A pair of students were wolfing down a meal as we staggered out of the chapel into the fading sunlight. It looked strange to see something so normal only feet away from where we had just come from. Had it been only a few minutes ago we’d been fleeing some clawed creature in the dark?
“I have a ride,” I told Gerald. “Greta sent him.”
He stopped and looked at me, suspicion painted stark on his sharp features. “Greta did?”
I nodded. “She sent him to pick me up at the ship.”
“How do you know?”
“When I got off the ship, he was there with my name on a placard.”
“And?”
I was offended. I was sore and my ankle was bleeding profusely from where the minion had clawed at it.
“And what?” I demanded, dismayed to hear the slight whine in my voice.
“Greta didn’t send him,” Gerald said.
“Yes she did,” I insisted. But the look in his eyes and the sense of my heart were sinking the declaration.
We’d been walking. More precisely, Gerald had been walking and I had been limping. We rounded the corner and before us was one of those tiny cars the Europeans favor. Leaning against it was Jennifer.
She watched us approach with interest. As she recognized me, her eyes widened and she rushed forward, nearly knocking me down as she threw her arms around me.
“Sam!” she said. I don’t think my name has ever sounded better.
“Jennifer,” I responded, since that seemed the appropriate thing to say.
Gerald was standing, arms folded, a crooked smile on his lips. He gestured toward Jennifer.
“Mr. Diamond, allow me to present….Greta.”
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