Watch of Nightingales

by Honor Gable

  I don't believe the noise until I see it. I refuse to entertain the hopeful thought. American flags fly in front of the Arch and the entire city is here jostling and shoved into a mass of writhing and celebrating bodies.

  Liberation.

  Liberation.

  Paris has been liberated, the Allies have finally made it. My face hurts from the happiness spreading across my cheeks and tears flow free. The city is singing Marseilles, just like the people taken away in trolleys and cattle cars. My heart is so full I'm certain it will burst any second, and I'm perfectly fine with that. My eyes squeeze shut and I force myself to turn away. I have to get back to the others. This isn't something I want to experience without them.

  The joy and hope at the sight of those striped flags surges more energy and power through me than the fear or anger. Maybe Lois was right about what she said about faith. It's much more powerful than any other negative feeling.

  They aren't at the flat yet, so I speed past, following the route they planned and stumble to a halt when I catch sight of them. They're still a few meters away, but my strength is gone.

  I cup my face with my hands and shout, "Liberation."

  Grins light up their faces and they race for me, Xavier reaching me first and yanking me into his arms, spinning me until I'm dizzy with laughter, smacking kisses on both my cheeks. Rivka is next and we hold onto each other, weeping. Audrey missed it by less than a month. Lois missed it by two days. Two days.

  Two bleeding days.

  THE CROWD NO LONGER sings, instead it's an uproar of voices, yelling and crying and whooping. Street after street is packed with bodies and the stench is rank.

  We join hands and fight through the crowd to the other side of the street, getting wine spilled on us and our feet trodden on. People are kissing, hugging, swaying back and forth with their arms around each other, laughing, crying, hands raised to the heavens in thanks.

  And it's beautiful.

  I turn to Rivka and Xavier, their shining eyes and smiles cracking their faces pierces me with joy. Overwhelmed with the wave of emotions crashing electric through the crowd, I clutch my hands to my chest. Rivka throws her arms around me and it opens the floodgates. We sob in each other's necks. For Lois, for Audrey, for the others who didn't make it to this day. But also, for freedom and joy and hope and celebration. And because we made it. And in a small way, we helped this day arrive.

  Xavier clears his throat and holds his arms out with wet eyes. I jump into them and laugh and choke on tears still falling as he spins me around. Rivka's turn is next and then the three of us are in an embrace, laughing, crying, jabbering, sniffling.

  And it's beautiful.

  Someone starts singing again. And in moments the crowd swells with voices raised high, their faces upturned and wet and bright. For this moment, as I celebrate with another country in their freedom, everything before today is worth it. The sacrifices, the losses, the grief, the pain.

  My eyes are blinded by a strange light coming from a window. I don't think, I act as the shots ring out, tackling Rivka and tumbling us to the ground. Xavier lands beside us a beat later. Screams and gunfire replace the beauty of song with its ugliness.

  We yank out weapons I'd hoped to put away forever and our muzzles and eyes search for targets.

  They've already been found and put down by others, ready with guns and death. We get to feet on legs trembling with adrenaline and fear and relief. Maybe our celebration is a bit premature.

  Xavier turns to us. "We need to get out of here. There may be more and if we want to get home, we have to find Hugo."

  Reality is harsh and bright.

  The crowd bounces back fast, determined to soak in the happiness and relief. We fight our way through the still growing masses. Recognition flares and I break away to throw myself on the two women kissing, arms wrapped around each other tight. Jade and her maid. Or lover. Maybe both. They laugh and squeeze me tight, questions firing from their mouths faster than I can answer.

  Hugs and kisses continue for Rivka and Xavier, everyone chattering, trying to be heard over everyone else in the city. Jade holds up her hand. "Let's return to my house. We can catch up and celebrate properly."

  Rivka and I nod, excited and longing for her beautiful beds.

  Xavier purses his lips. "I'll meet you there. I'm going to try and find Antoine and Hugo. They holed up here somewhere before we left. We need that wireless."

  He disappears, leaving us to follow Jade. My face hurts from the smile I can't seem to wipe from my face. The other aches in my legs and back and blistered feet are forgotten. I'll feel them again tomorrow, but today only good things are allowed in.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  AUDREY

  There's too much room in our bunk. The heat from Lore's skin makes me sweat. Too wired for sleep, I reach into the hiding place under the loose plank on the bunk above us. Maybe I'll try writing Viola a letter again. Henri's sheath of papers flutters down on top of me.

  "She didn't take her story."

  Lore's eyes crack open a little. "What?"

  "Henri left her story."

  These are the first words Lore has really responded to. Her eyes pop wide and she smiles a little. "Can you read it to me?"

  Henri's words are tiny scrawls filling up four pages of blank paper and continued in the margins of the propaganda pages she found. I can't believe she left these here. Was she scared they'd be confiscated? Or is it her last gift to us?

  My voice shakes as I read her words, growing stronger as I fall into the story.

  Marianne is the goddess of liberty, allegory, and reason. She is strong and wise and brave. Both men and women look to her to lead them against the Goblins who have enslaved them. This is the story of her final battle.

  A young girl in a red Phrygian cap runs up to Marianne, gasping for breath. "My lady, they will be here in moments."

  Marianne kneels down in the dirt before her. "We are ready. Fear not, young one. The goblins will not win today." She stands and places her own Phrygian cap atop her head. It's strange how such a slight thing has brought her people together.

  The army in red caps have put a healthy fear into the Goblins' hearts though. They are swift and always strike true, taking out Goblins one by one, setting their people free from back breaking slavery in the mines.

  Today, the Goblins come for them. Their force is strong, but evil will never prevail. Marianne won't let it. She calls for her three right hand women, Justine, Henriette, and Nina. They hurry in, their hands already resting on the swords they have strapped at their hips. These three have been with her from the beginning, fierce and unbending, at her side, fighting. Always fighting.

  The day they quit will be the day they all fail. But her girls will never stop fighting. They don't have it in them.

  "The battle today will be the worst one yet. We've never fought so large a number before."

  Justine tosses her head. "It matters not. The Goblins may be strong and terrifying, but we're better."

  Marianne smiles. "Thank you, my friend."

  "We have an army of desperation behind us. They will do anything it takes to win to free their loved ones. Love will always overcome greed." Henriette's romantic notions always amuse Marianne.

  Nina shrugs and gives her usual terse words. "We've trained our people well."

  Marianne stands tall and straps her own sword to her hips, throws the blue, white, and red cockade across her shoulders, and takes up her pike. "Let us go out and meet them on the battlefield with honor."

  They march outside to yells and whoops of their troops. Four horses have been readied for them. Magnificent beasts, black and shiny, decked out in soft leather saddles and sparkling silver bits. Girls from the core female squad help them onto the backs of the horses, then leap onto their own.

  A sea of red caps stand ready before them. A lump grows in Marianne's throat at the utter trust and belief they have in her. She will not fail these people. She raises her pike hig
h in the air and their camp swells with cheers, warming her heart.

  She nudges her horse, her squad of women falling in behind her, and they ride out to their meeting on the battlefield.

  They meet the Goblins in a clash of metal and screams and blood.

  There are thousands of them. Tens of thousands.

  Marianne refuses to quail before them, leading her people head-on into the lines of helmed Goblins.

  Justine, Nina, and Henriette stay in a tight circle around Marianne, hardly letting any Goblins through for her to take down. Her lips twist in a snarl as her sword meets the scythe of one, his grey pox-marked skin oozing, his filth covered clothes decorated with the teeth and hair of her brethren. With a swing of her sword, his head flies from his body, his brown teeth glaring from his mouth open in the surprise of death. His body crumples beside it and she turns her attention to one about to take down Henriette, her pike soaring through the air, sinking in his chest.

  On and on they surge through the mass of Goblins, striking them down one by one, the cloudy blue blood splattering their faces and dresses. Swords slice, pikes stab, Goblins and people alike cry out as death finds them.

  Thunder grumbles above them and lightning webs across the sky, rain battering down on them within seconds. The horses struggle and slip in the mud underfoot. Marianne screams for dismount.

  Their boots sink into the slime as they smack their horses on the rumps to send them to safety. Marianne is a swirl of blue, white, and red, as she spins and swings her sword, stabbing, slicing, cutting, painting herself blue with blood, her eyes lit with fire and freedom. Her three comrades never leave her side, their movements together utter poetry in motion, as they fight in sync with each other.

  Nothing can touch them.

  With a raise of her pike, arrows rain down around them from the archers left up the hill in the wood-line, each one finding its mark.

  The Goblins snort and roar like swine, not understanding how these pathetic humans are beating them.

  Hours later, Marianne stands bare breasted in the middle of the battlefield littered with dead, running with red and blue blood, pooling together and turning into a purple river. Knowing her people are exhausted, but still with much work to do, she addresses the army.

  "You have fought bravely and beautifully today, comrades. We have prevailed and it's because of your strength we were able to do it. I must ask you to be brave for a little while longer, my friends. We must march onto Libern. We have people to set free and we must beat Terhil, the leader of the Goblins, to do it."

  The crowd roars at her words, ready for the reign of the Goblins and their dark appetites to be over. Finally believing they could actually win.

  Mounted up, they ride to Libern, taking the Goblins by surprise, able to make it to the castle gates in moments.

  Marianne is cut down by a random arrow right as they ride through the gates.

  Justine, Nina, and Henriette weep over her, grabbing up her pike and tying her cockade around it and lead the charge. Furious and heartbroken over their slain leader, the people swarm the castle, cutting down every Goblin in sight, not giving them a chance to get a stroke in.

  The three right hand women circle Terhil on his throne of bones, each taking a grip of the pike and ram it through his face, right through the patch of hair above his upper lip.

  The people from the mines are released and join them on their trek back to camp. Marianne is driven back in a carriage. The dead are buried with honors and a beautiful canoe is built for Marianne, where she is placed on a bed of wood and set adrift in the river.

  The arches send flaming arrows through the twilight, setting alight the boat, setting free her spirit.

  Back in Paris, artists erect a sculpture of her. Her body covered in flowing Grecian gowns, her arm raised in victory holding an olive branch, sword strapped to her hips, her hair wreathed with flowers and birds, guarded by women with swords and torches.

  People from all over come to honor her memory and thank her for the freedom she won them.

  Thanking her for liberty.

  I'm half laughing and half crying when I reach the end. She put us in a book. And we got to kill Hitler and a lot of Nazis. Lore has eyes shining with tears and humor. Only a little is the fever.

  "Goblins are perfect as Nazis."

  I chuckle at Lore's comment. "Yes, they are."

  "I'm so glad she left this for us."

  "We'll make her finish it when this is all over. The adventures of those three girls aren't over yet. And you need to have an adventure yourself."

  Lore grins at me. "I'd like to kill Goblins."

  "I bet you would."

  Her body wracks with coughs, but she brushes off my hands feeling her face. "I'm fine, Just."

  "All right. All right. Sorry. I'm just worried about you."

  "Can you read it again?" Lore asks.

  I laugh. "One more."

  Or four more.

  We get to keep Henri with us for one more night.

  LORE HOLDS ON, HIDDEN in the back of the block, the other women helping to keep her safe. When I get back to the barracks the night after Henri leaves us, she's barely conscious, her breathing labored and the women who sleep below us bathing her with wet rags. They hand them over when I climb up beside her, drawing her head into my lap. It takes no effort to move her tiny body, her weight even lighter.

  Her eyes slit open and she tries to smile, but it trembles on her lips and fades away. "Can you tell me a story?"

  It takes me a moment to swallow the grief and rage to speak. "What kind of story?"

  "Anything. Something about...before. Before all this."

  The lump in my throat cuts off my air and everything in me shatters and bleeds, screaming for this not to be real. She has never gotten the chance to live. The only life she remembers is one of oppression, torment, and death. Like the little children who play Nazis and prisoners in the alleys around here. They've never had the chance to walk free in the sunlight.

  She can't die like this. She has to fight.

  I know the perfect story. "Once upon a time, there was a lonely little girl. She wanted to go to the vaudeville show so badly, but her family refused to take her, saying it's not the type of place they would go. The little girl doesn't listen though. While her family entertains company, she sneaks from the house and out to the show. It's filled with delicious smells: frying bangers, roasted nuts, fresh lemons. Different music trickles from different tents and the colors. The colors were mesmerizing. Women in their glittering fancy dresses, other children in fluffy pastels, performers wrapped in multicolored scarves and rags. Acrobats, singers, musicians, jugglers, animals, even people on motorcycles all perform.

  "But what draws the little girl is women boxing. She didn't know girls could do such things. Dressed in brightly colored dresses, their hands stuffed into puffy mitts, they stalk each other. To her eyes, the women's feet hardly ever touch the ground, so light and quick, circling and thrusting out jabs. It's an intricate dance, their movements graceful, almost fueled with magic. And just like that, the little girl falls in love, wanting nothing more than to learn how to dance their magic. So, she does. She makes friends with some children whose parents work for her family and they help teach her. And one day, she starts taking part in her own fights, the magic pouring itself into her." It is the most vivid memory left with me. It was one of the best days of my life.

  Lore's breathing is labored and she can't speak, but her eyes are lit with the slightest fire. A little hope swells. Maybe now she can fight this off. Maybe the magic of that night will reach down inside her and give her a little extra strength.

  The light in her eyes fade and her lids slide closed.

  "Lore?" I shake her. "Wake up, love. Stay with me. Fight. I need you to fight this. Please." Cracks slice through my soul and I bleed all over her. I should tell her it's all right. She can go. She can finally be at peace. She can escape this hell. But I can't say those words. I'm too sel
fish. I don't want to be left here alone, watching friend after friend die or leave me.

  Her breath is so weak I'm half certain I'm imagining it brush against the hand I hold in front of her mouth. No longer able to hold it in and be strong for her, the flood releases and I sob and sob and sob. Curled over her, hiding the wasted body with my own, tears baptizing her face. I press my lips against her forehead and scream so loudly inside I can't believe the windows don't shatter and the world doesn't crash down around us. I'm burning with fire and fury and it explodes from me, washing over both of us, leaving me with nothing but a dark void.

  Lore coughs and groans, my heart speeding up at the sound. I pull back from her and stare down in shock, the gasps of the women around me loud in my ears. Her face is rosy red and her eyes are open and bright no longer faded with illness. Even her body has filled out the slightest bit, no longer appearing so skeletal.

  Did I just heal her?

  She wriggles out from under me and sits up. "What was that? I feel so much better. I can breathe again."

  I crush her in my arms, my relief and happiness spilling over her.

  She's going to be all right.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  VIOLA

  Jade grabbed and tapped at least fifteen more people she knows as we made our way to her home. And each of them rush off to tap others. Panic is starting to suffocate me. There's too many people and I can't see a way clear.

  Wanting the comfort of her house, but needing a moment alone, I offer to grab food.

  Jade hands me a stack of bills, thick and crisp. "Whatever you can find. We have enough at the house, but a bit more won't hurt."

  Rivka eyes me with worry, but says nothing as I salute them and break away.

  The crowd lasts for miles, but eventually I fight my way free and can breathe again. The anxiety of the press of bodies melts away and I'm lighter and free to run. I'm fast enough now no one should notice me. If they do, they won't know what I am. The wind tastes of bread and liberty and I suck it down like water, letting it heal me. Fill up the holes in me.