by Amy Cross
I took a deep breath, and then I began to slowly creep forward. I was terrified that the soldier would hear me and turn around, but there were voices shouting commands in the distance and I was also aided by the rustling of nearby trees, which meant that I actually managed to sneak up behind the soldier and carefully take hold of his gun.
Suddenly he cleared his throat.
I froze, but he kept his back to me.
I looked around, and then I held the rifle up and prepared to bring it crashing down against the man's head.
Which is when I realized that, since he was wearing a helmet, knocking him out might not be so easy.
Damn it.
Again, I froze, with the gun raised but with no actual, actionable plan. I could have tried to shoot the guy, but I wasn't convinced that I could do that without him turning and stopping me, and I also wasn't convinced that I'd actually be able to pull the trigger. I looked at the back of his shoulders and told myself that a strong whack might be enough to knock him down. Then, if I moved quickly, I could hit him again and hopefully knock him out, especially if I could kick his helmet away.
I tried to think of another plan, but nothing came to mind.
Suddenly the soldier half turned, and then he leapt up and turned to look at me.
Instinctively, I turned the gun around and aimed it straight at his face.
“Don't move!” I hissed, keeping my voice low so that I wouldn't be heard by anyone else who happened to be nearby. “If you move, I'll... I'll blow you away!”
He raised his hands, and for the first time I saw that he was a young guy, maybe only in his early twenties. He also had a bandage covering his nose, which looked to have been recently broken.
“I don't want to hurt you,” I told him, before realizing that maybe he didn't even understand. “Do you speak English?”
He hesitated, and then he nodded.
“A little,” he said with a thick accent.
“I need to get out of here,” I explained, “and you're going to help me, or... I'll shoot you. I really will. I'm not afraid to use this thing.”
“I believe you,” he said, with his hands still raised. “Please don't do it.”
“What's the quickest route away from here?” I asked, before nodding toward the incline. “Down there?”
“That would do it,” he replied.
“And where would I end up?”
“There's a park, and it comes out near the river.”
“Okay,” I replied, “that sounds like my best bet.” I paused as I tried to work out what to do next. “You're going to come with me,” I told him.
“Why?”
“I can't leave you here,” I explained. “I'll let you go once I'm free, I promise, but until then I have to keep you as a hostage.”
“I don't want to be a hostage.”
“I don't want to have a hostage,” I told him, “but this isn't a day for getting everything we want. Now move!”
He hesitated, and then he turned and began to walk toward the incline. I followed, keeping the gun aimed at his back, and after a moment I saw that the incline ran sharply down toward some trees. Beyond that, there was an expanse of open green land that spread as far as a street, and then -
Suddenly the soldier turned and pushed the gun away, and then he threw himself at my chest. We both fell, landing in the mud, and then I somehow managed to roll on top of his as I grabbed the gun.
He shouted something in German, and then – as I tried to pull the gun away – he took hold of the other end and his finger pressed against the trigger. A shot rang out, and the soldier screamed in agony, and I pulled back just in time to see that his left foot had been blown away.
I grabbed the gun and turned to race down the incline, but in that moment I heard several clicking sounds and I turned to see that half a dozen soldiers had arrived and were aiming their guns straight at me.
I tried to think of a way out, and then I dropped the gun and slowly raised my hands as a sign of surrender.
Chapter Eighteen
Matthias
Stopping in the doorway, I looked through and saw immediately that the cell was empty. The metal bars had been moved aside, and the prisoner had been moved.
Hearing footsteps nearby, I turned just as a soldier wandered past with a gun slung over his shoulder.
“Where is this prisoner?” I asked, worried that maybe she'd been executed before I'd had a chance to speak to her.
“Moved,” he grunted, not even stopping.
I hurried over and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn to me.
“Hands off!” he snapped angrily, and then he took a step back. “Just because you things are given the run of the place, that doesn't mean you've got the right to touch me.”
“We things could each rip thirty of you apart in under a minute,” I sneered, and I could see the fear in the thug's eyes. “What happened to the prisoner? Where was she moved to?”
“She escaped,” he replied, “but they caught her again pretty quickly. After that, we were given orders to take her to a transport, and then she was driven off to Chateau Malafort.”
“Where's that?”
“It's Colonel Zieghoff's private residence, outside the city. It's where he takes his most valuable subjects. She'd have been moved there eventually anyway, but obviously after her escape he decided to speed things along.”
“Malafort,” I whispered. “I think maybe I have heard of that place after all. There are stories about the things he does to people there.”
“Stories are stories,” the soldier replied with a shrug. “I don't pay much attention, I just follow orders. All I know is that when people are taken to Chateau Malafort...”
“They don't tend to be seen again,” I said with a shudder. “Did you meet this prisoner before she was moved?”
“No, but I heard she was annoying. She also managed to shoot someone in the foot while she was trying to get away. If you ask me, we're better off without her around.” He smiled. “I'm sure she'll get what's coming to her at Chateau Malafort.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone and wondering just who this prisoner could be and why Zieghoff was so interested in her. All I knew for certain was that if she'd been taken to Chateau Malafort, she likely wouldn't be alive for much longer.
Chapter Nineteen
Chloe
“Where are you taking me?” I screamed, as I pulled once again on the ropes that tied me to a metal rail in the back of the truck. “I demand to speak to a lawyer!”
I heard the guards laughing, but this time I didn't turn to look at them. Their smug faces had already infuriated me, so I focused instead on trying desperately to twist my wrists out of the ropes. Finally, I felt one of the ropes starting to come loose a little, and a moment later my right hand sprung free.
Suddenly the butt of a gun slammed into the side of my face, knocking me back down. The truck bounced over a rough section of road as I felt my right hand being put back into a knot. I tried to cry out, but the gun had sent a cracking pain through my head and I could only close my eyes and sink into darkness as I heard more laughter nearby.
Chapter Twenty
Matthias
“You, my friend, look like a man who has a lot on his mind.”
Stirred from my thoughts, I turned and saw – with a mix of relief and mild displeasure – that a familiar figure was shuffling toward me across the lawn at the rear of the house. Clothed in the most unwieldy and old-fashioned garb, she could barely move under the weight of her dress, and I could tell from her expression that she was struggling. Not that she would ever admit such a thing, of course. It was her royal prerogative to remain graceful and serene at all times.
“Your Highness,” I said with a faint, tired smile. “I had forgotten that you sometimes take your afternoon constitutionals in this part of the city.”
“The weather has been terribly inclement of late,” Antoinette – or rather, Her Roya
l Highness Queen Antoinette the Third, to give her full title – replied. “You know, I don't mind the bombs too much, but the rain absolutely ruins my hair.”
“You wear a wig,” I muttered as she maneuvered herself onto the bench next to me.
She took a moment to adjust the many layers of her dress, and it was clear that she'd chosen to ignore my comment. In fairness, it had been an unkind remark on my part.
“Have you no courtiers with you today?” I asked. “Is it safe for you to be out alone?”
“My courtiers are busy with other matters,” she replied. “I have so few of them these days, which means that I have to prioritize their tasks. Of course, if the wretched government of this city paid more attention to my needs, I wouldn't be living in such a terrible state. Did you hear their latest suggestion? They want to turf me out of my lodgings on the Rue Saint-Fargeau. I reminded them of their promise to keep me in good quarters, and they suggested a small place near the river.”
“I'm sure the -”
“Under a bridge!” she added angrily. “Apparently there's a set of rooms that are accessed via a door under a bridge, and I am free to live there if I have nowhere else to go. Have you ever heard anything so disgraceful and disrespectful? I have written to Monsieur Petain and Monsieur Zieghoff, demanding some action, and if that does not work I shall be writing to Monsieur Hitler himself!”
“I'm not sure that I'd want to draw too much attention to myself, if I were you,” I muttered.
“You have something on your mind,” she replied. “I know you too well, Matthias, so don't lie to me. We've been friends for, what a couple of hundred years now? I've learned to read your eyes.” She paused. “What's her name?”
I turned to her.
“Is she pretty?” she asked. “Prettier than me?”
“Nobody's prettier than you,” I lied.
“Is she human?”
I hesitated, fully aware that any admission on this score would make me seem like a fool. Especially after all the occasions on which I had very drunkenly, and very publicly, shared my view that vampires and humans should not mix. Not socially, not intellectually, and certainly not romantically or sexually. Indeed, I found the dhampir concept to be utterly repulsive.
“Your own brother is involved with a human,” she continued, “so it's not entirely out of the blue. Plus, Matthias, I have always felt that you had a weakness for the less immortal species, despite your protestations to the contrary. Tell me a little about her. What's her name? How did you meet her?”
“I do not know her name,” I replied cautiously, “and I have not met her.”
“Then -”
“But she has arrived here as if from nowhere,” I added, “and she claims to know me. The crazy part is, I have felt for some time that this might happen, that someone or something was coming to me here in Paris. Hugo is hiding something from me, he wants us to leave the city tonight, and I am certain that this is because of the woman. On top of that, I think I have begun to share her dreams. Just slivers so far, but enough to suggest some kind of connection.”
“A connection you cannot possibly ignore.”
I nodded.
“Then I think the matter is settled,” she said with a sigh. “Go to her. Where is she now?”
“She has been taken to Chateau Malafort.”
As soon as I said that name, I saw a flicker of concern in Antoinette's eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then she looked away. I could tell, very clearly, that the mere mention of that place had shaken her to her core.
“Sometimes,” she said after a moment, “I think it is shameful for us to be drawn to these places. To wallow in the misery and horror of human civilization. We should be so much better than this, yet here we are, dancing and cavorting with the most awful killers and murderers that humanity has to offer. I think we even encourage them, sometimes. Men such as Zieghoff leave us alone, for the most part. They know they are not strong enough to come for us, so they go for lesser creatures, such as witches. Sometimes I worry, however, that the day will come when Zieghoff and his cronies turn on our species. That they might... find a way.”
“Impossible. We are immortal.”
“Not so, Matthias. You know there are ways to kill us.”
“Those methods are beyond the means of mortals.”
“For now, but what if -”
“You're getting carried away.”
“Am I?” She took a deep breath. Already, her eyes were filled with tears. “I worry about the humans and their growing thirst for dominion. It can't end well, you know.”
“There is only one real way for a vampire to die,” I pointed out, “and that is at the hands of another vampire.”
“I know.”
“Don't worry about Zieghoff,” I told her. “He can't hurt any of us.”
“But he can hurt this woman,” she pointed out.
“That is true.”
“So will you let him?”
“As I told you, I have never met her. I can hardly go bursting in to rescue a woman I don't know.” I paused. “At the same time, I feel that I cannot simply let this matter drop.”
“Then there's only one option,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You must go to Chateau Malfont and see her for yourself. You must determine whether or not she's worth rescuing.”
I looked out across the lawn, toward the distant buildings.
“And if she's not,” she added, “you can always come back and confess your undying love to me. We both know that it's only a matter of time.”
“I think you'll enjoy living under a bridge,” I replied after a moment. “After all, Antoinette, you've always been something of a troll.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe
“She'll talk soon enough,” a voice was saying as I began to stir from unconsciousness. “I often find that the harder they struggle, the faster they break.”
Opening my eyes, I found myself face-down on a dark, cobbled floor. I blinked a couple of times, and then I began to sit up, only to find that my wrists were bound tight to a metal ring that – in turn – was attached to the stone wall. I turned to look around, and it was at that moment that I realized I was naked.
“What the -”
“And she's awake,” a familiar voice said nearby. “How wonderful.”
Turning, I saw Klaus Zieghoff sitting on a wooden chair nearby.
“I was talking to myself,” he continued, as I pulled my knees up to cover my nakedness. “In English, you'll have noted. I thought it might be a way to stir your consciousness. Looks like I was right. Also, I get few opportunities to practice my English these days. I want to be ready, for when we inevitably take control of that ridiculous little island.”
Looking around, I realized that I was in a large stone room. There were benches at the far end, covered in various objects and tools that I couldn't quite make out.
“Forgive your current state,” Zieghoff continued, “but I thought it prudent to have you fully searched. And that was when I found this in one of your pockets.”
He held something up in his right hand, and I saw that he had some kind of ring topped with a blue jewel.
“A few things are starting to make sense now, Ms. Carter,” he continued. “This ring, for example, helps me to understand how you ended up traveling back here.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second, identical ring.
“They look similar, don't they?” he said with a faint smile. “Except, they're not similar at all. They're the exact same ring, existing twice in one place. I don't know about you, Ms. Carter, but I find that to be exceptionally interesting, and I have to ask how you came into possession of the ring in the first place?”
“I've never seen that thing before in my life,” I stammered, as I tried desperately not to panic. “Where am I? What are you going to do to me?”
“It was in your pocket.”
“I've never seen it before!�
� I screamed, before starting to pull on the metal ring. I struggled for a few seconds, before suddenly being overcome by a sense of hopelessness. “I have to wake up,” I whispered. “I want this nightmare to be over.”
“We were using the ring as a means of drawing a witch to us,” Zieghoff explained, “and in that sense it seems to have worked. The future version of the ring is marked with some scuffs, suggesting that it has been exposed to some form of energy. You, on the other hand, arrived in a fairly good condition. I look forward to finding out what type of energy might have triggered the ring, making it answer a call that it had made earlier in its existence.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I stammered, “but you have to let me go.”
He carefully set the two rings aside.
“I have rights!” I yelled.
“I have come to the conclusion that you are far more interesting than a mere witch,” he replied. “If I thought you were a witch, I'd have you on my surgical table by now. No, Ms. Carter, I think perhaps you really are just an ordinary woman after all.” He smiled. “Relax. That really removes any motivation for me to start cutting you up. I know full well what the inside of a human looks like.”
“Why am I here?” I asked again.
“Tell me about the future.”
“You lost!” I snapped angrily. “How's that for a start? You lost the war!”
“Impossible.”
“I don't know the details,” I continued. “I wish I'd paid more attention in school, but know you lost! And in Paris, in my time, people hate you!”
“You're trying to goad me,” he replied archly.
“You're seen as a monster!” I told him. “Your name is dragged through the mud, everyone knows the atrocities you committed! Not just you, either, but all your friends! The world has moved on from your evil. If you don't believe me, you don't have long to wait and see. The war ends in 1945 and that's when you go down in history!”
“1945?” he said after a brief pause. “Interesting.”