Ripper (The Morphid Chronicles Book 2) Read Free Page B

headlights broke through the darkness as someone parked in front of them. Sam caught a glimpse of Greg’s expression just as it changed into a nonchalant mask.
    “Well, we don’t have to be first anymore.” He smiled cooly, but Sam didn’t buy it, not after seeing his wounded expression just a second ago.
    “I don’t mean to be like this—” Sam tried to explain.
    “I know,” he cut her off.
    “Please, Greg. I just—”
    A loud tap on his window made her jump.
    “Get a room, you love birds,” Brandon Ellis said, then laughed.
    God, talk about nail-on-the-head comments .
    “I tried,” Greg mumbled, as he opened the door and stepped outside.
    “Yo, dude, what’up?” Brandon performed their inane, complicated basketball handshake.
    “Sweet,” Greg said, pointing to his friend’s Dracula ensemble.
    Sam seethed in her seat and worried at the hole that had already appeared on her leggings. Their male antics had never seemed stupider than at this instant.
    Brandon poked his head through the open driver side door. “Let me see you, girl.”
    She sighed, trying to rein in her emotions, forcing herself to see the situation with logic, since her heart and instincts were useless. It didn’t help.
    I make no freakin’ sense.
    As she exited the car, Greg retrieved his mask from the back seat, and Brandon came around.
    He wolf-whistled and said, “Holy cow, you look like a damn supermodel.”
    Greg walked up, twirling the mask in his index finger.
    “Sorry, bro, but she’s hot,” Brandon said. “Seriously, she could, like, be on the cover of a magazine or something.”
    Greg seemed unimpressed, indifferent actually.
    “Cut it out, Brandon.” Sam wished he’d shut his big mouth.
    “Remind me not to ever give you a compliment,” he said.
    More cars arrived and, quickly, their occupants filled the street with loud cries of excitement as they moved en masse toward Brooke’s front door.
    “Let’s party,” Brandon said, whirling so that his black cape billowed in a wide circle.
    Greg wasted no time and followed in his friend’s steps.
    Sam reached out and grabbed him by the crook of his elbow. “Wait, we should talk.”
    He turned and slipped on his mask. “Don’t worry.” His expression as he said this was, once more, lost on Sam. “You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. I understand.”
    True, he had dealt with something similar when he realized that, as a Keeper, his feelings for her were completely inappropriate. He’d fought his attraction and lost. He even tried to stay away, but his protective instincts brought him back to her. Still, even with all of that, he truly couldn’t get it. It wasn’t the same. She had been severed from Ashby and watched him die horribly, right in front of her eyes.
    “You keep saying that, Greg, but I don’t think you can possibly understand.” She knew her words sounded harsh, but she’d wanted to say them for a while. She looked up expectantly, wanting to rip that absurd zombie mask off his face.
    “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t.” His tone was cool, unaffected, and Sam thought there was no way it could reflect the way he really felt about this situation.
    “Take that stupid mask off.”
    After a few long seconds, he pulled it off and let it fall to the ground. “So much for being in costume,” he said, surprising Sam with the impassiveness of his features.
    “So I take it you don’t wanna talk?”
    “No. I’m tired of talking,”
    “You’re being unfair. You can’t pressure me into—”
    He let out a dry chuckle. “Pressure you? Maybe if we were human this would be about me trying to pressure you. I wish it was that simple. Nah, my problems are bigger than that.” With that he walked away and headed to what was already starting to sound like a rowdy party.
    Sam stood on the lawn listening to the loud music and excited whoops of her classmates. Past memories and emotions of what it had felt to be human assaulted her. At the