Chapter 27 - Greg

Greg and Sam told their story from the beginning. They told Mateo about her adoptive parents, the attempts on her life, their visit to Rothblade Castle, Veridan’s perusal through Sam’s memories, Bernard’s repaired vinculum and, finally, their escape.

About halfway through the story, Mateo had sat at the edge of his chair, elbows on thighs, and lowered his gaze, listening intently. When they finished, he clasped the side of his head as if to keep it from exploding.

Greg exchanged a tired glance with Sam. He didn’t want to pressure the guy—this was a lot to unload on anyone—but exhaustion was beginning to eat at the edges of his thoughts, and he didn’t think he could stay upright much longer. Sam gave him a slow nod and gestured with her beautiful eyes, a silent request for him to be patient. She had to be dead tired, too, especially after her ordeal with Elizabeth. Her strength and will never ceased to amaze him.

He smiled and faked a sigh for her benefit, since Mateo was too lost in his own thoughts to notice anything.

They waited for another moment, and this time it was Sam who couldn’t wait any longer. “So, do you think it’s possible? Do you think I could be Roanna and Bernard’s daughter?”

Mateo straightened. His restless hands stayed on his thighs, worrying at the fabric of his pants. Tufts of hair stuck out at every angle. His black eyes looked as sharp as before, but there was a heaviness to his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Sixteen,” Sam answered.

“When is your birthday?”

“April 23rd.”

Mateo pressed a hand to his mouth and funneled his breath through his closed fist. “Damn, if you’re not Celestine, that’s a heck of a coincidence. That was the day she was born. When I dropped her off at that hospital, it was the only information I left behind. I wrote it on a piece of paper and pinned it to her clothes. At the time, I wasn’t sure why I did it. I guess Fate has been working on this plan for a fortnight.”

Greg hadn’t heard that expression in a long time. His mom used to always say that when little coincidences happened, like when she walked into the kitchen right before the pot boiled over.

“It’s an old saying,” Mateo explained when he noticed Sam’s confused expression. “You do resemble Roanna, now that I think about it.”

A small gasp escaped Sam. Greg had been watching as she tried to keep it together, but her emotions finally got the best of her. She leaned into him, eyes full of tears. She whispered his name into his t-shirt and pressed her face to his chest. He held her tight.

Since he met Sam five months ago, the thought of finding her real parents had haunted her, an urge more overwhelming than a splinter stuck in her eyeball. The fact that her question now had an answer had to be overwhelming.

“It’s okay,” he murmured in her ear. “You know, now. We’ll find them. Don’t worry.”

Greg felt the wetness of her tears through his t-shirt. She wasn’t making a sound and her shoulders were barely moving, but she was crying all right. And, from the feel of it, a lot.

“Please, Sam,” he pleaded. “Don’t, don’t.” He made soothing sounds in a low tone, wishing Mateo had the sense to leave them alone. But he wasn’t moving. He sat there staring at them with insistent eyes.

“Thank you for saving me from Danata,” Sam said into Greg’s chest.

Mateo shook his head. “It was the least I could do.”

After a moment of silence, he said, “You are tired, I can tell. Besides, it’s late, and I should check on Elizabeth and everyone else. Do you have a place to stay?”

“We don’t.”

“Then, you are welcome to stay here. There is a small conference room that would offer you a bit more privacy. You can move a pair of cots in there if you’d like.”

“That sounds good.” At this point, Greg didn’t care if he slept on a slab of rock. The back of his neck was stiff. His eyeballs felt like they’d been doused in Tabasco sauce. All anyone had to do was snap their fingers and he would be asleep. The drive had been tiring enough, but add to that everything else that had happened, and it was a recipe for tired-to-the-marrow exhaustion. He could more than imagine how much worse it was for Sam. He could actually feel it.

They followed Mateo out of the office into a dingy hall. There were bulletin boards on the walls, all crammed with handwritten notes. Greg had seen them on the way in and, like before, wondered about them. They weren’t ads asking for roommates or selling old bicycles, like was almost always the norm with bulletin boards. Instead, the pinnings looked like letters, all dated, signed and addressed to someone—not that the handwriting in any of them was legible enough to figure out who.

“The guests write them,” Mateo said when he noticed Greg’s interest. “Can’t make any sense out of most of them, but sometimes they need to write, need to feel they’re reaching out to whoever it is they’ve lost.”

Sam stopped in front of one of the boards. She moved a hand to her throat and rested it there. Her eyes danced over the letters, from the ones at the top to the very bottom. Her lower lip quivered with emotion. Greg squeezed her shoulder in support. She turned away with a heavy exhale.

Mateo guided them toward another door. He gave it a push and it swung open to reveal a small conference room. The room was empty but for a blackboard and few folding chairs stacked against the wall. There was no table. The scent of stale pizza and three-dollar hamburgers hung in the air. It was perfect, considering that sleeping in an alley had seemed like a distinct possibility just a couple hours ago.

Greg dropped his heavy backpack on the floor and sighed.

“Make yourselves comfortable. Scavenge anything you need from the common room. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “Or today, rather.” He nodded and closed the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Sam theatrically slammed her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Her nose was a red knob from crying.

“Best Halloween ever!” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I don’t want to think. I don’t want to ponder. I don’t want to speculate. But those are the only things my brain can do right now. I just want to shut it all off.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Could you please find the switch?”

“I could try.” He sat next to her and took her hand in his.

They let their heads roll against the wall and faced each other.

“Your eyes are red. You don’t look as handsome as usual.” She quirked a smile.

“I don’t? It’s your fault. You deprive me of my beauty sleep with all these crazy adventures of yours.”

She kissed him, her lips lingering against his for a long moment. Greg’s eyes closed of their own accord. Her kiss filled him with warmth, which made his limbs heavy and weak at the same time. When she pulled away, he leaned forward, searching, unwilling to let her go. Sam pressed a hand to his chest and gently held him back.

“I love you,” she said.

He brushed his thumb over her moist lips and savored the sound of those words. “I love you, too. No matter how crazy the scheme.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“He’s right, you know. I don’t know what I want. I should want to help all those people. From the heart, not just because of my instincts, but . . .” Her eyes filled with—what?— guilt? “Does that make me a bad person?”

Yes, guilt. “Of course it doesn’t.”

“I make a terrible Morphid.” She let out a sad chuckle. “I should really want to help them, right? I mean, you want to protect me. Don’t you?”

“There’s a lot of things I want to do for you.” Greg smiled crookedly. Maybe it wasn’t the time to joke, but he couldn’t stand the heaviness and worry on her face.

“I’m serious,” she said, though she still couldn’t stop the twinkle in her gorgeous eyes. “How many of them are out there? I mean, not just here in New York, but everywhere. What if there are tons of Danata’s in the world, doing this kind of evil every day? Am I going to spend the rest of my life following some instinct and fixing what others break? I don’t want that.”

“I wish I knew the answer.” He felt her uncertainty as if it were his own. She was overwhelmed, scared. He hated to see her this way. There was only one thing he could offer her. “What I do know is that I’ll be with you every step of the way. No matter what you have to do, you’ll never be alone.”

Her smile let him know he’d said the right thing. A few words of reassurance had helped her, even if just a little. She reached for his hand. They intertwined their fingers. She blinked as if in slow motion, her eyes practically crossing from exhaustion.

“Come here.” He slipped an arm under Sam’s legs and the other one around her back. In one careful, swift motion, he lifted her and sat her on his lap.

“I’m not a baby,” she said in a drowsy voice.

He kissed her forehead.

In a matter of seconds her breathing grew rhythmic and she fell asleep. Greg smiled. He was always the one falling asleep in the blink of an eye, not her. He looked around. Mateo had suggested finding cots and bringing them in here, but who was he kidding? Greg was too weighed down by fatigue to go rummaging around a strange place. They had sleeping bags rolled at the bottom of their packs, but even that seemed more effort than it was worth.

Instead, with Sam cradled in his arms, he scooted a few inches into the corner of the room and leaned his back between the intersecting walls, making sure Sam was comfortable, her neck at an angle that wouldn’t cause a crick. The press of her body against his eased his nerves. She was safe with him.

This was as good a place as any to rest. He lowered his head toward Sam until he was close enough to smell the rich shampoo on her hair. As he took in her scent, his breathing slowed, his jaw relaxed. The weariness from the last twenty-four hours hit him like an armored truck and left his extremities numb and useless.

Sleep sucker punched him before he had a chance to fight back.