, but he saved himself from harm by rippling.

I couldn’t stand doing nothing, and I’d just decided Will could probably use my help more than Sir Walter when I heard a sound like a branch snapping in half. It took a moment for me to place the sound. It took a moment for Will to cry out in agony. It took a moment for me to realize I couldn’t do anything now that Will’s leg lay broken, twisted at a horrible angle upon the cold stone floor. I was too small to carry him to safety.

Hans delivered one final kick to Will, who moaned, and then knelt to pick him up. Will’s eyes rolled backwards for one second, two seconds, and then he closed them tight, screaming in pain. Hans called loudly to Sir Walter to surrender.

Sir Walter was clearly trying to escape Franz in order to get closer to Will. But I already knew Sir Walter couldn’t ripple with Will either, not without my help.

Do not attempt it
, Sir Walter called out to me, recognizing what I was thinking.

“Uncle,” called Hans, “How long it has been. Might this child perhaps be one of your offspring?” Hans examined Will’s limp form, looking for resemblances as he placed him roughly upon the large table.

Will groaned loudly; he looked pale and his breathing sounded all wrong—too shallow, too frequent.

Hans continued. “How unfortunate for you to find the boy in my possession and without the ability to vanish. But I really must insist that you remain solid and place yourself at my mercy unless you wish to see this young man’s immediate demise.” Hans removed a revolver from his jacket.

Sir Walter, breathing hard, came solid opposite the table from Hans. Franz rippled solid behind him and grabbed him. Probably out of reflex, Sir Walter vanished once more.

I felt Hans’ anger washing past me.

“Come now,” said Hans, as he aimed the pistol at Will. “You are trying my patience, Uncle.”

Please Sir Walter! Come back!
I cried out in fear.

Hans looked about him, as did Franz coming solid, both looking for any sign of Sir Walter.

Then Hans seemed to notice Christian and, without any warning, Hans aimed the gun at Christian and fired a single shot at him.

In the silence that followed, Hans spoke. “Upon second thought, that one has more of your look about him. What do you say, Uncle? Shall I continue shooting the other two in the room, or will you reveal yourself?”

It felt to me as though the floor of the hall had become a swelling ocean. I stumbled to Christian’s side. Was he dead? I sensed myself passing through Sir Walter’s invisible form, and I felt his anguish.

Please
, I cried out to Sir Walter,
Come back before Hans shoots anyone else!
I brought myself to a stop beside Christian. Gazing at the blood pooling on the floor, I heard Hans’ quiet laughter.

“Good, good, uncle,” said Hans. “I am glad you saw reason.”

Franz must have solidified again, because Hans ordered him to take charge of the old gentleman.

“Just the red syringe,” murmured Hans to his brother. “I wish to question him.”

I heard Sir Walter’s grunt of indignation as Franz injected him like he had Christian, but I was too alarmed watching the blood leaving Christian’s side. Should I solidify?

No, Mademoiselle Samanthe!
I heard Sir Walter’s order as clearly as if he had shouted it.

Looking closely, I discovered that Christian’s
arm
bled, not his side. I knew that had to be better. No major organs, at least.

“The boy you have so invalorously fired upon is my son,” said Sir Walter, wincing as Franz taped his torso to his chair. “Please, assist him. His veins spill the blood of the family de Rochefort as we speak. I do not think your father will be pleased to hear of this.”

I glanced up at Sir Walter. The “red” syringe must have contained the muscle–relaxant blended with Neuroplex. He neither moved nor rippled, and was now slumping against the oaken armchair while Franz secured him with duct tape.

“My father!” Hans made a strange noise that combined laughter and a lupine howl. He was a madman. “You think I care for my father’s obsession with the blood of the de Rocheforts?” Hans walked until he stood eye to eye with Sir Walter. “I
killed
the de Rochefort clone my father planned to use to supplant me.”

Sir Walter’s eyes closed in anguish. He knew there would be no mercy for Christian, then.

Hans dropped his voice to a whisper. “And I
will
kill the girl as well. You are going to help me locate her, or there will be
more
de Rochefort blood spilled today.”

Had I been solid, all the hairs upon my neck would have stood to attention. So confident, so cruel was Hans.

And then something completely unforeseen happened.

YOUR FATHER SEES EVERYTHING

·
WILL
·

I totally didn’t see it coming, the next thing that went down. I even thought maybe I was hallucinating from the pain of my broken leg. Because what I saw was this: out of nowhere, Helmann rippled solid, placed a gun at Hans’ temple, and whispered, “Goodbye, son.” Brains and stuff went flying. But the really awful part was how Hans fell backwards onto the ginormous fire.

I fought to stay conscious to watch our arch–enemy’s next move.

Helmann tilted his head and gazed at the now–flaming body of his dead son. “How fitting. You always liked to burn things.”

The stench was pretty awful, but at least it helped me stay alert.

Helmann sighed once and then spoke to Sir Walter. “Greetings, cousin. How long it has been.” His grin was wolfish: all teeth, no friendliness.

I’d lost track of Franz during all of this, but I saw the air shudder and figured Franz must have decided to ripple to safety while he had the chance.

“Cousin, if you will forgive me? I have another child to attend to. Franz?” Helmann called. “Perhaps there is a perfectly good reason why you are not at present assisting the Angel Corps? Come, come, my dear boy. Your father is in a very forgiving mood at present, having just lost a most treasured son.”

Franz solidified near me, kneeling at Helmann’s feet. “Forgive me, Father. I became frightened when I saw you punish my brother. The Angels continue their work. I came here alarmed at a report of what Hans intended—”

Helmann interrupted him. “Take care of that,” he said, gesturing with his gun to Hans’ body in the fireplace.

I saw Franz ripple and, a moment later, the bad burning smell disappeared. Then Franz reappeared beside me and Helmann, speaking quickly.

“Father, you must hear me out. I tried to stop Hans—”

“Yes, yes, of course you did, my son,” said Helmann. He tilted his head to one side like Franz was an odd specimen at a zoo. Then he shot Franz in the leg. “I expect that hurts badly enough to keep you from vanishing, does it not?”

Speaking from my own experience at the moment, I was pretty sure Helmann had that right.

“Forgive me, Father,” said Franz, his voice shaking with pain. “I am your true son.”

“He lies,” said Christian, his voice sounding all thin and strained.

My eyes drooped closed again as I heard Helmann respond. “This much, I knew already. Franz, I’ve been watching you. Do you not remember? Your father sees everything.”