A group of chaplains marched by when a strong breeze stole the kippah from the head of a rabbi. The brimless cap flew through the air, and it was clear the man had become distraught. A Catholic chaplain removed his own cap and cut a circle from the olive green fabric and then handed it over as a makeshift kippah for his fellow chaplain to wear.
It was as if that Catholic wanted everyone to know that they weren’t just chaplains, but that he was Christian, and the other man Jewish—and that they both wanted to shout the message, While some countries kill each other for the difference in religion, America had people of all beliefs, working side-by-side, when the time came to help others.
That tiny moment, almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things, had resonated with Geist. She wanted to add luster, not tarnish, to the reputation of the United States. She wanted to spread the ideals of tolerance and protection. Of cooperation.
And when she glanced between her teammates—two Germans, two Brits, an Arab, and herself, a woman, their leader—she couldn’t help but realize that perhaps she had built exactly what she wanted.
It reinforced her desire to save Victory. She wouldn’t allow her squad to be damaged or harmed. She would protect them.
Defiant squeezed her shoulder. “There.”
The group stopped at a large gate. Beyond the fence stood a monastery, perhaps a century old. Its thick stone and dark windows weren’t inviting, nor did it seem like anyone was inside. The building, two stories, complete with domestic quarters for nuns, waved the Russian and Eastern Orthodox flags.
“Our enemy is inside?” Dreamer asked.
Defiant shook his head. “I don’t know about the enemy… but Victory is.”
If Victory is in the monastery, so are the Eyes of the Kaiser, Geist thought. We can’t take any chances, and we can’t waste the element of surprise. This might be the only time we’ll get the drop on them.
Dreamer made the sign of the cross. “It’s a shame to see men who value nothing holy. This only adds to their many atrocities.”
“Maybe they’re men who lack faith,” Battery muttered.
“That would explain how they manage to sleep at night.”
“I’m going inside,” Geist said. “Vergess, you’ll come with me.”
“I’d be honored,” he said.
She didn’t want to take any risks. If something happened—if she were dominated—she wanted someone who could handle the situation. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but Geist knew it was a possibility.
“Battery,” she said. “I want you to empower Vergess.”
Battery snapped his attention to her. “Not you?”
“I want Vergess’s ruina sorcery to be unparalleled. Once we have Victory, this place needs to be rubble.”
Any hideout of the enemy, no matter how small, needed to be rooted from the Russian Empire. Defiant had already confirmed that the German Empire had been influencing the protestors for some time. It made sense that German operatives were hiding out in Petrograd, stirring up trouble, helping the people feel uneasy about their government.
They needed to go.
“Blick,” Geist said. “You wait here by the gates. Shoot any enemies that exit the building. Careful, though. There might be civilians inside.”
His eyes flashed a bright gold. “I’ll be able to tell the difference.”
“Good. Dreamer, I want you to protect Battery and Defiant. Your illusions are invaluable.”
He stepped up to Defiant’s side, his handgun at the ready. “By your command.”
“Battery, we’ll be back soon. With Victory.”
He replied with his brow furrowed, but otherwise remained quiet.
She headed straight for the gate. It was locked. Geist ghosted to the other side, intent on using her sorcery to reach her hand into the lock and get the latch undone, but Vergess touched the heavy metal. In an instant, rust ripped apart the lock. It spread to the bars, then to the gate hinges, and straight to a pillar of brick. The devastating power—all thanks to Battery’s sorcery—tore the fence apart in moments.
Vergess lifted both eyebrows. “I’ve… never wielded such destruction.”
“It’ll be fine,” Geist muttered. “If you see the Eyes of the Kaiser, use it on them.”
Twenty-Six
Blood Research
Geist and Vergess crossed the long lawn of the monastery. Chaos in the distance created a white noise over the property, drowning out their footsteps. The darkness of a moonless night hid them from sight.
Although it had been a long while since Geist had attended any sort of church, she knew the basic functions of a monastery. Most monasteries had people living on the grounds, but this monastery had overgrown grass, and the bushes were unclipped. Something wasn’t right, but it wasn’t like she could ask the locals about the status of the priests. No one in Petrograd cared about the happenings of a small monastery, not with a revolt taking place.
Geist walked to the wall. She tapped Vergess on the shoulder when he approached and tugged at his tunic, motioning toward the backside of the building. She continued around the building, and he followed, glancing around as they went.
Once they reached the back, Geist stopped Vergess and then knocked her knuckles against the stone. He grazed his fingertips over the monastery. Within seconds, the stone corroded, wasting away to sand. Metal pipes in the wall rusted and twisted, losing their sturdy nature right in front of Geist’s eyes. She kept a good few feet from the destruction, well aware that ruina sorcery could spread to anything it came into contact with.
A rotted hole appeared in the wall—one large enough for a grown man to step through—and Vergess entered the monastery. The wonderful thing about his magic was that it damaged without sound, unlike explosives. Makes for a convenient stealth tool, Geist thought with a smile. She hadn’t given much consideration to physical stealth in quite some time. She could walk through walls, after all.
Geist stepped into the monastery and took note of the dark hallway. Oil lamps hung on the walls with no sign the building had been fitted with electricity. Silence greeted her. It occurred to Geist then that people fleeing the riot should have been flocking to the church for safety, yet no one came.
No one.
“They’re here,” Geist whispered. “They’ve been here for a while.”
Vergess nodded. “I had the same thought. The people of the Russian Empire must know this is a place for sorcerers.”
“You know the enemy tactics better than I do. Where do you think they’re hiding?”
“Below. Like at the OHL. They want privacy.”
“Let’s get going.”
Geist, still invisible, remained close to Vergess as they traveled down the hall. They passed room after room, glancing in only to confirm they were empty. The moment they reached a staircase, Vergess nodded with his head.
“I think it’d be best if you took point,” he whispered.
“I agree,” she said—since Vergess couldn’t see her nodding.
With careful steps, Geist made her way downstairs. The basement level, complete with rooms and a wine cellar, had an odd smell. It reminded Geist of leather and sweat. Had anyone cleaned the basement? She doubted it.
Geist entered a room and stopped dead in her tracks. The smell of blood—dried, old—hit her hard. She glanced around, curious to see empty glass vials stacked on countertops. She had seen them before—they were meant to collect blood from sorcerers.
Geist walked over to the far wall counter and stared down at the folders stacked near the wall. She flipped one open and read the German within.
SERGEI ANTONOV
Schools of sorcery: ignis, tempest
Subject possessed common magics. His vital liquid was collected and sent for further research. Subject became weak after first withdrawal. Died after second. The blood pressure became too low.
Geist flipped to the next page.
ALEXANDER KISLYAK
Schools of sorcery: commun
is, corpus
Subject possessed common magics. His arm was amputated and sent for further research. It appears physical flesh can also carry the traits for sorcery. Gas fusion an option. Subject remained alive through second amputation. During the amputation of the leg, subject choked himself on his own tongue. Ninth request for sedation has been sent.
Geist went to another and then another. She stopped when she found a sorcerer with interesting sorceries.
MARIA GRININ
Schools of sorcery: obtinebris, animus, scorpius
Subject possessed exceptional magics. She was placed in confinement and drained. Died after eight days. Only extracted two vials worth. Willing participants are needed for sustained extraction.
Such information didn’t startle Geist. She had seen the research they conducted on the front lines. Now they were using Russian citizens—trapped in facilities underground—to carry out their next steps.
Geist slammed the folder shut. Despite her efforts and victories, the enemy continued to pursue their twisted goals. And it won’t end until the war is over.
We have to win. We have to stop this.
“Who’s there?” someone asked in German.
The question came from the hallway. Geist whipped around, her heart in her throat. She pulled her handgun as a metal clanging filled the basement. Her mind filled in the blanks with a picture of a grenade.
Geist dashed through the wall and entered the hall with her weapon raised. Pavel, the fleshcrafter of the enemy squad, stood down the corridor. A fragmentation grenade rolled across the floor, but before it exploded, Vergess waved his hand.
To Geist’s shock, and horror, his ruina sorcery washed across the hall like a wave. He didn’t need to touch the walls or floor or ceiling—his empowered sorcery spread through the air like a breeze, corrupting and rotting everything in the nearby area. And it wasted everything fast. Flakes from the ceiling fell to the floor, the walls twisted, and a hole melted in the floor in front of the fleshcrafter. Although devastating and thorough, the ruina sorcery dealt its damage without sound.
Pavel leapt away from the rot and pulled a pistol. If he fired, every enemy agent in the monetary would know their position.
Vergess lunged forward, faster than he had ever moved before. Battery’s power not only gave him heightened destruction, but it also increased his apex sorcery as well. He was superhuman among normal men—a god of strength and agility. He grabbed Pavel by the arm, broke it with a brutal twist, and wrenched the gun from his limp fingers.
The second Pavel went to scream, Vergess crushed his throat with a vice grip. His fingers dug down into the skin, and his ruina sorcery took care of the rest. Flesh aged and melted, and then the bone became visible, crumbling into a fine sugar.
Pavel had tried to use his fleshcrafting sorcery—and perhaps a layer of skin came off Vergess’s hand—but it wasn’t enough.
The mess at Vergess’s feet forced Geist to look away.
War has no pretty side.
“Stay where you are,” someone commanded.
Geist knew the identity moment the words hit her ears.
An Eye of the Kaiser.
She snapped her attention to the end of the hall, but immediately glanced away when she saw the purple shine from his eyes. He had come along after Pavel, perhaps after hearing the clink of the grenade.
“Vergess,” Geist shouted. “There! At the end of the hall!”
“Kill her,” the Eye said.
Geist stopped breathing. Although she knew the situation, she denied it to herself. Vergess would never get caught by their domination. He must’ve looked away in time. But then he turned around and dropped the rest of Pavel’s rotting body to floor. The expression on his face—almost neutral—confirmed the reality and dispelled the last of Geist’s hopes.
“Vergess,” she whispered.
He leapt down the hall with frightening speed, still empowered by Battery’s sorcery. Geist took only one step back before he was on top of her. He couldn’t see her—his eyes searched without focus—but his hearing and smell were far beyond human. He’ll know where I am!
Vergess swiped his hand out in front of him. If Geist hadn’t been incorporeal, he would’ve torn her arm straight from her body. The chill of magic sent shivers across her body. Should she attack him? Would they even have to fight? Could he harm her? What if she just stayed invisible?
As if moving to the next option on a laundry list of death, Vergess waved his hand and sent another round of ruina sorcery through the hallway. It caught the walls, ceiling, and floor. And then Geist’s boots. His overpowered magic would soon spread to the rest of her.
She scrambled to take off her military issued footwear, dropping her handgun in the process, but Vergess did it again, destroying more of the basement in the process. Her socks got caught by his sinister sorcery—the soles of her feet kept from slipping through the floor, but it also made them a contact point for the terrible sorcery.
Geist dove through the wall and landed in a wine cellar, desperate to put space between her and Vergess. She didn’t want to attack. She couldn’t. But she also couldn’t let him kill her. Geist ripped off her socks, threw them aside, and then flinched when Vergess busted in through the door.
He would hunt her forever, with relentless speed and god-like power.
“That’s right,” the Eye called out, a laugh on the end of his words. “Bring me her corpse!”
When Geist went to dive through the wall a second time, Vergess cut her off with another burst of ruina sorcery. She jumped and went through the wall, her heart pounding, sweat running down her back. He was a trained killer. He would eventually formulate a plan to kill her. And if her focus ever wavered—if she dropped her sorcery for just a moment and became solid—he would tear her apart.
Geist ran across the hall to the opposite room and wheeled around on her heel, waiting the half second it would take for Vergess to catch up. She couldn’t outrun him. She couldn’t counter his ruina sorcery.
I’m so sorry!
Vergess destroyed the whole wall with a wave of his hand, his ruina sorcery destroying the basement enough that the building groaned in protest. When Vergess stepped into the room, Geist lunged. She reached into his leg, just above the knee, and took a chunk of muscle. Most men would have screamed and stumbled back, incapacitated. Vergess gritted his teeth and sent out another wave of ruina—his focus undisturbed.
Geist leapt up, hung onto his tunic, becoming corporeal after the rot passed, and hefted herself onto his body. Vergess grabbed her uniform in an instant. On instinct, and as fast as she could attack, Geist jabbed her hand into Vergess’s gut. The look in his eyes—the shock—it must’ve been a long time since he ever feared for his life.
He swiped at her, his fingers like claws, no doubt hoping to catch a piece of her physical form. Geist went fully incorporeal just as his arm would’ve broken her bones and sent her flying. She ghosted through him, falling to the floor, taking her hand back from his torso—tearing bits of insides.
The moment she hit her back, Geist flipped up to her feet and dashed into the hall. She kept her eyes closed, her heart beating so hard she could barely hear anything else.
“Stop where you are,” the Eye commanded.
But his magic didn’t affect her. Geist ran straight for him.
“Get her!” the Eye of the Kaiser shouted. “Protect me!”
Geist pulled out her trench knife, thrust it into the Eye’s body while still incorporeal, and willed it to become solid the moment she had it deep in his chest. When she ripped her hand away, soaked in his blood, she leapt backward, leaving the weapon in his body. Even if Vergess somehow defeated her now, the Eye of the Kaiser wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.
The Eye wheezed and half gasped, his breath caught in his throat. He staggered, hit the wall, and tried to choke out something—say a few words—but he couldn’t. Then his breaths came as wet hiccups and he collapsed to the floor, his suffocation
so thorough Geist almost couldn’t get enough air herself.
Rot in hell, she thought as she swiped her hand across his face, her fingers becoming solid as they went through his terrible eyes. He grimaced and rolled into the fetal position, unable to breathe or see. Geist took a few deep breaths and stepped back, certain of her victory.
Vergess hobbled into the hallway, his arm clutched tight over his stomach. He stumbled for a moment, shaking his head.
“Geist,” he said. “I…”
She ran to him. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She dropped her invisibility, tucked herself under his arm, and helped him sit on the ruined floor.
Blood pumped from the gouge in his leg. Geist reached into the pouches of his belt, searching until she came to field medical supplies. They weren’t enough, but they were better than nothing. She wrapped gauze around his knee and then sleeves from her uniform to use as more for his gut.
Although she had corpus sorcery in her veins—the type of skill to heal others—she had never trained it. In that moment, she regretted every decision that had brought her to the monastery. Why had she focused on apex sorcery when it wouldn’t save the people she cared about? But regret was like quicksand for the mind. If she allowed it, the feeling would swallow her whole.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said, her voice unsteady.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“No. I’m sorry. Don’t talk.”
“This is the outcome I prefer.”
Geist brushed the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, her fingers trembling. Who were they going to get to heal his wounds? She had seen soldiers die of less. There was so much blood… It dripped onto the floor and pooled in the newly made cracks and shallow holes.
“I tried not to make it fatal,” Geist said. “You’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.”
A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2) Page 22