by Amy Cross
Figuring that – for now at least – she seemed to be absolutely fine, I stepped around her play area and began to make my way across the room. My footsteps rung out in the huge, cold space, and I'd long ago given up on the idea of retaining any element of surprise. Besides, I knew that Matthias had most likely sensed me coming, so there was no real need to stay quiet. As I got closer to the steps at the foot of the throne, I aimed the flashlight toward him but not directly at his face. I'd traveled a long way to find him. The last thing I wanted was to be rude.
“Hey,” I said finally, stopping just before the first step.
I waited.
He stared at me with a calm, dour expression.
“Hey,” he said after a few more seconds' pause. “What are you doing here?”
“Normal things,” I replied. “Looking for you. Running from the Nazis. Trying to find a way to travel forward in time. Why, what are you doing here?”
He hesitated, and for a moment I thought perhaps he wasn't going to answer.
“Normal things,” he said finally. “Brooding. Contemplating mass slaughter. Trying to decide whether I should let the child live or...”
His voice trailed off.
“She's a nine-year-old girl,” I told him firmly. “There's not really much doubt about that one. I'm getting her out of here.”
“I've been watching her for a while now,” he replied. “Days, maybe a week. I still can't work out whether or not her life has any value. I keep thinking that of course it doesn't, that she's just a weak, fragile sack of meat and bones, that killing her would be no greater sin than killing -”
“A mayfly?” I suggested, remembering one of our earlier conversations.
“Ah,” he replied, “so you do listen to me sometimes.”
“You wouldn't kill her,” I told him.
“Are you so sure of that?”
“You haven't done it yet.”
“That's the thing.” He leaned forward slightly, while remaining on the throne. I kept the flashlight's beam trained on the wall close to his face, so that I could see his features. “Sometimes I think that she's worthy of life,” he continued, “that it matters whether she lives here. The whole back and forth is deeply frustrating. I just wish that I could pick an answer and get on with it.”
“It seems to me that you've already picked one,” I told him. “She's still alive and healthy. The very fact that you didn't kill her already proves that you think it's worth letting her live.”
“But I haven't released her yet, either,” he pointed out. “No matter what you might think, I haven't made my decision.”
“Maybe she'll make it for you,” I replied, “and run.”
“No, that's not possible. Any time she goes near one of the external doors, I draw her back to this room. She's a child, I can keep her under control without really thinking about it at all. I just watch her, day after day, and I try to decide whether there's any real point to her.” He stared past me, looking at Genevieve for a moment longer. “I want to believe that there is,” he added, with a thoughtful tone to his voice, “but I'm having real trouble with that.”
I waited for him to finish, but it was clear that he meant what he was saying. Still, this was at least some kind of improvement. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been firmly of the opinion that all humans were worthless.
“So Hugo and I defeated Zieghoff,” I said finally. “We saved Judith, too.”
“Yes, I heard rumors that something rather unfortunate had happened to Zieghoff. Or fortunate, depending on one's point of view.”
“You didn't think to wonder where we were?”
“I knew you'd show up eventually.”
“Thanks, that's very -”
“Michelle died,” he added, furrowing his brow slightly. “She was shot by a soldier. It was her death that made me start to question my beliefs. As she lay dying, I felt something I never expected to feel. Not for a human, at least. I felt... sorrow.”
“I'm sorry,” I replied. “I tried to trace her, but that kind of thing's almost impossible with the war raging. She was tough, but she was fighting for what she believed in.”
I waited for him to say something, but he once again seemed lost in thought.
“So you came here,” I continued, “to a monastery.”
“Not intentionally. I just sort of wandered in this direction.”
“Hugo thought that maybe -”
“I don't need to know what my brother thinks or does,” he replied, before hesitating for a moment. “Why? Amuse me, tell me what he's up to.”
“He's trying to figure out why the ring brought me back in time,” I explained. “We've been in Paris for a while, but he's been talking a lot about going to London. When I came down here, he and Judith headed north. They should be arriving in England any day now. I told them that I'd go after them as soon as I'd found you. I told them I'd bring you with me.”
“Why would you tell them something like that?”
“Because we need you, Matthias! You can't just walk away from everything!”
“Can't I?”
“I know you!” I snapped. “In the future, I mean. I can see it in your eyes, even now! You're not a bad person. You care about people, even humans. You can deny it all you want, as vehemently as you want, for whatever reason you want, but I know you, Matthias!” I took a step toward him. “You're not a monster!”
He stared at me for a moment.
“Perhaps you're right,” he replied slowly, as he began to slowly rise from his seat. “Perhaps...”
And then, as his voice began to trail off, I heard a faint choking sound over my shoulder. I froze for a moment, telling myself that I had to be wrong, but then I heard a pained gasp and I turned just in time to see that Genevieve was clutching her throat as she slumped down against the floor.
“Matthias, no!” I shouted. “Matthias! Stop!”
Chapter Four
Hugo
The storm had gathered strength by the time we reached the English shore. We landed on a remote stretch just south of Deal, near a village named Kingsdown. We'd managed to evade all the boats along the way, thanks to my ability to redirect the attention of the various lookouts. As I'd rowed us past the various vessels, I'd reached out and gently persuaded men on both sides to turn and look the other way. The journey had been tense and rough, and Judith had clearly been terrified, but we had arrived.
Now a light was coming toward us along the beach, heralding the arrival of the man Antoinette had promised would meet us.
“Let's never do that again,” Judith said, leaning against the side of the boat and clutching her belly. “Hugo, I think I'm going to be sick.”
“Don't worry about that,” I replied, “you won't have -”
Before I could finish, she doubled over and vomited.
“It was rough,” I conceded, wincing slightly. “I'm sorry about that.”
Hearing footsteps on the pebbles, I turned to see that the contact – a man code-named Beach Boy – had arrived.
“Are you Cooper?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, knowing full well that he'd been instructed to give that incorrect name at the start of our encounter. “Bane.”
“Then we're all in the right place,” the man said, lowering his lantern and stepping toward me. He seemed to be a jovial enough fellow. “I have food and fresh clothes waiting for you in the Zetland. After that, I've got strict instructions to get you to London. Doctor Alistair Russell is expecting you.”
“We must waste no further time,” I instructed him, “nor -”
Again, suddenly, Judith vomited, this time letting out the most terrible groan.
“The crossing was a little difficult,” I told Beach Boy.
“I'm amazed you made it at all,” he replied, looking out at the darkness of the English Channel. “Then again, I know that... people such as yourselves... I mean...”
His voice trailed off.
“Vampires?” I suggested.
“It's none of my business, Sir,” he replied hastily, clearly aware that he'd allowed the conversation to stray.
“You're right about that,” I told him. “You're to take us to Doctor Russell's home at once, and there are to be no stops along the way. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely, Sir. The journey should only take two or three hours.”
“Then let's go,” I said, grabbing the bag from the boat and turning to walk away. “We need to -”
Suddenly Judith vomited again, this time dropping to her knees.
“I'm sorry!” she gasped. “My stomach can't handle rough seas!”
“As soon as she feels better,” I muttered darkly, as Judith continued to vomit, “we shall depart. There's absolutely no time to waste.”
Chapter Five
Chloe
“I've made a terrible mistake,” Matthias said darkly, as we stopped at the large wooden door, preparing to leave the monastery. “I should -”
“No,” I replied, “you've done the right thing.”
Turning, I saw that Genevieve was standing right behind us. She was staring at me with a hint of fear in her eyes, but I had no idea how to console her. After everything I'd learned, after everything Matthias had told me, I figured there was no way some complete stranger could have a chat with the kid and set everything straight. I could only hope that there would be people in her life, going forward, who would be able to help her.
“I still don't entirely understand,” Matthias muttered. “I chose to choke her precisely because I considered her life to have value. I wanted to end her suffering. If I didn't care about her, I'd have been happy to let her live on in misery.”
“There are other ways to help her,” I pointed out, still reeling somewhat from everything that had happened. “It's complicated, huh? It's not always easy to know what is and isn't the right thing.”
“Humans make it complicated,” he replied. “At least with vampires, one always knows where one stands.”
“If you say so,” I replied under my breath. “Now follow my lead, okay? Ignore your instincts and let me deal with this. It's a rather... delicate situation.”
“It doesn't have to be.”
“I need you to be subtle!”
“I already agreed to be subtle,” he said with a sigh. “You don't have to nag.”
Rolling my eyes, I opened the heavy door and then stepped outside, with Matthias and Genevieve just a few paces behind. The monks were all gathered on the lawn, waiting for us to emerge, and after a moment I spotted Genevieve's parents standing a little way back. There was a palpable gasp as Genevieve appeared, and then the girl's mother rushed forward and dropped to her knees, hugging her tight.
“Are we to be left alone now?” one of the monks asked, his voice stiff with terror at the sight of Matthias.
“I'm done here,” Matthias replied dismissively, as if the matter was of no great importance. “You can have your wretched hovel back.”
Several of the monks began to pray, and some of them even dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
“Thank you!” Genevieve's mother sobbed, looking up at me as she continued to hug her daughter. “There were times when I thought we might have lost her forever!”
“She's a lovely girl,” I replied, as the father came toward us. “You have to look after her.”
“Oh, we will,” the mother said, “I promise. We'll never let anything bad happen to her ever again! We'll take her home and -”
Suddenly a scream rang out, and I turned to see Genevieve's father dropping to his knees as blood sprayed from his torn throat. His eyes were bulging from their sockets, and he quickly toppled over and began to twitch violently on the grass. Matthias, meanwhile, was looming over him, and I couldn't help but notice that there was blood all over his right hand.
“What did you do?” I shouted.
“I dealt with the problem,” he replied.
“I told you to be subtle!”
“This is me being subtle. After what I found out he'd been doing to his daughter, that man deserved to be torn apart slowly, muscle by muscle, over the course of several days. I thought you'd be pleased that I listened to your advice.”
I stared at the father for a moment, but he was already spluttering his last few breaths, and after a moment he fell still. Turning, I saw that the mother – while still holding Genevieve tight – was staring at her husband's corpse but showed no great signs of distress. In some respects, she even looked relieved.
“We know what your husband was doing to her,” I said, still horrified by everything Matthias had told me, by the awful truth that he'd drawn from the girl's mind. “I don't agree with his method of dealing with the problem, but at least now Genevieve is safe. You must have had some suspicions about what was happening. I'm sorry, I...”
My voice trailed off.
A moment later, hearing footsteps nearby, I turned and saw that the monks were all rushing into the monastery. After the last of them had made it inside, the door slammed shut, and then I heard more footsteps going in the opposite direction. Sure enough, I turned just in time to see Genevieve's mother racing toward the forest, carrying her daughter in her arms.
“I thought things would be easy once I accepted that human lives are worthwhile,” Matthias said after a few seconds. “So far, that is not proving to be the case. Why can't you people keep things simple?”
“Maybe we're not built like that,” I replied, turning to him. “You might have noticed that we're fighting a pretty huge war right now. Do vampires not have wars?”
“You'd be surprised,” he said. “There are things you know nothing of, Chloe. There are wars that would make this little human conflagration seem like no more than a bar-room brawl. The fact that you humans have never even heard the great names of Gothos and Idella is pathetic. You're so busy with your own trivial lives, you can't even comprehend the true battles that have been fought out there in the ether.”
“Trivial lives?” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Habit.”
“I have to get back to Hugo,” I told him. “The last time I spoke to him, he insisted that he was close to a breakthrough, that he just needed the help of one particular contact who'd be able to confirm whether he was right or wrong in his suspicions. He wouldn't tell me much, he said there was no need unless he could be absolutely certain, but... Matthias, I don't know your brother very well, but I swear he seemed almost... scared of what he'd discovered.”
“My brother does not scare easily,” he replied. “He's a man of science.”
“Then that's even more worrying,” I continued, “because one night I saw him staring at the ring, muttering away to himself, and I swear it was almost as if he was praying.”
Matthias hesitated, clearly struggling to accept that such a thing could be true.
“We should get going,” he said finally, stepping over the corpse on the ground and leading me toward the horse. “Remember to hold tight as we ride. Last time, I could feel you almost slipping every few seconds.”
“Actually,” I replied, hurrying around the dead body and making my way to the horse, taking care to get there first, “I've had plenty of practice lately. You're the one who needs to hold on tight, because you're the one who's going to be riding further back. Jean the horse and I have a real connection.”
“Are you trying to prove some kind of point?” he asked.
“I guess that's part of it. Now climb on, because we've got a long ride ahead of us before we reach Antoinette. She's going to help us.”
“And where exactly are we going, again?”
“I already told you.” I paused for a moment, feeling a shudder of nervousness run through my chest. “We have to catch up to Hugo and Judith. We have to go to London.”
Chapter Six
Hugo
Two days later...
A grandfather clock rang far off in the house, as I stood close to the firep
lace and turned the blue ring between two fingers. Its edges caught the light from the roaring fire, and I had to admit that it was a beautiful thing. Beautiful not only in terms of its appearance, but also in terms of its power. And if it was what I now believed it to be, it would also be beautiful in terms of its horrendous meaning.
“Hugo?”
I glanced toward the door, just as Judith came through.
“Doctor Russell says he'll be up shortly,” she explained. “He's been a very good host. Nothing seems to be too much trouble. Has he helped you, Hugo?”
“He's researching a few possibilities,” I said as she made her way over to me. “He's an expert when it comes to certain artifacts. Very few humans know anything about the other worlds, about what's beyond their own petty squabbles. As much as it pains me to admit this, right now Alistair Russell is the best expert mind I can access. I only pray that he'll tell me that I'm wrong.”
“You want to be wrong?”
“About this ring? Yes.”
“Why?”
I hesitated, as I looked down at the ring again.
“There's something you're not telling me,” Judith continued. “Hugo, I know I don't understand everything about your world, and about your past, but I'd like to at least be able to help ease your burden.” She looked at the ring for a moment. “Is this tiny little thing really responsible for bringing Chloe back in time?”
“Certainly,” I replied. “That part is beyond doubt.”
“How? And why?”
“Those are two very difficult questions to answer,” I said, as Big Ben began to chime in the distance, ringing out to mark 10pm. Evidently Doctor Russell's own clock was running a little early. “The ring is the missing part of the puzzle. I need to understand it, in order to determine precisely what role it's playing in these events.”
“And then are you confident you can send Chloe back to where she came from?”
I turned to her, surprised by the question.
“You are going to help her get back, aren't you?” she continued. “Hugo, she sacrificed a chance to get home when she saved me. We have to help her!”