“I miss him,” Bastian said so softly that Zara barely heard it. “After he was killed, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t talk to anyone at home or at school. The cadets would never understand, and my father almost seemed pleased with Opa’s death.”
“He was pleased?”
His voice turned frosty cold. “With his ranking, he could have asked for leniency when Opa was arrested. I begged him for it, but he refused. He called Opa a traitor, said that he didn’t deserve to live.”
Zara sucked in a sharp breath. She knew firsthand how cruel Colonel Eckhart could be, but apparently his cruelty knew no bounds. He had allowed his own father-in-law to be executed — even though he had the power to save him. She shuddered. At least she could hate the Colonel from afar. Bastian had to live underneath his roof.
“This is why I can never put on a Nazi uniform,” said Bastian. “My parents had wanted that life for me, so I went along with it, but when the Nazis hanged Opa … I knew I would never follow that path. That was when I decided to speak with you. I knew I was taking a chance, but your grandfather once had ties to the Alliance, so I thought you or your uncle might, too.”
The rain finally faded. Zara chewed her lip, trying to process everything he had told her. Doubt whispered at the back of her mind, but what if Bastian was telling her the truth? She needed to know. “I read that article you gave me.”
“You did?” Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I thought you might have thrown it away.”
“I almost did.”
He scooted a bit closer to her, but not close enough to startle her. “Do you think you can believe me, then? Ever since Opa died, I’ve been filled with this need to do …”
“Something?” she finished.
“Anything.”
Zara knew the feeling. Glancing up, she looked into his eyes to find a look of hard determination. She hadn’t seen him like this before. At school, he had always blended in with the rest of the cadets, who turned their noses up at the Kleinbauern who served them. But he had saved her from the guards tonight and, if what he said was true, he had admired her for years. Zara swallowed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was convincing her.
The silence stretched thick between them. Another minute passed, and he scooted closer again. “Can you please let me look at your ankle? I know it must be painful.”
Zara was so surprised by the question that she nodded. Bastian swiftly got to work, untying her boot and gently pulling the shoe from her foot before he rubbed the anklebone with his fingertips.
“It’s just a sprain.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them. “You should keep off of it for a few days, though. When you get home, place a bag of ice on it to help with the swelling.”
“Thank you,” Zara murmured.
He nodded.
She looked down at her muddy hands. Both had turned to prunes in the rain. “I’m sorry. About your grandfather. He sounds like a good man.”
“The very best.” More silence passed between them, until Bastian cleared his throat and said, “We should go.”
Zara nodded, eager for a change of clothes and a warm bed. She still couldn’t quite grasp everything that had happened since she last stepped foot in her room. Her mission tonight had been to distribute the flyers and bury Mrs. Talley, but now here she was, talking like friends with Bastian Eckhart, the son of a Nazi. The enemy. And yet, somehow, he was none of those things.
Using a tree trunk for support, Zara tried to put a little weight on her foot. It still throbbed, but she could probably hobble on it.
Bastian reached out to her. “You won’t get far like that. Here, let me help.” He curled his arm around her, propping half of her body against him. Zara’s eyes flew wide open as their sides pressed together.
“What are you doing?” she asked, too stunned to pull away.
“Helping.”
Heat climbed up Zara’s neck. Before tonight, she had never stood so close to a boy before. Bastian may have carried her from the courthouse earlier, but she had been too shocked to notice it then. But now, she did notice. His hand on her hip; his arm warm against her back. The smell of him surrounded her, like leather books and earth and sage.
Embarrassed, she tried to wriggle free, but nearly toppled in the process. Bastian steadied her, and their gazes caught.
“I can manage on my own,” she said.
“I don’t want your ankle to get any worse. And I don’t mind. Really.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Zara needed his help to get home. Flying wasn’t an option now, not with the clouds breaking overhead. With a reluctant nod, she leaned against him, and they limped together slowly. His hands were gentle on her waist as he guided her down the graveled street. Step by slow step, she got used to their closeness, even though he was a cadet, even though his father was a colonel.
By the time they reached the road, Bastian’s breaths had grown heavy. “I can walk from here,” Zara said. “We’re going in different directions anyway.”
He didn’t let go. “Your house is miles away. This is the least I can do.”
And then, even though he didn’t have to, Bastian kept her tucked at his side and walked her all the way home.
When they finally reached the farm, Zara’s eyelids were drooping and her ankle was throbbing, but she pressed onward with her last scraps of strength. About halfway up her driveway, she stopped and looked at Bastian, who was shivering in his wet shirt and trousers.
“Maybe I should walk alone from here,” she said. “In case my uncle wakes up.”
“I don’t think you should risk reinjuring your ankle,” he said, teeth chattering.
“It’s not very far, and I’m sure you want to head home yourself.” Zara had to be firm about this. If her uncle awoke and saw her with Bastian, she didn’t want to think about what he would say or do. To both of them.
Reluctantly, Bastian unlocked his arm from hers. “Remember to ice your ankle and elevate it if you can. It will be sore for a few days.”
“All right,” Zara said. Out of habit she added a quick “Herr Eckhart.”
An amused look shone in his amber eyes. “After tonight, I think you can call me Bastian.”
She started to shake her head. “I couldn’t —”
“It’s fine, really.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. Above them, the clouds had broken apart, revealing enough starlight for Zara to see his cheeks flush. “I’d like it if you called me that.”
Zara didn’t know what to say. Since birth, she had been taught to address a German as Herr or Frau or she’d suffer the consequences of offending a Nazi. Yet Bastian actually wanted her to call him by his first name — something she had never expected from a highborn German like him. He was treating her like a peer instead of an underling, instead of an Untermensch. And she found herself surprisingly touched by the sentiment.
“Very well. Bastian,” she said, testing his name aloud.
His dimples appeared. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
This was another side of Bastian that Zara had never seen before. At the academy, he always played the part of the proper cadet, with his crisp salutes and his stony face, an expression that everyone took as snobbery. But here he was, with that easy smile and his shoulders relaxed. She wondered if she was glimpsing the real Bastian, the one hidden behind his mask.
His dimples slowly faded, and his properness returned. “I was hoping, when you felt ready, that you could speak to the Alliance for me. Or you could put me in touch with someone who could do that.”
Zara didn’t know how to answer him. She was starting to trust him — she had let him walk her home after all — but saying yes to his question was like a full confession of her uncle’s ties to the Alliance. And that felt too dangerous. Her head was a broken puzzle of questions.
“I’ll … I’ll ask around,” she said finally. Maybe she would contact Garrison to see what he thought. The Alliance was always looking for new recruits, and Bastian’s m
edical skills could be a boon to them — not to mention his close connection to Nazi higher-ups. As the son of a colonel, he might be able to provide vital information about Fort Goering and beyond.
Bastian turned to leave but hesitated. “Thank you,” he said.
Zara nodded, knowing how big those two words were in this moment.
“Elevate that ankle, okay?”
She limped the rest of the way to the house, waving him off when he asked if she needed help. Once she reached the front door, though, Zara paused. She couldn’t climb the stairs with only one good leg, not if she didn’t want to wake Uncle Red. Biting her bottom lip, she peered up at her bedroom. It wouldn’t take her long to get up there and squeeze through the window.
Once Bastian disappeared around the bend in the road, Zara drew the wind to her side and commanded it to lift her toward the second story of the house. Thankfully, she had left her window unlocked, so she pried it open with her fingers and climbed inside the dark bedroom. She reached for a towel on the floor, ready to dry herself off and hop into bed, but then the bedside table lamp snapped on.
Zara nearly fell over. With her pulse galloping, her gaze climbed upward until she met his furious gaze.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Uncle Red!” Zara gasped out. Her uncle was sitting on her bed, perched there like a hungry owl. She didn’t know how long he had been waiting for her, but it was obviously long enough to make his mouth curl into a scowl.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
She leaned on her oak dresser, holding up her ankle, while she fumbled for an excuse. “I … I went out for a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You went out for a walk for over three hours? With your leg like that? When did that happen?”
“I tripped on the way home! Look, I’m sorry —”
“Don’t lie to me. I saw who you were with outside.”
Zara’s blood turned cold. Her uncle had seen her with Bastian. There was no denying it, then. Her lips parted, fumbling for words, but she didn’t know what to say.
“How long have you been sneaking around with the Eckhart boy?” His face bloomed red, from the top of his hairline to the tip of his beard. But it was his eyes — cold and harsh — that made Zara flinch the most. “Is he the reason why you’re limping around? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I told you that I tripped!” Which was partially true. “He walked me home. That’s it.”
“The Colonel’s son ‘walked’ you home? From where?” He leapt off the mattress. “How could you be so careless? Those German boys only want one thing, don’t you realize that?”
Zara gaped up at him. Was he implying … ? “Nothing happened!”
“I thought you were smarter than this! I thought I’d taught you better.”
“There’s nothing going on between us,” she said again. Although that wasn’t quite true, either. Bastian knew about her power. And Zara could still remember the feel of his arm around her, even though he was only helping her home.
Fury embedded itself inside Uncle Red’s eyes. “That’s what your mother told me, too. She said that there was nothing going on, that there was nothing for me to worry about.”
“What are you saying?” The words tore out of Zara’s mouth. “That because my mom fell for my father that I’ll fall for the enemy, too?”
Uncle Red stepped back, wincing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to look out for you. Your mother would want the same thing.”
“Don’t tell me what she would want!” In only seconds, her fear at getting caught was shoved aside and replaced with white-hot fury that flamed up her neck and spread into her fingertips. She couldn’t believe what her uncle was saying — or what he was implying about her mother. “Look at what you’ve become! Do you think that’s what Mom would want? The brother she knew would be out there with the Alliance instead of being so cautious that you don’t do anything at all.”
The accusation hit its mark. Anger racked Uncle Red’s face. “Your mother would want you to be safe! What happens if I get involved and don’t make it back? Then what? What happens to you?”
Heat rose inside Zara like a furnace. So now it was her fault that Uncle Red wasn’t doing more for the Alliance? She was about to shout at him again, but then her hands blazed hot, burning like she had stepped into a pyre. Zara blinked at the sight of her fingers, at the bright pink skin that was reddening by the second. Her anger slipped away, replaced with shock.
Uncle Red reached for her again, but he pulled back as soon as he touched her, as if he had been stung. “You have to calm down.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Please!” He pointed at her hands. “You’re glowing!”
Glowing? Zara looked at her hands again and nearly crumpled to the floor. On her left palm there was a hot ball of electricity sizzling over her skin. “Wh-What’s happening to me?”
“Zara, look at me!” Uncle Red took a tentative step toward her. “You’re going to be okay, but you have to calm down.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” she cried out. She tried to scrape the lightning from her hands, but it flew wide, heading straight for her uncle.
“No!” Zara shouted.
It was too late.
Uncle Red backpedaled toward the hallway, but the ball rammed into his side, fanning over his body in a spidery wave. He crashed onto the floorboards, his cheek slamming against the wood.
“Uncle Red!” Zara screamed. She limped over to his body, skidding onto her knees. Tendrils of smoke steamed from his shirt.
“Uncle Red,” she said again, a sob breaking her voice.
He didn’t make a sound.
Zara gripped her uncle by the shoulders. She cried his name one more time, but he still didn’t stir. With tears dripping down her cheeks, she pressed two fingers against his neck. Hours seemed to pass before she found the slow thump-thump. She clutched his hand, overwhelmed by relief. He was still alive. For now.
“Hold on, do you hear me?” she told him.
Leaping to her feet, she limped into the kitchen and yanked the first aid kit from under the sink. She flipped through the pamphlet inside, scouring for whatever she could find about electrocutions, because she didn’t know what else to call what had happened, but its only advice was to contact the hospital. Zara threw the pamphlet back into the kit. They could never afford the medical fees and, besides, how could she explain what she had done to her uncle? Zara wished so desperately that Mrs. Talley were still alive. Mrs. Talley would take care of Uncle Red, and she’d take care of Zara, too, telling her that they would figure out all of these changes happening to her.
Zara’s gaze fell upon her hands. There was no trace of the lightning that had sprung from them. Was she developing another power? The mere thought made her tremble. Dual Anomalies were rare, so very rare, that she didn’t think it could be possible; but she couldn’t think about that right now. She had to focus on her uncle. He needed to see a doctor…. Or a medic.
Then it hit her: Bastian.
He could check up on Uncle Red, couldn’t he? But he must be halfway home by now, and she didn’t know where he lived. Fear clawed up Zara’s throat, and she was ready to drive her uncle to the hospital herself — she would deal with the fees later — but then she heard a groan from upstairs. She stumbled toward her bedroom, ignoring the pounding pain in her ankle.
“Uncle Red!” She collapsed next to him, lying sprawled on the rough floor.
He coughed and cracked open his left eye. “What happened? I feel like a truck hit me.”
“You — you don’t remember?”
“We were talking. No, we were fighting.” He paused as the memories came back to him. “Your hands. The lightning.”
“I’m sorry! I tried to stop it. I don’t know what happened.” Tears flooded her eyes again, both at hearing him speak and remembering what she had done to her uncle. She could’ve killed him.
“Wer
e you manifesting another power?” he whispered.
She hiccupped and said, “I don’t know.”
Uncle Red blinked at the ceiling, his eyes cloudy and his features slack. Zara drew her knees against her chest, forming a tight ball. She knew that look on his face — that same worry-laden look he had given her when she first manifested years ago. Was he afraid of her now?
“I’m so sorry, Uncle Red. I never meant —”
“Hush, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” His gaze locked onto hers, tight as a weld. “I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, do you hear me?”
“Look at you. You can barely move.”
“I’m a little stiff, that’s all. Help me up.”
Zara let out a shaky laugh, but shook her head. “I don’t think you should get up yet. What if you go into shock?”
“I might do that if I keep lying on this cold floor. Come on. Give your old uncle a hand.”
Reluctantly, Zara helped him onto his feet and did her best to tuck him into bed while balancing on her healthy ankle. Uncle Red’s eyes fluttered shut as soon as his head hit the pillows.
“I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said.
“No, let me sleep for a few hours.” He reached out and clasped her hand. “Zara, about that boy.”
Guilt flooded over her. “There’s nothing going on with him.”
“I don’t want you speaking to him again. Are we clear on that?”
“Perfectly.” Zara fidgeted. She didn’t want to lie to him, especially not when he was in this condition, but she didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t tell him that Bastian wanted to join the Alliance, and she definitely couldn’t say that Bastian knew about one of her powers.
“One more thing,” Uncle Red said, fighting off sleep. “We have to control this new power of yours. You’ll have to learn how to harness it, like you did the last time. That has to be your number one priority.”
The Only Thing to Fear Page 12