Aleksandra

by Heidi Vanlandingham

  "The end of all time," Natalya whispered.

  "There is another fate waiting for all of us if we don't stem this tide of war and chaos," Idunn added. "Under Hitler's Third Reich, Earth and its inhabitants will cease to be. He will kill all who oppose him or those he deems unfit to exist, leaving only the people he believes are the chosen. Under his rule, no one will remain who is strong enough to overthrow him and all war will stop...including the flow of power created by it."

  "And will bring about Ragnarok and the end of all time, as Natalya so succinctly put it," Freyja said. "This is why you are here, Aleksandra. You are a magnificent pilot and warrior. You make your mother's people proud. You are one of the best snipers I have seen and also have quite the ability to blend in and disappear when you so choose—a talent you've excelled at since you were a child, I believe."

  Aleksandra's gaze held Freyja's a moment before touching on Idunn's then finally Natalya's. "I hear a 'but' somewhere in there."

  Freyja smiled and nudged Idunn with her elbow. "Very intelligent as well."

  "Yes, I know. Just get on with it, please. I have a special fruit I need to attend to."

  "My proposal to you, Aleksandra, is the same deal I offered to Natalya. I do not want the Nine Worlds to end because of one megalomaniac such as Hitler. There are also several others in his circle who are just as dangerous. I would like to offer you a second chance at life. Fight for me. Help me stop Hitler and all the horrors he has yet to throw at the human race. Say yes and Idunn will grant you a new life."

  Freyja waited for her to say something, but Aleksandra didn't know what to tell the goddess, so she stayed silent. She didn't know what to make of any of this and wished she could pull Natalya off to the side and discuss things with her before making such a monumental decision.

  Freyja's gaze narrowed, seemingly studying Aleksandra's face. "Natalya, I believe you might be able to help Aleksandra. Why don't we go to Idunn's cottage? I will assist her with her fruit while the two of you talk."

  Natalya turned to Aleksandra and picked up her hands, lightly swinging them back and forth like they used to when one of them was upset. "I know this is all so strange and, truthfully, unbelievable. I mean, who knew gods and goddesses were real? I believe I can help you understand all this, if you let me."

  She stared at Natalya, wide-eyed, unsure what to say. Could any of this be real? Should she listen to what her friend had to say? More importantly, how had Freyja known what she was thinking?

  "Aleksandra?" Natalya asked with a slight frown, her bi-colored eyes darkening with worry.

  2

  Lithuania

  One month earlier, June 1943

  The small group, three men and one woman, sat around the table in the dank basement of a farm halfway between the Lithuanian towns of Minsk and Vilna. Jakob Matthau's gaze moved around the dirty room. From the piles of grasses and hay along the walls, he could only assume the owner housed his animals down here. They were lucky it was only the musty odor of mold. From experience, it could have been much worse.

  He glanced back to the unknown woman, unsure if he could trust her or not. Halyna Kolisnyk, or König, if he used her German-given name, was their new Resistance contact. She looked nothing like a partisan soldier. Upon their arrival, Bernard, the leader of their small unit, informed them she was a dancer.

  Not that he knew what a dancer was like, but she wasn't at all what he pictured. Her red hair was pulled up in a braided twist on top of her head, and she was thin and elegant, her movements regal. He noticed her dress was the style his mother had worn before the war began so she wasn't rich. He wondered what the importance was for her dancing troupe to travel across war-torn countries to entertain the German soldiers. Why did they do it? Why would they?

  Could he trust her with his, Bernard's, and Mikhail's lives?

  "The information I bring was difficult to come by and good men died," Miss Kolisnyk said.

  "We understand, Halyna. Too many good men and women have died for the cause, but they would all tell you, stopping Hitler is worth any cost," Bernard Marchand said, patting her hand. Bernard knew how to talk to people, which explained why he was their leader. That, and he was an amazing strategist. Jakob could hold his own planning battles, maybe even a bit better, but he didn't converse with anyone. Not if he could help it.

  Once again, his gaze moved away, studying the basement room. He caught Mikhail Abramovich's dark stare, holding it a moment before turning away. Jakob had the familiar churning in his stomach telling him something wasn't right, and he wanted to be prepared. Bernard had vouched for both the farm and the woman, but they'd been held up by a German scout patrol just outside of Minsk, so he hadn't been able to check things out like he wanted. The short time before their meeting, he'd used it to take note of the open area where the house and large barn sat, separated by a good-sized yard and animal pens. He vaguely remembered being told the farmer cared for sheep.

  The quick glimpse he had of the inside of the three-hundred-year-old stone house showed it had been clean and well-cared for. A single door to the basement was located next to the kitchen fireplace and had been open, as if welcoming them...or warning them. The churning grew, and his hand gripped the rifle he held on his lap.

  "As you know, the Germans are battling for the Russian town of Kursk. They have introduced two new tanks to their arsenal, both with the capability of taking out the Soviet T-34s with ease. The Panzer V has a 75-mm long-barreled, high-velocity gun that can penetrate the T-34 without difficulty. The armor is 80-mm thick at the front, increasing the sides and rear to 40-45 mm, and it is sloped so shells ricochet off without much damage. It has a 12-cylinder, 700-horsepower engine that will reach a top speed of 45 km per hour. We believe it is superior to the American's Sherman tanks as well as the T-34."

  "Not what we wanted to hear," Mikhail muttered. "Not good news at all."

  Bernard took off his cap and ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair in frustration. "No, it's not."

  "Unfortunately, the second tank is worse," Halyna said. "The Tiger tank is the largest armored combat vehicle ever made. The Germans exchanged survivability and firepower for range, reliability, and speed. It is fifty-five tons and its frontal steel has a thickness of 100-mm. The side and rear armor is 60-80 mm thick. It, too, has a long-barreled, high-velocity 88-mm gun and is able to penetrate the most heavily armored Soviet tanks at an extremely long range."

  "That's worse," Bernard grumbled.

  Halyna leaned toward Bernard, apprehension on her face. "Your unit is heading for Kursk, no?"

  "We are. As soon as we leave here, we're supposed to rendezvous with two other groups."

  "There are rumors of another German army—a very special unit—that is even now on their way. If I hadn't read the reports myself, I would never have believed it possible..."

  Beside Jakob, Mikhail's body tensed, which was unusual for the Russian. He was known for his calm, no matter the situation, which was why Jakob liked him. From what he'd seen over the last few months, this reaction was totally out of character for him.

  "You are talking about the beasts?" Mikhail asked. His tone was low and steady, but Jakob heard the brief hesitation before the man voiced the question. Were the Germans training some kind of animal to attack? He wouldn't put it past them.

  Halyna's fearful gaze met Mikhail's. She nodded. "Yes."

  Mikhail muttered in a language Jakob wasn't familiar with, but the mixture of fear and anger was there, underlying each word.

  "This is what you were telling me about, isn't it?" Bernard asked.

  "Yes. If they are, in fact, on the move, then we're in trouble. Our men cannot stand up against them." He rubbed his neck where, for the first time, Jakob noticed a series of four scars running from his hairline and disappearing beneath his coat collar. Jakob frowned. They looked suspiciously like rakes from a large claw. Without thinking, he reached over and, with his finger, pulled the collar down lower to get a better glimpse.


  His gaze met Mikhail's, his gray eyes almost glowing silver in the room's dim yellow light. "How?" From the pain and quick glimpse of fear he saw in the other man's eyes, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

  "On my last mission, Natalya and I discovered something—terrifying. We were investigating Hitler's Fuhrerhauptquartier Werwolf near Vinnytsia, Ukraine. We uncovered an underground laboratory where the commandant, Sturmbannführer Uralt Betrüger, as we found out later, has been conducting medical experiments under the supervision of Himmler. Himmler is trying to come up with the perfect soldier and, in my opinion, has succeeded. He is changing men into animals. You would know them from myths as werewolves."

  Jakob stared at Mikhail. Surely, the man was joking. Or he was crazy. He turned his gaze to Halyna then Bernard, but both of them nodded.

  "Jakob," Mikhail said. He waited for Jakob to turn back to him before continuing. "I have seen them with my own eyes. The guards discovered us, and Betrüger threw me in one of the underground cells next to several other soldiers. They warned me—told me what was going to happen, but I didn't believe them. Not until I was thrown into a ring with one of the beasts. I barely survived and won't go into how I was saved, but I was. If these monsters are let loose on the armies...” The tall man shuddered.

  "That is not all," Halyna said. "There are also confirmed reports of prisons springing up all over Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Germany. These places are not like the ghettos or work camps. These are extermination camps with a sole purpose. To kill. The horrors that have been reported..." Tears filled her eyes. "Thousands of people are being taken to the locations, many of the old and sick, as well as the children, are gassed while the healthy and strong are sent elsewhere and worked to death. They are living in conditions so unsanitary and have no food or water. We must find a way to stop this from continuing. More and more innocent people are dying, simply because they are not German."

  Her words cut through Jakob's heart like a knife, bringing back his past with a rush of emotion he thought he'd locked away. Images of his own family appeared in his mind. His pretty mother, laughing with his father over something he'd said. She always made sure both he and his father had whatever they needed, whether it was food, clothing, or love.

  He stared down at the rifle in his lap, his knuckles white against the dark stained wood, remembering the day he'd vowed to save them from the camp where they'd been taken. Imprisoned in Sachsenhausen for helping a Jewish family. Everything he'd done since and continued to do was in order to free his parents from the horrors they faced. Halyna's words only strengthened his vow. The oppression he'd felt moments before returned, stronger this time, giving him a sense of urgency.

  "You feel it, too?" Mikhail asked in a low voice.

  Jakob nodded once. "Bernard, we must leave." He caught his leader's questioning gaze. "Now."

  A loud commotion sounded above them. The banging of several doors and a sharp thud, as if something large had been pushed against a wall. Jakob ignored Halyna's gasp as he leapt from the chair and stared at the top of the stairwell.

  "The door's been shut." He heard the clicking of the lock as it sealed them in the basement. "And locked." His gaze missed nothing as he studied the walls, rows of stone blocks supporting the house's foundation. The floor had been constructed from the same material, just smaller. Narrowing his gaze, he walked along the far wall, slowly making his way to the back corner. Near the top row, he caught the subtle winking of light, hopefully, from outside.

  Glancing at his wristwatch, he noted the time was close to dusk. He flipped his gaze to the piles of hay he'd assumed were for the farmer's livestock before returning to the wall. Walking closer, he noticed the chiseled rocks were different from the others. There was no mortar in an almost three-foot expanse. He studied it for a few minutes, picking up muted sounds from outside. Faint German words could be heard as someone hollered, ordering a quick search of the house and barn before they camped for the night.

  He turned to face the others and walked back to the table. "Looks like we're stuck for a few hours at least. Nazi soldiers have commandeered the farm," he said in a low voice. Overhead, heavy boots clomped across the wooden floor, systematically moving from room to room as they searched the house. He held a finger against his lips as the footsteps neared the basement door.

  No one breathed as they all listened to the slamming of cabinet doors and muffled commands to start cooking the soldiers' dinner. Jakob closed his eyes, straining his ears to hear what the Nazi commander said. What he heard didn't make him feel better. He waited for the sounds of the meal preparation to begin, drowning out his own voice, before he talked. Even then, he stayed still a few minutes longer, just to be certain.

  "They are camping here for the night. The officers will use the bedrooms while the rest of the soldiers sleep in the barn. The farmer and his wife were warned to stay inside so the guards wouldn't mistake them for the enemy.” His gaze met Bernard's. "I found a possible way out, but we'll need to wait until after midnight to leave."

  Mikhail frowned as he glanced around the single room. "I see no door to the outside. Where is this exit?"

  Jakob pointed to the back corner. "I wondered how they got the sheep into the basement. The stones there have no mortar." Mikhail turned to look at the piles of hay. His brows rose. "I must be losing my touch because I never noticed—hadn't paid much attention to the hay either."

  "No, you're just worried about your pretty wife." Bernard clapped Mikhail on the back and used the mounds of straw as a makeshift bed. "Might as well try to get a few hours of sleep."

  Bernard slept while the others waited, passing the time by sharing stories. All but Jakob. He never talked about his past or who he'd been before the war. All anyone needed to know was how much he hated the Nazis and their ideology. Still, he paid attention, learning a bit more about the two men he fought alongside; the small pieces they shared of their lives gained even more of his respect. He knew Bernard's story, but once the man awoke, Jakob listened anyway.

  "I disobeyed my father," Bernard said. "To his horror, I attended school in England, not France, where I was approached by someone from the government's MI6 division. Unwilling to pass up the chance at a bit more excitement before settling down to a humdrum life, I joined. We trained hard, learning the finer points of espionage, which I discovered I excelled at. My first mission was to rescue as many English and French soldiers who were trapped by the German army at Dunkirk. I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time and was unable to reach the last ship, so I stayed." He grinned with a nonchalant shrug.

  "I stumbled across a small Machis resistance unit scouting the area and decided to join them. As we moved from camp to camp, I relayed information back to England as we made our way east. I made it to a small mountain town near the French border, Philippsbourg, and discovered the Resistance was using an extensive tunnel system to get from one place to another without the Germans discovering them. Ingenious, really. I made it to Poland but was ambushed."

  He met Jakob's gaze. "Jakob found me there. Without his help, I probably would have died of my wounds. I'd been shot in the upper shoulder and thigh. My leg wound wouldn't stop bleeding and by the time he discovered me, I'd passed out from loss of blood. I've been stuck with his witty personality ever since." He chuckled, the low sound helping to dispel the growing sense of doom permeating the basement.

  Mikhail grinned. "We, too, have had our fun. And near misses, haven't we, moy drug."

  "What did you just call him?" Halyna asked.

  "I said 'my friend' in Russian. Mostly, I grew up in Russia but traveled Europe with my family. My father was an accomplished pianist, and my mother is Russian Romani. My father is a French Jew. We were arrested in France and placed in Montreuil-Bellay. I managed to escape and, with Bernard's help and training, joined the Resistance."

  Halyna's blue gaze dropped to the ring on Mikhail's left hand. "And your wife? Where is she?"

  "While I'm here, s
he's staying with people I trust more than anyone in the universe," he said, his tight-lipped expression almost secretive.

  Jakob wondered what he meant but left it at that. People were allowed their secrets, unless the secret endangered others. Like him, Bernard trained Mikhail as well in guerrilla-style warfare. He had known Mikhail almost as long as he had Bernard and partnered up with the Russian every chance he got. They were very much alike. Not only did Mikhail not talk much, but he also seemed to have a sixth sense. The secretive man always knew when something was about to happen, whether good or bad. Jakob did too, just not as often as Mikhail. Sometimes, he swore the man performed magic.

  When Halyna began talking, his mind turned to their surroundings. He listened to the movements upstairs and from the different-sounding shoe treads, counted at least five different people above them. He wished there was a way to see what they faced outside but, at the same time, was glad there were no windows—no one could see inside their hiding place.

  Finally, Bernard stretched with a wide-mouthed yawn. "My nap was not nearly long enough. We should try to get some shuteye. Never know when we'll be able to sleep again." He twisted his wristwatch to face the light then glanced over to where Jakob leaned against the wall, close to the stairwell leading upstairs. "Take the first watch and wake me in an hour. Mikhail will take the last watch before we head out. Do you think we will be able to remove the stones without anyone hearing us?"

  Jakob nodded but didn't say anything. He waited for them to fall asleep before walking to the back wall. He stared at it for a couple of minutes then laid his palm on one of the stones. One corner of his mouth rose. He moved his hand to a mortared stone then back to the unmortared butted up beside it. His grin widened. He'd guessed correctly. The farmer had made a false wall. Now, he could only hope the hinges were well oiled.

  He kept guard for the next two and a half hours, letting Bernard and Mikhail get some much-needed rest. None of them had had much over the last week, but those two less than him. He had gotten used to catching ten to twenty minutes here and there and wasn't sure he even could sleep for any length of time anymore.