Thirty-Two
The Last Russian Empire
Geist rested on the bench of their stolen carriage. Her vision faded in and out as they hit bumps and cracks along the road. Her arm, a throbbing mass of useless flesh, bothered her the most. The rest of her thoughts were dedicated to Vergess. Would he make it? The others couldn’t seem to tell her.
Defiant stayed close to her the entire time, speaking in German about the usefulness of modern medicine. Geist didn’t catch what he was talking about, but she was glad he was close. For some reason, in her addled state, she still thought she needed to be nearby in order to protect him, even though that was foolish, given her current condition.
Despite the fog of her mind, Geist knew Blick drove the carriage, Dreamer tended to Vergess, and Battery held Anastasie close. Victory slept on the corner of the bench, his haggard appearance far from what he usually displayed.
She closed her eyes. They were making their way out of the nation. Soon they would be free of the chaos. Soon they would return to Verdun.
The boat ride only made things worse.
Geist kept to herself the entire trek, her arm finally wrapped, but not healed. They would have to wait until they reached Cross to get a full recovery. The sway of the boat messed with her insides, and more than once she had to hold back the urge to vomit.
The door to her tiny room opened and closed with a metallic slam, the bulkheads of the ship practically shaking from the force.
“Sorry,” Blick whispered. “It was an accident.”
She didn’t respond. She stayed on her cot, unmoving, and stared at the steel in front of her. The last 72 hours rushed through her mind in a blur.
“I think Vergess will be okay.”
Again, she couldn’t manage to speak.
“Defiant said he would’ve turned a certain color if things were infected, and he said since Vergess can still talk and hasn’t lost cognitive ability, he’ll be fine.” Blick took a seat on the metal frame of the cot, careful not to disturb Geist. “He’s smart, right? He knows things like this. He almost sounds like a doctor.”
With all the research he’s done on the human body, I think it is close.
“Look,” Blick said. “Victory said he likely lives, so that’s good enough for me. You can stop worrying about him. What you should focus on is the grand duchess. She’s… uh… not right. With what happened.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Normally I’m good with women, but she’s deep in regret. Dreamer said we should watch her. Make sure she doesn’t throw herself off the side of the boat. Then Victory said we need to keep an eye on our handguns…”
Geist closed her eyes. Anastasie cared about two things: her family and her nation. Now her family was dead, and her nation was burning. To make things worse, Anastasie had been unable to do anything about it. She couldn’t stop the Bolsheviks—she didn’t even know what they wanted—her father kept her away from her countrymen. Everything had been taken from her, and all in a single night. Such a helpless feeling would drive the toughest of soldiers to the brink of their sanity.
“Do you want me to leave?” Blick asked.
Geist opened her eyes and forced herself to answer with a shake of her head. She wanted company.
“Good, because I wanted to tell you something else. Thank you for getting Victory back to us. I swear, you’re the one person who gets us out of every scrape. You and your damn specter sorcery.” Blick flashed her smirk. “Would you teach me that someday?”
She gave him a questioning glance.
“I don’t have the sorcery in my blood. No one in the Hamilton family has it. But at the rate things are going… maybe one day I will have it.”
The thought chilled her. Was Blick implying they would steal specter sorcery from the enemy? Her father certainly had it, and he needed to be eliminated, but did they want to merge blood from others into their body? Geist hated the sinister gas.
“I’m joking,” Blick said as he patted her shoulder. “I’m not going to get that gas anywhere near me. After everything we’ve been through, I feel like I need to stay away from any freaky shit. Victory told me about Defiant’s uncle. Now that’s a monster.”
The ship rocked with the waves of the Baltic Sea. How much longer until they were home? Geist didn’t want to wait any longer.
Blick leaned his back against the bulkhead. “If you need anything, just let me know.” He crossed his arms. “You don’t look so good.”
With a strong exhale, Geist relaxed a bit and tried to fall asleep.
Her team would handle everything. I just need to reach Verdun to make my reports. Then everything will go back to normal.
Geist sat in Major Reese’s conference room, her breathing shallow and her skin coated in sweat. Cross stood next to her—an angel wearing a nurse’s uniform with a crucifix hanging around her neck. Each slight touch of Cross’s fingers sent a pulse of healing through Geist’s body. It was far better than anything she had experienced before.
“You’re getting better at this,” Geist muttered.
“I’ve had to use it a lot,” Cross said, her words more morbid than her tone implied.
Major Reese paced behind his desk. He had lost weight, and the dark bags under his eyes marred his face. “Geist, my boy. I’ve read through your reports.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered.
“You recovered one sorcerer from House Kott.”
“That’s correct.”
“House Menshov made it out of Petrograd, but they fled the nation without their wealth. The family has requested assistance from the sorcerers of the Ethereal Squadron.”
Geist allowed the information to soak while Cross continued to mend bone and stitch flesh. The warmth of her healing touch offset the normal chill of magic use.
“House Solovyev was destroyed,” Major Reese said with a huff. “The people you managed to rescue from the fires were nothing but servants or the family of servants. Not a single sorcerer escaped.”
The knowledge hurt. “I understand, sir.”
“And that brings us to House Lungin. For whatever reason, we have no information on them. They probably escaped during the riots, but they haven’t contacted the Ethereal Squadron since their departure.”
“I don’t think the enemy got to them,” Geist said. “Their home didn’t look invaded, just wrecked from the Bolsheviks.”
“My intelligence confirms this. We’ll count them among the living for now.”
The mood in the room shifted the moment Major Reese stopped pacing. Geist knew what he wanted to say. The tsar and his family were dead—all except for Anastasie. And no one knew about her. All the newspapers were reporting her death at Alexander Palace, her corpse recovered from the wreckage. Dreamer’s illusions had been flawless, and none of the golden eyed sorcerers would think to check a dead girl for deception.
“We don’t know what’ll happen to the Russian Empire,” Major Reese said, his intense gaze locked on the floor. “General Volkov has been lifted up as a potential leader of the nation. He openly claims he’s a sorcerer and capable of ushering the Russian Empire into a new era of prosperity. He says he leads the White Army.”
“What about the Bolsheviks?”
“They’re led by a man named Lenin, and he claims he’s forming the Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army. He wants to wrest control from the military by declaring General Volkov a traitor. It seems the nation will dissolve into civil war.”
“Aren’t we an ally to the Russian Empire?” Geist asked. Her strength came back in pieces the longer Cross healed her. “Shouldn’t we send soldiers in and help General Volkov?”
“We don’t have the manpower to spare. The Russian Empire has officially withdrawn from the war.”
“What?”
“That’s right,” Major Reese stated, his voice becoming louder with each word. “The Germans and Austro-Hungarians no longer have to fight a two-front war. They can focus their efforts on France, which means we shouldn’t divide o
urselves. The Russian Empire will have to handle the revolution themselves.”
“Without a tsar?”
“There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“We could reveal the grand duchess and she could return to claim her nation.”
Major Reese shook his head. “That would be sending her to the slaughter. You know as well as I do that the enemy wants her. It would be best to allow Lenin and General Volkov to fight it out. Whoever wins will have the power to protect Anastasia when she reveals she’s alive.”
The Bolsheviks won’t care about her, though. They tried to kill the tsar themselves.
“Are the rest of the royal houses safe?” Cross asked.
“No,” Major Reese replied. “We’ll be sending warnings to our allies, but for now, we need to focus on gathering our strength.”
“What’s going to happen to Grand Duchess Anastasia?” Geist asked.
“She will rest here in Verdun. After that, I will ask she fight for the Ethereal Squadron.”
Both Cross and Geist stared, their eyes wide. It wasn’t that Geist thought that was a bad idea—she loved the idea, actually—she just couldn’t believe Major Reese was the one to suggest it.
“I thought you said women shouldn’t suffer at the hands of war?” Geist asked.
“I don’t think they should. Anastasia’s sorcery is used behind enemy lines and can work to France’s benefit. If she stays as an operative of the Ethereal Squadron, we could have a valuable team member.”
“So… as long as she’s not fighting on the front line, you’re okay?”
He nodded. “I understand women play an important role in the war. I just don’t want to see them harmed. Men started this war; men should finish it. And Anastasia has made it clear she wants to support our efforts against Germany and Austria-Hungary.”
The news brought relief to Geist. This is perfect. The grand duchess wanted to help, and now she could. Even if her family and home had been burned to the ground, she could still fight in their stead.
“What’s our next move?” Geist asked.
Major Reese turned and smiled. “I’ve spoken to several generals. There’s been an agreement. We should bring the fight to the enemy. The Ethereal Squadron will infiltrate the royal houses of the Kaiser and the Austro-Hungarian Emperor.”
Thirty-Three
Brothers
Hans Lorenz stood in the court of the Kaiser, his hands unsteady. The words on the report didn’t make sense. They said his brother, Otto, had died by the hands of the enemy in Petrograd. His insides had been torn apart and his eyes gouged. But that would never happen to Otto. Never. He was the Left Eye of the Kaiser. An untouchable sorcerer with powers unrivaled.
A hollow feeling lingered in Hans’s chest. He had known for quite a while his brother had died. He felt it the moment it happened. Even while Alexander Palace burned, he mourned the loss of his only companionship in life—the one person who knew him—his first and only lover.
Lieutenant Cavell had penned the report. He made it clear that specter sorcery had been used to kill Otto, and while Hans wanted to accuse the man, just to purge him from the world, he knew that Geist, the woman from the Ethereal Squadron, was the one to blame.
A woman. Lowly scum not fit to breathe the same air as Otto.
Hans crumpled the report and squeezed it in his hand until his nails pierced the paper and dug into his skin. Crimson soaked the report.
I’ll make sure everything she loves is burned to the ground. Then I’ll gut her and bring back her organs. Anything to avenge Otto. Anything to make sure he rests in peace.
“Hans?” the Kaiser asked, his voice strong yet distant.
“My Kaiser,” Hans said, never looking away from the paper. “Allow me the use of the Kaiser’s Guard. I want to eliminate a branch of the Ethereal Squadron. I want to bring our enemies to their knees and collect their sorceries myself.”
Otto.
His brother.
Hans couldn’t stop thinking about him. Had he suffered in the end? Had that witch tortured him by ripping out his eyes? She’ll never escape me. I’ll make sure her torment lasts an entirety. She’ll beg for death by the end of it. They all will.
The Kaiser chuckled. “Now that the Russian Empire has fallen, that was the exact assignment I was going to give you. Bring me the blood of the Ethereal Squadron.”
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ABOUT SHAMI STOVALL
Shami Stovall grew up in California’s central valley with a single mother and little brother. Despite no one in her family having a degree higher than a GED, she put herself through college (earning a BA in History), and then continued on to law school where she obtained her Juris Doctorate.
As a child, Stovall enjoyed every portal fantasy, space opera, and magic series she could get her hands on, but the first novel to spark her imagination was Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. The adventure on a deserted island opened her mind to ideas and realities she had never given thought before—and it was the moment Stovall realized that story telling (specifically fiction) became her passion. Anything that told a story, especially fantasy series and military science fiction, be it a movie, book, video game or comic, she had to experience.
Now, as a professor and author, Stovall wants to add her voice to the myriad of stories in the world. Everything from sorcerers, to robots, to fantasy wars—she just hopes you enjoy.
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A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2) Page 27