The crack of a gunshot nearby brought her head up. Kneeling in the headlamp beam made her an easy target.
Move.
She struggled to her feet and staggered to the side of the car, out of the light and into a void of darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked, hoping to gain some night vision, but her eyes couldn’t adjust swiftly enough.
Out of the black, an arm circled her neck and pulled her upright. The barrel of a gun pressed against her side. “Back into the light. I want him to see you.”
Who would see her? John?
She tried to inhale past the arm around her throat as the man pulled her back into the light.
In the middle of the headlight beam, Karl stopped and put the gun to her head. “I know it’s you, Larson. If I’m going to die so is your little Jewish girl. Show yourself.”
John moved in front of the headlight, his outline black against the bright beam.
“Drop the machine-gun,” Karl demanded.
The weapon fell from his hand.
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
John!
Tears of relief slid from the corner of her eyes, yet something was different. There was a bloodless resonance in his voice. A flat and haunted inflection. Daunting. Deadly.
“I’ve already hurt her, what can you do?” Karl laughed without humor. “Take another step and I’ll put a bullet through her brain.”
John stopped walking forward. “And then what would happen to you?”
“I would die. So what? Everyone dies, John Larson.” Karl pulled her back a step. “Everyone except you and Baroness Nescato.”
“There are worse things than death.” John’s voice dropped low. “I’d be happy to demonstrate how truly painful it can be to remain alive.”
Karl barked a laugh. “Fuck your threats. You are nothing compared to Nescato. She is absolute evil.” He waved his gun in the air. “She is—”
John drew his sidearm and fired.
Aubrielle’s abductor fell back, taking her with him. Off-balance she fell, although Karl no longer held her neck. She landed on her side, half on top of Karl. Before she could push away from the dead man, she was lifted to her feet.
John pulled her to his chest and held her close. “Are you hurt?” He held her away and studied her. “He said he hurt you.”
She shook her head. “He scared me—threatened me. That’s all.” Now that she was safe, and the men who abducted her were dead, she couldn’t stop the tears. She sobbed and held her breath as John untied her wrists, then she was again pressed against his chest, surrounded by arms.
“I about lost my mind,” he murmured into her hair. “When the engine in the truck failed two miles back, I thought I’d lost you forever. I grabbed one of the machine-guns and ran.”
“How did you find me?” She pushed back and tried to study his face in the shadowed light. “And Mae. Did you find Mae?”
“Yes we did, and she’ll be fine.” He pushed the hair from her forehead, then cupped her face with both hands. “As for how I found you, your heartbeat called me.” He pulled her close again.
She leaned her head against his chest. “I want to go home.” She wrapped her arms around John’s waist and relaxed into the warmth and safety of his body.
CHAPTER 34
John kissed the top of Aubrielle’s head then looked at the sky. Last night’s rain clouds had cleared, and stars filled the heavens. To the east, a glimmer along the horizon hinted at dawn. “We should go.”
Aubrielle adjusted her clothes. “The marked man said there would be Germans behind us. He thought they would stop you from reaching me.”
“If there were Germans to the rear, I didn’t see them. But I was closer to you than Karl realized.” John lifted his chin and looked north.
The Germans advance through Belgium.
His head turned to the south.
Hitler or Nescato. Her fate would be the same with either demon.
“He talked about a panzer unit coming through the Ardennes.” Aubrielle brushed her skirt, then captured her hair and twisted it to the side.
“The Ardennes Forest is directly east of where we are now. If German tanks are sweeping south, we won’t make it back to Paris. And if they come west…” his voice faded.
“They’ll come straight at us,” she finished his thought.
John met her gaze. “We’ll go north. There’s a small town not far from here. We can pick up supplies, food at least—maybe buy petrol and try to find out what’s happened.”
“Then where?” She rubbed her arms and John tucked her back beneath his coat.
“After that, we’ll go to the coast. We should be able to find a ship in Calais.”
She looked up at him. “Leave France?”
“Yes. I have resources in Great Britain. I can keep you safe there.”
He walked her to the passenger door, placed the small machine-gun on the backseat, and then circled the vehicle closing the doors. The Renault continued to idle as he sat behind the wheel and closed the door. The gauge showed half a tank of petrol.
That won’t be enough.
He offered Aubrielle a confident smile as he backed out of the dirt lane and returned to the pavement.
* * *
Aubrielle stared at the side John’s face in the soft red glow of dawn as they drove north.
I have to ask.
“Are you cold?” John laid his arm across the back of the seat. “Sit close. I’ll keep you warm.”
She didn’t move. “John, the man who took me, the one you called Karl, spoke of more than troop movements.”
John cast a brief glance at her. “Tell me.”
“Who’s Nescato? Karl planned to take me to her. He said…” She swallowed. “He said Nescato is your mate. That she would kill me, and she is two thousand years old.” She tried to scoff at the absurd notion, but her laugh stuck in her throat.
John didn’t smile. He drew his arm from the back of the seat and gripped the wheel with both hands. “You don’t have to worry about Nescato. She won’t get her hands on you.”
“She’s real?” Aubrielle’s voice rose in disbelief. “Are you married to her, John?”
“No,” he replied, his voice sharp. He gave her a brief look, and his voice softened. “I rejected Nescato, years ago. We never mated.”
They never mated?
She tapped her nail beneath the window.
Another bizarre response.
The sky had lightened enough to see the pristine French countryside roll past. A peaceful illusion.
How do I balance the scales where John’s concerned?
She watched him from the corner of her eye. “How many years ago?”
He began to speak, then made a low growl in the back of his throat. Lips pressed, he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “There is nothing I can say. No explanation will ever convince you I speak the truth.”
“Why?” she whispered. Tremors shook her legs. She rubbed her hands up her arm to calm a sudden chill.
“Nescato is a witch.” He looked at Aubrielle. “An evil, vengeful woman who cast a dark and hate-filled spell.” His eyes returned to the road. “She cursed me—cursed us—because I didn’t love her. I could never love her. My heart already belonged to another.”
Aubrielle’s stomach clenched. “John—”
“My heart belonged to you. I love you. I always have. Loved. You.”
“John, we only met last fall.” She covered her mouth and choked back tears. Tears of terror, of relief at her rescue, and finally, tears of confusion. The world lost its balance. Reality shifted.
“No.” John’s voice held both regret and apology. “I met Aubrielle Cohen last fall. That’s true. But I have loved you, and every incarnation of your soul, for two millenniums.”
She turned away from him and stared out the window as the sun rose. “More magic.”
* * *
John drove in silence. With no way to
prove his words, he had nothing to offer. He glanced at her.
She sat huddled against the door, staring out the window.
Late morning found them near the town of Arras. As he turned onto the main route into town, a French lieutenant stepped from beside his vehicle and in front of their car. He waved his hands above his head for them to pull to the side of the road.
“He doesn’t look happy,” Aubrielle said.
“They’ve secured the town.” John caught her watery gaze and lowered his voice. “I’m going to tell him I’m British. There will be fewer questions. Don’t act surprised.”
The car rolled to a stop and John cranked down the window. “Good morning, Lieutenant. How may I help you?” he asked with a strong British accent. He cast a quick glance at Aubrielle.
She stared at him, eyes wide and brows raised.
The lieutenant looked across at Aubrielle then into the back seat. He sprang back, drew his revolver, and pointed the gun at John. “Exit the vehicle, monsieur. Hands in the air where I can see them.”
“Easy, Lieutenant.” John reached through the window and opened the door from the outside. “We’re not trying to hide anything.”
The French officer ignored John’s statement. “Turn around. Put your hands on the top of your automobile.” He patted down John’s sides with one hand, pulling the revolver from its holster. “Where did you obtain these weapons?”
“The hand-piece is mine. The Thompson—” John looked over his shoulder at the lieutenant, “isn’t mine. A friend with the Sûreté nationale left it in my care.”
“Where was this?” The officer lowered his gun but remained several feet away.
“In Paris.”
“You came from Paris this morning?”
“No. We left Paris last night.” John turned and faced the officer.
The lieutenant holstered his weapon and handed back the revolver. “Show me your papers.”
John pulled the identification for John Locke from his jacket. “John Locke of Essex.”
The officer shuffled through the paperwork and handed it back. “What are you doing in France at this time Monsieur Locke?” He looked again through the window at Aubrielle. “And who is your companion?”
“This is my fiancée, Aubrielle Cohen.” John smiled at Aubrielle. “We came across to administer her late father’s estate. It took longer than expected. We hoped to make it to the coast and depart for home, but I’m afraid we’re about out of petrol.”
“All the petrol in Arras is conscripted for military use. The nearest port is Calais, but the Boches are on the move.” The lieutenant lowered his voice. “They’ve broken through at Sedan bypassing the Maginot Line.” He shook his head as he took the machine-gun from the back seat. “This will stay with me.”
John nodded. “That’s quite all right.” He closed the back door while the French officer inspected the Thompson. “Are we free to go?”
“Oui.”
John slid behind the wheel. “Is there a place we can purchase supplies?”
“Down the rue is Jo’s Café. There is a small market next to Jo’s, although you may be disappointed. Most of the shelves are now empty.”
Allied vehicles and troop carriers choked the roadway as they pulled into town. John parked in a ruelle down from the café. As an afterthought, he tossed the keys onto the front seat.
“What are you doing?” Aubrielle asked over the top of the car. “Someone may steal it.”
“They won’t get two miles. It’s out of gas.” John took her arm, and they crossed the street making their way to the restaurant. “We’ll have to find another way to Calais.” He entered the crowded place while Aubrielle waited beside the door.
French and British officers filled the chairs. Enlisted men lined the wall, eating where they stood.
John stopped the harried waiter as he passed. “Are you serving civilians?”
“Non,” the waiter replied. “Displaced and réfugiés eat next door.”
Refugees?
John glanced out the window at Aubrielle.
Is that what we’ve become?
She spoke with a French officer, her smile cautious.
The officer nodded to something she said while he waited in line to enter the café.
As John threaded his way to the door, a detonation in the distance rattled the dish display on the wall.
The waiter dropped his tray and uttered a short shriek.
Across the room, a British commander came to his feet. “You are safe. Allied forces are collapsing the bridges to slow the German advance.”
Aubrielle stared at John through the window, wide-eyed.
He hurried from the café and took her arm. “The explosions are from our troops. They’re destroying the bridges.”
“Where are we going?” She jumped in surprise as another detonation, closer this time, rattled windows along the walkway.
“Next door.”
The shelves inside the market held only non-edible items. Folded blankets and empty baskets.
A young husband and wife with a tiny babe spoke in hushed tones to a tall, middle-aged woman wearing a white bib apron. She directed them to an area with several empty chairs, and then she looked at John. “Puis-je vous aider?”
“Yes. We’ve been stranded in Arras on our way to Calais. The waiter next door directed us here.”
“An Englishman.” The woman grinned showing her crooked teeth. “My name is Joséphine.” She indicated the chairs in the corner as another explosion rattled the market. “Oh!” She blanched then chuckled, patting her chest. “If that keeps up my last nerve will surely give out. As I was saying, I have a vegetable soup ready. As for transport to Calais, the older gentleman in the corner mentioned Calais as well. Perhaps you could pool your resources.”
“Merci.” Aubrielle murmured. She held John’s arm, exhaustion darkening her face.
John helped her to a chair along the wall.
The young mother nursed her baby in the furthest chair as her husband spoke with the older man at the other end of the seating area.
“I’m going to ask about transportation to Calais.” John picked up her hand and kissed it. “You should try to get some sleep.”
Aubrielle nodded, relaxed her head on the table and closed her eyes.
The older man and the young husband were discussing payment.
“I wish I could take everyone, but space is limited. I have my family to consider as well.”
The young man’s head hung as he returned to the nursing mother.
“John Locke.” John held out his hand in greeting.
The balding man took his grip. “Gabe Lefèvre.” Curly white hair circled his bald head, and blue veins traced across his reddened nose.
“When do you leave for Calais?” John sat beside Gabe.
“In the morning.” He raised a bushy white brow. “Are you interested in joining us?
“Yes.” John lowered his voice. “I overheard you discussing payment. What’s your price?” His gaze strayed to Aubrielle. Any cost.
“Anything that would help us. Blankets. Food. Lacking those things, silver or gold.”
John pulled the pouch from his pocket and withdrew the silver ring. Engraved on the inside were the words: Today Tomorrow Forever—A&J. The outside of the ring had tarnished to a dark gray. He rubbed the metal on his trousers, read the inscription he knew by heart one last time, then held the ring up for Gabe’s inspection. “Will this do?”
Gabe took the ring and studied it. “Oui.” He nodded “This is more than enough.” He glanced at the young couple, then back to John. “It would, in fact, pay for all five of you.”
“Thank you. I’ll let them know.”
CHAPTER 35
They didn’t leave the next morning. Or the morning after. For three days they waited in Arras as the town filled with Allied forces and supplies dwindled.
“It’s time.” Gabe’s command woke the small group before dawn. “Bring your bags and
blankets. Hurry.”
Aubrielle filed out of the market holding John’s hand, their blanket over her arm. A gift from Joséphine. The store owner had given a blanket to each family, along with a small cloth bag with bread and cheese.
In front of the market, Gabe’s elderly wife and adult son watched them through the truck window.
Caleb, Gabe’s brother, and a cousin shared the bed of the truck with the refugees from the market.
Aubrielle had met Gabe’s family over the course of the three-day wait as the brothers gathered supplies and traded for petrol.
No greetings were necessary as they climbed into the back of the truck. John stepped in last and settled beside Aubrielle.
Outside of town, the truck slowed behind a column of soldiers.
“Why are they leaving?” Aubrielle whispered to John.
“They may have been ordered to support the ports,” John replied. “There are three along the channel. Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk. They’ll fight hard to defend them.”
“And we’re going to Calais?” She glanced at John as the sun broke the horizon and bathed the passengers in a pink light.
John kissed the side of her head. “Anywhere along the coast where we can find a ship will do.”
Behind them, a woman walked alongside a mule cart filled with household goods.
In the afternoon, Aubrielle held the baby while Rhea, the new mother, slept beside her husband.
Aubrielle closed her eyes, resting her head against John’s shoulder, only to be jolted upright. She glanced at the young mother.
How can she sleep?
The ruts shook the truck again, and she sighed.
Their progress was slow. They could travel no faster than the families and soldiers walking ahead of them.
Caleb complained continuously about their pace, but there was no recourse. “We’ve gone less than thirty kilometers,” he exclaimed.
“Hush, Caleb,” his brother told him. “You don’t have to walk. Be grateful.”
“I’ll be grateful when we’re on a ship.”
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