Chapter 34 - Greg

Greg pressed the button labeled M. Espina. A sudden determination had gotten into Sam back at the shelter, and she’d announced her desperate need to see Elizabeth right away.

After interrogating Nadine and Dan, they found out that—worried for Elizabeth’s safety and to keep an eye on her—Mateo had taken her with him.

“He normally gets in around 9:00 or 10:00 A.M., sweetie. Why don’t you wait for him?” Nadine had suggested.

“Um, I’d really like to see Elizabeth, see how she’s doing. Do you think Mateo would mind if we visited her?” Sam made puppy eyes.

“Oh, he wouldn’t mind one bit. His apartment is cozier than a public cafe some days.” Nadine smiled and jotted down the address for them.

With that in hand, they had left the shelter and walked—practically ran, really—eleven blocks to get to his place. It was one of those narrow buildings with steep steps in the front, the kind they always show in movies. There were ten buttons on the entrance panel, all labeled with an initial and last name.

Mateo’s voice came through the speaker. He didn’t sound too excited to have someone ringing his bell this early. But hey, Greg and Sam hadn’t slept very much either, and they’d done it on the floor on top of that. So Mateo could stuff himself if he didn’t like it.

Greg squeezed Sam’s hand to reassure her.

“Who is it?”

“Greg and Sam,” he answered.

There was a short pause, then an animated “come in, come in,” followed by a buzz. Greg and Sam exchanged a look and a shrug. Greg hadn’t expected to be invited in with such excitement, not considering how their relationship with Mateo had started off on the wrong foot.

They found their way to the second floor where Mateo was waiting for them, standing by his open door.

“Hey, good morning,” he said in a pleasant tone. “Come on in.” He was wearing a pair of frayed jeans, a black shirt he was in the process of buttoning up, and no shoes.

They walked right into the living room. Sam stopped at the edge of a rectangular rug and looked around. The area was open, what people call a loft. Everything was stuffed into one room: living room, dining room, kitchen, TV area. Only the bedroom was separate. Sam’s visual search ended at the sofa where a pillow and blanket indicated someone had spent the night there. A pair of men’s boots sat at the end of the sofa.

Sam turned to face Mateo, her eyes brimming with anxiety. “Where is Elizabeth? Is she okay?”

Mateo blinked, surprised by the question. “She’s upset, but I suppose that’s natural.”

“Upset,” Sam repeated.

She seemed so afraid, so uncertain of what she had done, it made Greg even more angry at Danata. This was all that evil witch’s fault. If it wasn’t for her, they would be back in Indiana, attending high school. Living a human life, admittedly, but a normal one. Greg knew this wasn’t necessarily true. If Sam was meant to do this, if her ability was to restore broken vinculums, no amount of denial or opposition could stop it from happening. Still, he could daydream, couldn’t he?

“Is Elizabeth healed? Is she . . . of sound mind?” Or is she still crazy? Greg left out the last part. This was the real question. The answer that would return the peace of mind that last night’s events had stolen from Sam.

“You don’t . . . know?” Mateo didn’t finish the question.

“No, I don’t,” Sam said. “This is only the second time I’ve used my skills and, I assure you, it wasn’t anything like the first time. I’m don’t know if what I did last night . . . worked. It seemed so wrong. So wrong.”

Mateo nodded. “I see. Well, you shouldn’t worry. It might have seemed wrong, but it was certainly necessary. Elizabeth is herself, I believe.” He laughed. “I never knew her before, but I think—”

“I am,” a voice said from the side.

They all turned to find Elizabeth standing there. Her hair was wet. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and pants.

Greg’s mouth fell open. She hardly looked like the same person. Ten years had fallen off her face. Her forehead seemed to have less creases. Her brown eyes were clear and wide open. She made eye contact and even managed a small self-conscious smile.

“Not complete,” Elizabeth added. “But myself, nonetheless.”

Sam sucked in a breath, then clung to Greg, her arms coming around his waist, her face hiding against his chest. He hugged her back, and felt a wave of relief wash over her. After a short moment, she pulled away. There were no tears in her eyes, just a general sense of comfort.

She turned her back on Greg and faced Elizabeth. “I’m sorry about your Integral.”

Elizabeth lowered her gaze and looked at the floor. “I’ve known he was gone for a while now.” Her words came slowly as if her brain were trying to recall the sounds and syllables. “Some part of me felt the emptiness that his . . . that he left behind.” She exhaled, looking close to physical pain. “It’s still there, but it doesn’t weigh so heavily on me anymore. The pain is bearable.”

“You’ve done a good thing, Sam,” Mateo said, his eyes full of emotion. “I thought there was no hope for any of them, and now . . .”

Sam ignored Mateo and walked closer to Elizabeth, her steps tentative, as if she expected the woman to run away.

“You may not want to talk about this right now,” Sam said, “but I was wondering if you remember . . . who did this to you?”

Elizabeth hugged herself and shrank back. For a moment, her eyes turned to glass and she seemed to revert to that half-there individual they’d first seen last night. Then her face contorted in a mask of anger and hatred. Her eyes filled with bitter tears, tears that made Greg think of the frustration of powerlessness and the thirst for revenge.

“Danata Rothblade,” Elizabeth said. “Danata Rothblade did this to me. She murdered my husband.”