Even amid the chaos, the gore and terror formed crisp memories in Geist’s mind. She knew she would never forget this horror—the twitch of the dogs’ muscles and the prisoners’ agonized screams would sting in her memory forever, a nightmare unending.
Gunshots rang throughout the building in volleys of three. Geist glanced over her shoulder and spotted Blick, Dreamer, and Battery on the other side of the room, their rifles in hand. The bullets pierced the dogs, but did not kill them. Instead, the enraged animals shifted their attention to the newcomers and ran towards them, leaving the remaining hostages behind.
Through sheer reflex, Geist jumped for the closest hellhound and plunged her ghosted arm straight through the center of its chest. When she released her sorcery to pull to out, white-hot agony shot up her arm. For a brief second her whole being felt tainted—the same taint and burn she experienced from the GH Gas—and the feeling sent shivers through her body.
Despite the pain, Geist jerked her arm back and ripped out a fistful of lung. The dog choked and gurgled black blood as it collapsed into the fetal position, its feet kicking feebly as it bled out.
Vergess touched the dog ripping his clothing to shreds, his fingers grazing its maw and nose. Vergess’s rot took hold, not as fast as with the German sorcerer, but enough that the animal could sense its own impending doom. The beast leapt off and slammed its face against the floor, almost as if trying to rub off the corrosive magic eating through its hide and bones.
While the other monster dogs ran at the team, Vergess got to his feet and dashed to the opposite end of the room. He rushed for Dietrich, no doubt looking to finish the fight. She held her breath and ran for her brother, using all hers and Battery’s combined power.
Dietrich—flee! For the love of God, flee!
Trembling, Dietrich pressed himself harder against the wall. Had his focus failed him? Couldn’t he use his sorcery to ghost through? Geist had seen him accomplish this many times before. But all he did was stare, wide-eyed, as Vergess closed the distance.
Geist reached Dietrich the same moment Vergess went for her brother’s throat.
“Stop!” Geist shouted.
She ran her ghosted hand through Vergess’ shoulder, startling him. He gritted his teeth and jerked his hand away from Dietrich, rubbing at the spot Geist had made contact.
Dropping her invisibility, Geist stood between Vergess and her younger brother. She couldn’t let him die. Even if he was the enemy. “The dogs!” she snapped. “Kill the dogs! I’ll take care of this one.”
She sounded crazy, she knew—it was plain to see on Vergess’s flabbergasted face—but in the brief moment of conflict, Dietrich found his focus. He ghosted backward, shifting through the wall of the museum, escaping before Vergess could destroy him.
Vergess stared down at Geist, his pale blue eyes piercing her.
“Why?” he murmured thickly.
“He’s my brother,” she replied, shaken.
The cacophony of war sank away with each heartbeat.
Ice ran through her veins, but Geist didn’t look away. Vergess already knew everything. Her secret, her family… But she knew she would be branded a spy and a traitor for allowing an enemy sorcerer to escape, no matter who he was to her.
The punishment for such an act was death.
The gunfire stopped. Geist glanced over and saw the rest of her team standing over the corpses of the last three dogs—Blick with his rifle, one boot poised on a corpse. The beasts decayed and melted away, their bodies slipping back into the void from whence they came.
Vergess took her by the shirt collar and shook hard, forcing Geist to meet his gaze.
“You said you weren’t a traitor,” he growled under his breath. “You said you didn’t have ties to your family.”
“I don’t,” Geist said, staring up at him, pleading with her eyes to impart the truth. “I didn’t know Dietrich would be here. I swear. It was instinct, me protecting him, and—”
“What’s going on?” Blick asked, his voice loud enough to echo throughout the room.
Blick and Dreamer jogged over and went to the hostages, but their gaze stayed glued to Blick.
The hostages hollered through the gags and flinched away.
“We’re not Germans,” Battery said, untying the first man he came across. “We’re with the Ethereal Squadron. We’re here to help you.”
The mere mention of the squadron seemed to relax the captives. They moved to allow their hands and feet to be unbound and those with the energy began to speak.
“Please,” one man said, an acute desperation in his voice. “There’s a chateau outside of town. Chateau Coppens. We must make it there. We must—”
“Not until we handle this,” Blick stated, cutting the man off.
The hostages fell silent. Battery stood and glared, his gaze shifting between Vergess and Geist. “We need to get these people to safety. Vergess, what’re you doing to Geist?”
“Vergess let one of the enemy sorcerers escape,” Blick said, his gold eyes fixed on the confrontation. “And then he started manhandling Geist. I’ll say it one more time: What’s going on?”
Geist’s mind raced. So Blick had seen everything, but hadn’t heard her orders to Vergess. What could she say to save herself? She was safe for now, but the moment Vergess opened his mouth she’d be found out.
“Vergess wouldn’t let the enemy escape,” Battery said. “He wouldn’t do that.”
The other men just stared.
Victory appeared, heading straight for the men and women hostages and helped with the last of their bindings. He withdrew a serrated knife from his tunic and sliced through the restraints with ease, calming those who shook and offering his jacket to one of the women.
The hostages murmured thanks, but their voices were strained and their faces pale. When Victory attempted to get them to stand, most shook their heads and revealed their bare feet.
Nails had been driven through the arches of each foot, hobbling the Belgian sorcerers and preventing them from using their magic. Focus through torture—it was impossible without a well-trained mind. In this state, all but the most powerful sorcerers would be no better than a civilian.
“We need to help these people leave,” Victory said.
“Then I’ll make this quick,” Blick replied, hefting his rifle. “Explain what’s going on, Wilhelm, or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”
Vergess kept his hold on Geist’s collar, his gaze never leaving hers. She had nothing to say. Her claims were made. All Vergess had to do was tell them everything and her career and life would be over.
I’m not a traitor to the Ethereal Squadron. If Dietrich had attacked us, I would’ve retaliated, but…
But that doesn’t change what I’ve done.
“Vergess has got nothing to say,” Blick said. “He’s a traitor. We knew it all along. He’s here to help the Austrians.”
Geist shook her head. “It’s not true.” Her voice faltered, shaken through frustration. The fighting had been intense and horrific, straining her mental state.
“Then what happened?”
“It—”
“It was an accident,” Vergess stated. He released Geist’s collar and took a step back. “In the heat of battle. Geist and I went for the same target, and I almost killed them both.”
His words hung over the group like fog.
Geist stumbled back and gave a weak nod, grasping the opening Vergess had provided her. “It’s true. I was caught up in the fighting. I almost attacked Vergess and he reacted instinctively.”
Blick stormed up to Vergess and grabbed the man by the arm. “You expect me to believe that? That you just let a Magic Hunter go by accident?”
Unfazed by Blick’s indignation, Vergess shoved him aside, almost sending him to the floor. “Don’t be a fool. You think the Kaiser would send one of his guards into the Ethereal Squadron to save one Austrian sorcerer? It only took the deaths of several powerful German sorcerers to complete
. What a master plan.”
His unmitigated sarcasm served its purpose. Blick stood down, but he continued to glower.
He trusts me like my old team, Geist realized. Cutter, Little Wick, and Buttons all would have done the same thing. Her chest tightened, almost ashamed she couldn’t reciprocate the show of loyalty.
“Gentlemen, we don’t have time for this,” Dreamer said, his presence almost forgotten amidst the argument, his upper-crust accent lending a mollifying effect to his voice.
“Why don’t we just put this to rest?” Blick asked. He gave brothers hard glares. “We all know Victory can determine whether Vergess is a traitor or not. Settle the doubt so we can move on.”
Then Geist smiled. Here’s how I’ll reciprocate.
“Do you trust me, Blick?” she asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Then leave this alone,” she snapped. “Your constant doubting and suspicion are only hurting us. Hell, it’s hurting the whole goddamn mission.”
Leaving the side of a shaken Belgian sorcerer, Victory stood. “I agree. Blick, this isn’t the time. We can’t prove it one way or another, and it’s best we trust our teammates.”
“We could prove it,” Blick muttered.
“Whatever we do, we must do it soon,” Dreamer said.
He jogged to the nearest barred window of the museum and shook his head. The foggy glass was stained with black smoke. The fires that consumed the city danced in the distance, creeping closer with each mismanaged second.
Vergess growled. “Well? What’s it going to be?”
“I already made my decision,” Geist said, stifling the urge to shout. “Blick, there have been several times Vergess could’ve turned us over to the authorities. When the boat was inspected, when we were caught in town, right now—obviously Vergess hasn’t done that. He’s one of us.”
He was. Geist knew it in her core. Just like her old team.
The next few moments occurred in absolute silence. No one moved. Not even the hostages
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHATEAU COPPENS
“FOR THE LOVE OF MARY,” Dreamer said. “I believe it. Vergess is one of us. Now can we leave? Or should we allow the enemy to regroup and swarm us again?”
Battery nodded. “I think he’s a friend as well.”
Vergess gave him a sidelong glance.
At least Battery came around, Geist thought with half a laugh.
An explosion outside the northern wall cut the conversation short.
“Help the Belgians,” Geist commanded. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
“We might find we have difficulties,” Dreamer said, his eyes reflecting the bright red of flames just beyond the window.
Heat engulfed the room as though summoned by the statement. The barrels surrounding the museum had been lit. Geist knew there was a good possibility it had been Dietrich who lit the flames. But I can’t think of that now. We need to focus on escaping.
Geist stared at the back wall. They could avoid the Germans if they stayed off the main streets. She shifted her gaze to Vergess and he met her stare with one of uncertainty.
“Vergess,” she said. “Make an exit.”
“Right,” he said.
The Belgian sorcerers, some so weak they could barely keep their eyes open, allowed Geist and her team to help them up. Blick and Dreamer shouldered three while Geist and Battery managed the rest.
The Belgian hostages left bloody smears across the floor as they walked together to the far wall, but everything became difficult to see with the dark smoke billowing in from all seams of the building.
Vergess destroyed a wall and kicked out a large portion, enough for three people to walk through at once. Fire swooshed into the museum, flaring up once the wall fell. The barrels that lined the building had erupted into pillars of flame, blocking their escape. Vergess stepped forward and without hesitation kicked over a red-hot barrel, sending it tumbling into the street. The narrow opening would allow for people to pass one at a time without harm, though speed would be the key.
With the exit made, Vergess jogged back and took two sorcerers off the hands of Blick and Dreamer. His strength was enough to carry two full grown adults at a dead run, and he leapt through the flames in a single bound.
Geist and the others shadowed his steps. Embers burned holes through their soiled clothes, but they couldn’t stop, nor could they panic. They ran into Liège, leaving the museum to its fiery fate.
“We can’t carry these guys forever,” Blick said as they stepped onto a cobblestone street.
The Belgian woman on Geist’s shoulder stirred. Her face, caked in dried tears and blood, scrunched up as she strained herself to breathe deep. “Please,” she murmured. “Chateau Coppens. We should head for Chateau Coppens.”
“A chateau?” Geist asked. They had mentioned nothing else since the arrival of the Ethereal Squadron.
“Yes. We’ll be safe there. Please. Before the Germans find us.”
Geist paused. She didn’t know this place—but the woman she carried sounded so certain, so desperate. Geist rolled her neck in frustration. Another decision only she could make.
“Blick, Victory,” Geist called out. “Get us to Chateau Coppens.”
They nodded in unison.
Geist clawed at her clothing. Heat pulsed through her with each beat of her heart, not heat from the flames but the dreamlike burn of fever. She felt a twisted sickness taking hold of her body, and she cursed her own weakness.
I need to hold it together until the end of the operation. Just a little while longer.
The chateaux of France and Belgium were large palatial estates, so massive that foreigners sometimes confused them with castles. They had stone walls around the property, some with hundreds of acres within. They could rest safe within a chateau—so long as the Germans and the Austrians weren’t there first.
We’ll have to risk it.
Chateau Coppens was once an elegant manor on the edge of Liège. The U-shaped building, complete with a red stone façade and steepled roofs, stood in the center of the multi-acre property, surrounded by a row of trees and a tall brick wall. Gardens lined the estate, but the flowers lay dead and the bushes had been mowed down to stumps.
There was no sign of German forces around the edge of the chateau, much to Geist’s great relief. And as they approached the front gate, they were welcomed with open arms, the servants taking the Belgian sorcerers into the safety of the private estate.
The entire estate had been converted into a hospice. The servants delivered letters, running around the manor in a blind panic as they attended to wounded and injured Belgian citizens. House Coppens, the sorcerers who owned the chateaux, oversaw the medicine and supplies.
Geist and the others were given two private rooms and access to the pool, garden, and west ballroom, their parts of the manor secure from individuals who didn’t know of the family’s occult leanings. The opulent rooms, furnished in green and white, hadn’t been touched in months. While most beds had been used for injured soldiers, much remained untouched, including soft couches, bookshelves filled with hundreds of novels, and dining rooms complete with polished wood tables.
While Blick, Victory, and Battery went straight for their rooms, Geist focused on her injuries. She walked the long hallway with Dreamer and Vergess on either side.
The shrapnel in her leg and hip twinged and pinched with every movement, and her fever burned hot behind her eyes.
She rocked on her feet, stumbling down the wide hall of the chateau. Vergess caught her shoulder, his teeth gritted. “You need to be looked at.”
Dreamer pointed to the far door. “She could stay in the hospice area.”
Never. Where is Cross when I need her?
“I’ll see to Geist’s injuries myself,” Vergess said.
“You two? Alone?” Dreamer asked, a smile on his face and in his voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sole book—the one he claimed to be Phantom of the O
pera. But then he wrote in it, as if keeping notes.
That’s exactly what he’s been doing, Geist realized. Notes. But one whose orders? Major Reese?
“You’ve been watching us,” she said. “Why?”
“I pay attention to a great many things,” Dreamer replied. “I’m a spy, after all. But I can’t remember everything. So, to better write reports, I take copious notes.”
“Tell me,” Vergess said, “as the watchful one in this group… do you honestly think me a traitor?”
“No,” Dreamer said.
“Then why did it take you so long to say something in the museum?”
“I observe first, then make decisions after. I was on the fence at the time. But seeing how you’ve acted since, I’m convinced you’re not.”
“Since?”
Dreamer glanced to Geist, then Vergess, then back to Geist, a smile widening on his face. Geist didn’t understand—but she smiled back anyhow. At least he’s one less person I have to convince.
Dreamer turned and walked in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” Vergess asked.
“I’m going to observe the sorcerers here in the chateau. We should have information about this place…” He stopped and glanced back. “We shouldn’t stay here more than twenty-four hours, but we need to recover our strength. So, whatever you’re going to do to help our commander, do it now.”
Geist place a hand on her face, holding back the pressure that built behind her nose and cheeks. Thoughts came like dynamite, bursting through what concentration she had.
“All right,” Vergess said.
With quick and quiet movements, Dreamer disappeared down the hall, leaving Geist and Vergess to the stillness of the gigantic chateau. The moment they were alone, Vergess took one of Geist’s arms and threw it over his shoulder. He guided her to the ballroom antechamber. The cozy room had two couches and sets of accompanying chairs, each upholstered in jade, complementing the off-white of the wallpaper and dark browns of the carpet.
“You’re sick,” Vergess said as he took her to the nearest couch.
The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun) Page 25