Chapter 21 - Greg

Greg knew Sam wasn’t in danger, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t suffering or in pain. He held her close, intently watched her face and begged her to wake up.

“You people are monsters,” Mateo screamed to be heard over the woman’s shrill, desperate cries. “What the hell did she do to her?”

One by one, the curious guests who had gathered around them retreated, covering their ears and shying away like spooked pigeons. They climbed back into their cots and bunk beds and, once more, became distant phantoms.

“Why did you come here?” Mateo pressed.

“She was just trying to help,” Greg screamed back.

“Help?! Elizabeth’s worse off than before you two got here.” Mateo stood, chest heaving, fists tight at his sides.

“If you’re looking for a beating, you’re welcome to it,” Greg said. “But I would think twice, if I were you.” Greg’s body crackled with energy and his hands tingled with magic. Sam was in his arms, so, at the moment, any threat toward him, also meant a threat toward his integral—which was all he needed to activate his protective magic.

Mateo’s eyes wavered with indecision. If he’d thought beating Greg up would be a piece of cake, he was surely having second thoughts now.

Elizabeth’s cries stopped cold. The woman’s shrieks had been ear-splitting and, in the silence that followed, Greg’s ears rang.

Mateo stared as Elizabeth sat up, her face streaked with two lines of flowing tears. She curled her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Her forceful wails were reduced to soft, pitiful cries, like the whimpering of a child.

“Elizabeth?” Mateo knelt by her side once more.

Her eyes drifted slowly to his. The deadness that had filled them before was gone, replaced by something else.

Taking advantage of the lull, Greg sat Sam up, her back resting against his arm. Keeping her from collapsing, he examined her pale face. “Sam, wake up. Wake up, baby.”

“He’s gone. He’s gone.”

At the sound of the new voice, Greg looked back, startled. Elizabeth was staring at Mateo, face twisted in a disfigured mask of pain. She seized his hand.

“He’s gone!” she repeated. Her voice broke. She hid her face in her hands and cried.

Greg waited for Mateo to start with his accusing questions again, but he didn’t. He just stared at Elizabeth, a mixture of surprise and confusion nailing him to the spot.

Sam stirred, then. As she came to, she whimpered in the back of her throat and winced.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Greg said, “I’m right here. C’mon, open your eyes.”

She licked her lips and swallowed with difficulty. Her eyes opened after a short struggle with pain or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell which.

“There you are,” he leaned in closer to make sure the first thing she saw was a friendly face. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

She opened her mouth to answer but, in the end, she simply shook her head.

“What is it then?”

Sam didn’t answer.

Anger started to burn in the center of Greg’s chest.

This is why we were guided here?

He’d rushed Sam out of Indiana to protect her.

Not for this.

A rustling noise made him turn in alert. Unlikely as it seemed, Elizabeth had slipped out of bed and was crawling in their direction, eyes intent on Sam. His first instinct was to block her, but, sensing no threatening vibe, he let her approach.

The woman stopped by Sam’s side and took her hand.

“He’s gone. I don’t feel him anymore,” she said, eyes spilling new tears that carved more streaks down her dirty cheeks.

Sam rolled her head over to face the woman. It lolled weakly to her shoulder. “I know,” she rasped. “I’m sorry.”

“She took him from me, and now that you’re here it’s too late.” Elizabeth pressed her wet cheek to Sam’s limp hand. “He died all alone.” The woman hiccuped and a fresh round of uncontrollable crying began.

“Elizabeth,” Mateo said, his tone bewildered. He put a hand on her shoulder and peered into her face.

His gaze danced across her features, evaluating, realizing there was a change. This person was not the same anymore. Greg didn’t even know the woman, and he could tell that. The difference was too great to miss.

Mouth halfway open, Mateo turned his attention to Sam, then to Greg. A million questions flashed in his black eyes.

“I told you,” Greg said. “She was here to help.”

Mateo nodded once, whether convinced of Sam’s intentions or pacified by Elizabeth’s newfound calmness, it was hard to tell.

With a deep breath and a resolute air, Mateo addressed Elizabeth. “Come with me. You need rest. You need to lay your head down and sleep. It might not be better in the morning, but you’ll be stronger. You’ll be able to think clearer.”

There was a strange conviction in Mateo’s voice that made Greg frown. The man’s words carried a level of authority and certainty that seemed disproportionate. Even if sometimes sleep did help provide a new perspective on your problems, Mateo had no business sounding so sure about it. And he had no idea Greg and Sam had driven all night, so how could he . . .

Sleep.

Just the sound of the word made Greg’s eyelids droop. At the moment, it was also what he and Sam needed. She had closed her eyes again and seemed to have drifted off.

With a few quiet, reasonable words, Mateo managed to pull Elizabeth away from Sam. He helped her stand and led her back to her cot. She curled up under a coarse blanket, sobbed for a moment, then abruptly went dead quiet.

Mateo leaned over her, pressed a hand to her forehead. “Elizabeth?” Her eyes remained closed. “Good.” When he seemed satisfied, Mateo turned and directed a pointed gaze at them. “What happened here? I need an explanation.”

Crap. It would be better if they got out of here, before Mateo decided to call the cops or worse.

“Sam,” Greg said gently.

Her eyes opened.

“Can you get up? We should leave.” They weren’t welcome in this place, and anyway, being surrounded by so many severed Morphids couldn’t be a good thing—not if Sam’s instincts were going to compel her to heal them just to leave her half-conscious.

Sam blinked at him, her eyes fighting to focus. “I can try.”

She wobbled to a standing position with Greg’s help and, after a moment, got steadier on her feet.

“Good.” He caressed her cheek, impressed by her amazing strength. He’d sensed just how hard this had been on her. That she was up and ready to push on made him feel weak and whiny for complaining about his sleep deprivation.

They’d only taken a few steps toward the exit when Mateo caught up with them. “Wait! You can’t leave.”

Greg gave him a dirty look. “Yes, we can. This isn’t the most welcoming of places. And you, well . . .”

The man had the decency to look embarrassed. “You must understand, I . . .” He paused and looked carefully at Sam. He nodded, as if he was having some silent conversation with her. “She needs to stay here,” he added, and there it was again, that eerie certainty in his words, as if he had a crystal ball that told him just what was needed.

Sam must have sensed it too, because she asked, “What makes you say that?”

“My caste. I’m a Caretaker. I know what people need at any given moment, even when they don’t know it themselves. And you need to stay here. I don’t know why, but you do.”

Interesting skill. And probably very useful in Mateo’s line of business.

“I have questions about . . .” Sam looked back toward the huddled shapes on the many beds. “Maybe you have some of the answers.”

“Maybe.”

Greg might not be a Caretaker, but he knew Sam’s instincts had brought them here for a reason. Maybe it was to heal all these wretched Morphids. Maybe it was for an entirely different reason. Either way, the sooner they got their heads around their situation, the better, so he said, “Well, why don’t we find out?”