“The girl has information,” Amalgam said, ignoring the threat. “You almost wasted a valuable resource.”
He knew killing Otto wouldn’t go over well. He didn’t want to be stalked by Lieutenant Cavell while he hunted for Geist, nor did he want to be without a base of operations if he broke away from Germany.
Otto pulled his coat tight, unharmed from the fight.
Pavel remained on the ground, curled in a tight ball, his blood pouring onto the platform. It was a show, though. A way to look nonthreatening. Amalgam could sense the sorcery in Pavel’s body slowly fixing all the damage.
“We could’ve gotten information from Heinrich,” Otto muttered. Then he turned to Pavel. “Get up or I’ll force you to get up.”
Amalgam chuckled, just to irritate Otto. “Heinrich resists your sorcery. We would’ve gotten nothing from him.”
“But he doesn’t resist knives and bullets. Sooner or later, he would break.”
A chunk of Pavel’s intestines sat cold on the train platform. Pavel scooped up the organ with a bloodied hand. As he stood, he held the flesh against his wound. Like sugar dissolving into water, the bit of intestines melted back into the man.
Russian sorcerers had all manner of bizarre sorceries. Fleshcrafters—disgusting spies—stole skin, bone, muscle, and organs from others to use as their own. If they killed someone, they could wear their skin, take their windpipe, and imitate someone without flaw. They were perfect sorcerers for infiltration. Unlike invisibility and illusions, perceptive sorcerers couldn’t see through a fleshcrafted disguise. Pavel slipped by even the golden-eyed Ethereal Squadron members without a problem.
Pavel straightened himself and lost some of his stolen flesh. Without his disguise… he was thin. Skeletal. Disturbing. Most found him unsettling.
“I can’t maintain my disguises,” Pavel muttered, his real voice a harsh rasp. “Damn headaches make it impossible. My face almost melted away on the train ride.”
Otto exhaled. “Headaches… The Russian Empire is a hellhole.”
A powerful sorcery hung in the air. When Amalgam listened, he could faintly make out the whispering. It got more powerful the closer they got to the Alexander Palace, and he knew it was somehow the source. What was there? Something that wanted to keep enemy sorcerers away.
It affected Pavel terribly, preventing his sorcery. Otto, however, came from the Kaiser’s Guard. They trained the sorcerers ruthlessly to withstand attacks on their focus. It was no wonder Otto remained mostly unaffected.
“You,” Otto said, his contempt enough to tell Amalgam he was talking to him. “Lieutenant Cavell thought you could handle this whole mission on your own. Yet they got away a second time. Because you stopped me.”
Amalgam turned away, his heated breath trapped in his gas mask and agitating him further. “We know where they’re heading. It won’t be difficult to corner them again. We still have the advantage.”
“Your monster body doesn’t feel the cold like the rest of us, does it? We can’t afford to dally through the snow when we’ve come here to collect.”
Otto and Hans both saw Amalgam as a dog—a monster. It made sense. They only ever had appreciation for each other and the Kaiser. But Amalgam hated hearing it from them, for some reason. Does it matter? he thought, a cruel smile on his twisted face. I am a monster. Perhaps I shouldn’t take such offense.
“We should regroup with the others,” Otto said.
“You think Lieutenant Cavell will accept our failure?” Amalgam asked.
It took Otto a few long seconds to mull over the question. “No,” he finally muttered.
Amalgam hated hearing Otto’s thoughts.
… brother… where are you? … we could’ve accomplished this together…
The two brothers thought about each other nonstop, to the point it grated on Amalgam’s patience. He turned away and focused his thoughts on Geist. All he wanted was to goad Otto into continuing the pursuit. Perhaps with both the Eyes of the Kaiser, she wouldn’t have gotten away. Then again, she probably would’ve been killed had Hans been around to shoot at her as well.
Which was why Amalgam argued for their group to split up. Lieutenant Cavell, his son, and Hans were continuing with the collection, only because Amalgam had convinced Lieutenant Cavell that he would be successful.
Pavel patted his bloody coat. “We should leave this place. More Russian soldiers will come through here.”
“We should return to our pursuit,” Amalgam said. “We should target the weak members of the Ethereal Squadron—the ones without combat sorceries. We can weaken their force.”
Pavel snapped his fingers. “One of them is injured from the last encounter. He has some sort of future sight. Lieutenant Cavell would love to get his hands on him and take his blood. And that researcher won’t be walking right for a while, not after the gunshot to his leg.”
“We can’t let up. The more pressure we apply, the harder it’ll be for them to escape.”
Otto nodded along with the words. “Very well. We can catch them in Alexander Palace. I doubt they know of the rot within.”
Although Amalgam gave serious thought to heading out on his own, he went along with the plan. He knew Geist. She wouldn’t leave a member of her team behind. Hell, she even risked returning just to save the researcher, and he wasn’t an official member. If Amalgam managed to pluck a few from the herd, Geist would come for them.
Fourteen
Tsarskoye Selo
Geist huddled behind a large crate of munitions and rested her head on the wood. Battery’s empowerment only worked if he was in range. After a few minutes, his wellspring of power left her. Exhaustion settled in afterward, along with the terrible pounding of her never-ending headache.
Twice Geist had fought with the Eyes of the Kaiser, and twice she had been dominated. If it weren’t for her team, she never would’ve escaped.
What if they caught me alone? she wondered. I have to deal with this somehow.
The harsh evening winds brought with it a fresh sprinkling of snow. Heinrich pushed himself up into a sitting position and shivered. Then he moved to her side. Without his glasses, and with his clothes bloodied and torn, he almost looked like someone completely different. His hair, often kept tidy and combed, had become disheveled during the fighting. He ran a hand through it, but that didn’t help.
“Where’s this train going?” Heinrich asked.
“I don’t know.”
Geist had seen signs at the train depot. Russian signs. They hadn’t been informative.
When Heinrich shivered again, Geist inched closer. Blood oozed from his busted lip and nose. It was obvious Heinrich had been hit with the butt of a gun more than once. He reached up a few times, as if to adjust his glasses, but then he must’ve realized he didn’t have them and instead cursed in German under his breath.
“You didn’t have to anger them,” Geist said as she pulled her knees up against her chest. “Getting yourself killed because you didn’t follow a few simple instructions is foolish.”
“I followed instructions my entire life,” Heinrich snapped. “And look what happened. My research and creations will be tools of war for all time.” He shoved his trembling hands into his coat pockets. “I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”
Geist half-smiled and dropped the conversation. If Heinrich wanted to adhere to some sort of personal code of defiance, so be it. He knew the consequences and went with it anyway.
His knee, injured by the sideswipe of a bullet, would have to be examined by a medical professional. If Cross were available, she could heal it up, but without her sorcery, it was imperative they prevent anything from becoming infected.
“Do you have any medical supplies?” she asked.
“No.”
Of course not. That would be convenient. She rubbed at her eyes, wishing Battery were here. He’s always prepared. Although she didn’t like to share her medical supplies—men didn’t bleed once a month, after all—she re
ached into a belt pouch and withdrew a small amount of bandage and cellucotton.
“Try not to put weight on this leg until we get to a medic,” Geist said as she pulled his injured knee close and wrapped it.
Heinrich didn’t fight her impromptu treatment. He closed his eyes and continued to shiver.
Once finished, Geist returned to her comfortable position, fighting to ignore the clack-clack of the train as it sped down the rails. Every little shake and jostle irritated her head. She, too, closed her eyes and breathed into her hands, trapping the warmth.
I’ll rest for just a bit, she told herself. Then I’ll figure out how to get us back to the group.
When Geist awoke, it was still dark.
At some point, she and Heinrich had huddled together to conserve heat. Being smaller, it had been easy for Geist to tuck herself under his armpit and keep comfortable. Heinrich, still asleep, leaned heavy on her, his shoulder bonier than she would’ve expected.
Warm and somewhat rejuvenated, Geist pushed away from Heinrich and stood. The evening winds whipped around the crate and shocked her into a full state of wakefulness. She shook off the sudden chill and turned her attention to the front of the train. Somehow, she would speak with the operator and figure out their destination.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll know English.
She went to step around Heinrich, but he held up a hand. Then he struggled to get to one foot.
“Don’t go,” he said.
Geist lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll be right back. You can rest here.”
“I’d rather accompany you.”
“We shouldn’t risk harming your injured leg.”
“I don’t care,” he snapped.
The heat in his voice took Geist by surprise. She narrowed her eyes into a glare. If the enemy masqueraded as Varnish, could they do it with Heinrich? But code words didn’t work before. How could she make sure this was Heinrich?
“Hold out your hand,” she commanded.
Heinrich did as he was told. Geist touched his fingertips with her own.
“Use your sorcery on me.”
Although Geist had only felt it a handful of times, nullis sorcery had a certain feel that was unmistakable. Like Battery, it soaked into her very being. Unlike Battery, it drained her of any sense of magic, leaving behind a hollow sensation.
This was, without a doubt, Heinrich. From what Geist understood, fleshcrafters didn’t take the sorcery of the corpse they wore.
And at least her headache faded for a moment.
Unless the enemy can somehow mimic sorceries as well, she thought with a dry sense of sarcasm. She had never heard of such a feat, but she wouldn’t start doubting her team now. That was the one thing she could always rely on.
“I’d rather stay as close to you as possible,” Heinrich said. He removed his hand and shoved it into his pocket, ending his sorcery. “You’re the only one I trust to keep me safe.”
Heinrich had been distrusting of the others, going so far as to make enemies of them—confrontational, even in quiet moments.
“I’m the same as any of the others,” Geist said. “They’ll protect you just as I would.”
Heinrich leaned on the crate. He rested the side of his head against the wood and exhaled a stream of warm breath.
“They weren’t the ones who dove into the basement of the OHL and dragged me out of a war zone,” he said. “And I was there when you risked everything to neutralize the Paris Gun.” He chuckled. “And it’s not like that little one—what’s his stupid name?—Battery came rushing back through a warehouse of enemies to protect me. It was you. Obviously, you’re willing to take more risks. You’re determined to succeed. That’s a quality I want in a protector.”
Geist hadn’t thought about any of that. She recalled when she first met Heinrich. He wanted to defect, and she managed to get him out of the OHL—enemy headquarters—even if the escape had been messy. But she didn’t know he thought of her as someone who was determined to succeed. It was a compliment she had never received before.
“Ya know,” she said with a smirk, “you’ve saved me a good number of times, too. Back in that battle with the Paris Guns, I thought Prince Leopold would kill me, and if you hadn’t been there to nullify his sorcery, he might’ve.” She turned away, grappling with thoughts. “And back in the warehouse, with the Eyes of the Kaiser… I think I would’ve suffocated. Or at least passed out and been helpless. If it hadn’t been for you.”
Heinrich slid back down into a sitting position. “Amusing.”
“I’m trying to thank you.”
“Well, I should tell you something personal.”
Geist turned back around, half expecting him to reveal himself as an enemy or double agent.
“I never had to speak with General Volkov,” Heinrich said. “Nor did I have anyone to see in the Winter Palace. I fabricated it all so I could continue to stay close to you.”
It took a moment for Geist’s heart to return to a steady beat. “Because you wanted me to protect you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “Okay. Anything else?”
He stared up at her, his green eyes a little more vibrant without his glasses. For a moment, Geist thought he was about to say something, but at the last moment he glanced to the floor of the flat bed and turned away.
“I want to get out of this damn cold,” he said.
Geist nodded. She knelt and offered her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
After a moment of thought, Heinrich forced himself up enough to lean his weight on her. After the rest, Geist knew she could handle it. And it wasn’t like he was particularly bulky.
“I don’t think you know the others as well as you should,” Geist said as she helped him to his one good leg. “Battery was there at the Paris Guns, after all. He risked his life for the mission, too. And Vergess helped pull you out of the OHL. And he stood toe-to-toe with Prince Leopold. Every member of the Ethereal Squadron has been tested by the fires of war. And they’re still here.”
Heinrich didn’t reply.
“I trust them with my life. You should as well.”
For a long while, Heinrich said nothing. They walked together across the flatbed of the train, Geist ensuring they wouldn’t fall. When they reached the connection point, she helped Heinrich across first before crossing over the tiny steel walkway herself. Together they made their way up another flatbed.
“Give me a codename then,” Heinrich finally said. “I doubt the others will really see me as an ally until I have one.”
Geist smiled. “You want me to pick it?”
“The others will accept whatever you choose. Just don’t embarrass me.”
“You can pick a name and I can tell the others it was my idea.”
Heinrich growled something under his breath. “Pick the damn name.”
She laughed as she reached the end of the flatbed. Within a few seconds, she knew the name that suited him most.
“Defiant,” she said. Ever since he rejected the title of Magi-Tech General. It was how he was.
“Really?” he asked. “Out of all the English words you could’ve used?”
“Even now.” Geist chuckled. “Or maybe we should go with Trotzig? If you want the German version, that is.”
“No. I said I would accept whatever you picked.”
A light powder of snow wafted over them as they made their way into the third flatbed. And although Geist couldn’t articulate what had changed, she felt a little lighter in step. Like some sort of wall between them had come down.
Defiant rubbed at his eyes. “Maybe you should’ve given me the codename Blind.”
“Is it bad?”
“Everything is just a shape. These crates. You. The train. Colors and shapes.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just another excuse to stick close to me?”
He chortled. “We both know that when we regroup, you’ll just have your man drag me around.”
My man? Ge
ist’s face heated to the point she swore it melted snowflakes before they even reached her. She had never heard anyone refer to Vergess as her man. Then again, it wasn’t like anyone outside of her team knew about her relationship with Vergess. Is that how they refer to him to each other?
The train clacks came at slower intervals as Geist helped Defiant across the next flatbed. Using her apex sorcery, she leaned to the side and attempted to view the destination of the train. Sitting in the distance, a little more than a quarter of a mile, was a large railway station, decorated with pillars and frescos of angels.
“We’re nearing a town,” Geist muttered.
“Are there any distinguishing buildings?”
She turned her gaze to the far distance, beyond the railway station. Trees blocked most of her sight, but one feature stood out above the rest. Even at night—it glittered with a fine polish.
“I see this golden onion dome,” she said. “It has a cross on top. It’s the tallest building I can see.”
Defiant nodded. “It’s probably the Fedorovskiy Cathedral. It’s famous for its onion dome roofs. That means we’ve arrived in the town of Tsarskoye Selo.”
“Home to Alexander Palace.”
“Catherine Palace as well.”
Geist half smiled. “The Winter Palace. The Alexander Palace. The Catherine Palace. How many damn palaces does Russia have?”
“Enough to cause civil unrest,” he quipped.
Instead of heading for the train operator, Geist moved to the edge of the flatbed. Alexander Palace was her real goal. If she could avoid pantomiming with Russian soldiers, it would be for the best. They could leave the train and make their way to the palace by foot.
“Do you know a lot about the Russian Empire?” Geist asked.
“I know enough. I studied the Rococo architecture of both Alexander and Catherine Palace during my general studies, as well the history that led to the current state of the tsars. The Kaiser has a distaste for Russia, after all. He wants to see them fall, so he made sure everyone close to him know the nation’s weaknesses.”
A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2) Page 12