by Honor Gable
I take cover behind a tree, and pop off a couple shots. My aim is better now, hitting one German in the side. He spins and falls to the ground, his brother in arms ignoring him and diving behind their vehicle. Two Nazis have made it to the house, and a scream comes from inside. Lois appears behind the man by the car, so I speed back to the house, flinching at the gurgle of death behind me.
I fire the gun from my hip at the Nazi aiming at the window, and rush around the house to the back door. And I bite back a scream.
Audrey lies in a pool of blood with eyes closed and a barely moving chest. My knees bang on the floor beside her. She can't be dead. My hands search for the wound.
Rivka still fires out the window. "Talk to me, Madeline."
It takes a moment to remember that's my name and she's talking to me. "I—I don't know. There's so much blood, but I can't find the bullet hole."
Julian slumps to the floor and his wife screams, her rising voice cut off by a bullet in her neck.
Lois appears inside. "They have reinforcements. We have to go." Her face blanks when she catches sight of Audrey.
Rivka keeps firing, but her voice reaches us over the shots. "You two get her out of here. I'll cover you."
I shake my head and open my mouth to protest, but Lois grabs Rivka and throws her over her shoulder, fixing her eyes on me. "Let's go."
My hands are slippery with blood, but I'm able to get Audrey settled on my back, her dead weight making it hard for me to stand straight. There's no way to grab my pack, but I have my papers in the bodice of my dress. Audrey's pack is still strapped to her back. I hope her papers aren't soaked with blood.
Lois yells at me to hurry as she continues firing. I almost dump Audrey onto the floor at the realization of my stupidity. My gun is strapped to my back under Audrey. I can't help shoot. Praying Audrey takes no more bullets, I fly from the house, fear pushing back the usual exhilaration I experience when I unleash my powers. Lois stays right with me, her breath loud from the shadows.
There's no sound or sign of pursuit, so they must not have seen the way we traveled. We push ourselves for five miles before I stumble, and Audrey and I tumble to the forest floor, rocks and roots cushioning our fall. Lois finally listens to the angry whispered protests from Rivka and lets her down. They kneel beside us, Lois helping me to my feet while Rivka checks Audrey over.
My stomach rolls and I break away from Lois and retch into a pair of bushes until everything in my stomach is expelled. My head spins, but I have to see how Audrey's doing. I crawl to her side, my body not ready to be upright.
"Is she breathing?"
"Yes." Rivka puts her fingers to Audrey's neck. "And her pulse is steady."
"Why won't she wake up?"
Rivka shrugs. "Maybe she has internal damage that's healing. Or maybe healing on this scale takes everything out of her."
I dig in my pockets, smiling a little when I pull out my packet of crushed vitamin biscuits. "See if these will help." Thank God I didn't pack those in my bag.
Rivka takes them from me and crushes a couple even further, forcing them into Audrey's mouth. My body relaxes when Audrey's reflexes swallow it down and she groans and twists her mouth. I sit back on my heels and bury my face in my hands. Please let her be all right.
"Listen. We have to split up. We can't travel together. If safer if we arrive separately in Paris, and meet our backup contacts who only we know about. Hopefully they aren't compromised too."
What will we do if every safe house, every contact is tainted with betrayal?
Lois squats down beside us, giving up her pretense as guard and lookout. "We should change who we're supposed to travel with. That way me and Viola can get you two out fast if need be."
Rivka nods. "I agree. Our covers can easily be tweaked. Especially since we no longer have luggage."
"I'll stay with Audrey. I can't keep going yet anyway. My body needs food and rest."
Lois frowns, but Rivka sighs and stands. "I don't like it, but we have no choice. When you're ready, head to the contact at the shop. Ask for a red scarf."
I fake a smile. "See you in Paris."
They clasp my shoulders in goodbye, and fade into the night. Leaving me to stare at a still unconscious Audrey.
What if she doesn't wake up?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AUDREY
My body is shaking so hard my teeth bang together. I open my eyes, but everything is dark and shadowed. Memories rush back to me at one, leaving me woozy. I run my hands over my chest and body. My clothes are soaked with blood, but there's no pain or wound. Just scar tissue. My eyes adjust enough to see Viola's head bobbing above me.
Am I lying on the ground?
Stars blink down at me.
Guess I am.
Viola's whisper is creaky. "Audrey, we have to get moving."
"Where're the others?"
"We had to split up. Please try to get up. I wasn't able to get us far enough. We aren't safe yet."
Her horribly disguised panic and urgency gets through to me. I stumble to my feet with her help and the planet tilts. Lovely. Viola shoves a vitamin biscuit in my hand, and it helps a bit once I've swallowed it, but not enough.
I won't be able to travel far.
Viola tucks her shoulder under my left arm and takes on half my weight. I hate that I let her. We stay quiet as we hurry as carefully as we can through woods and fields. We're both shaking and gasping when a farmhouse comes into sight.
When she stops, I collapse to the ground. The grass is so soft right here. I just want to lay my head down for a minute. Just a minute.
Viola shakes me and forces me to my feet. "No. Stay awake. I'm going to run over to that house, and find us some food. But you have to stay awake and keep watch."
My head jerks and bobs in what I assume and hope is a nod. I want food and rest and it's all I can think about. A small part of my brain yells that Viola shouldn't be going down there. Especially without backup. But the biggest part of my brain is jumping up and down in excitement because she said the word food.
I try to force myself to focus as she drops her pack beside me and grips her fists in concentration. With a pained grunt she takes off, quickly disappearing from sight. I hate sitting back here waiting while she heads straight into danger.
She's only gone for a minute or two before she returns with full arms. She sinks down beside me and hands me a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. I break them both apart and give her half. She gulps from a jug of milk and hands it to me, milk lining her lips.
We munch on our meal without saying a word, strength and clarity returning with each bite. When I take the last sip of milk at Viola's insistence, my hand no longer shakes. We bury the evidence of our crime and hurry back to the trail, our steps sure and steady.
We need to be in Paris before morning.
I refuse to worry over what waits for us there.
THE BELL TINKLES WHEN we enter the shop, sweaty and dirty from our time in the woods. Thankfully my coat covers my blood-soaked clothes. An older lady greets us with a smile. "Hello. May I help you?"
I strut forward while Viola stays a bit behind, still weak from the journey. "I certainly hope so. I'm looking for a red scarf. Preferably silk, but as I've been so rudely informed at the other shops I've tried, there's a war on, so I understand if that's impossible."
The woman keeps her face smooth, but a flicker passes through her eyes. "I do have a red one left actually. It's in the back, why don't you come with me?"
We follow her through the door in the back of the shop as she grabs a few pieces of clothing on her way. She turns and shoves them in our arms once we're through the door. "Put these on. You're filthy."
She continues to question us while we strip and we fill her in on what we know, hoping we aren't making a mistake. I keep the new bullet scar on my chest hidden from her. When we finish, she blows out a breath and points to the stairs. "Bad news. Really bad. You two head upstairs and stay quiet. Don't g
o near the windows or move around at all. Sound from up there carries horribly. I'll get in contact with a few comrades and see what they know. And we'll get you to a better safe house tonight. Maybe new covers, since yours might be compromised."
Her flat is small and messy. Dirty clothes in a pile by the sink, stockings and slips hanging from the corner of a closet door. Her bed is unmade, but it calls to me. I'm still sore from sort of dying and my head pounds. Viola doesn't look like she feels any better, her face pale and shadowed.
The bell on her door tinkles again and my heart skips a beat. Viola turns wide eyes to me. I put a finger to my lips and she nods, neither of us daring to move. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the sounds downstairs, only getting whispers of footsteps and muffled voices. Hopefully, it's the woman's contact. It doesn't feel safe here, hiding above a store we never left. What if she's being watched? They'll notice when we don't come back out.
We stay frozen for several minutes, barely breathing.
This day is the worst.
At last, the woman bustles back into her flat. "There's no time for questions and I don't know the answers anyway. Now come over to the table."
She grabs a pencil and paper and starts drawing, explaining the directions, code phrases, and what's happening next.
I stare down at the paper, committing everything to memory. The woman returns to the table and lights the paper on fire, throwing the ashes into her tiny sink. She hands us two suitcases. "Here's some clothes appropriate for your covers. Time to go. We may meet again."
She escorts us downstairs and from her shop, the summer sun still lightening the sky more than I'm comfortable with, used to cloudy, wet, English evenings. The streets are crowded, everyone hurrying to finish their errands before curfew.
A couple officers stroll towards us and my body screams at me to run. To turn around. To pull out my weapon.
Instead I thread my arm through Viola's. "Laugh like I just said something funny."
False chuckles spew from her mouth and they turn high pitched and real. And I don't think she can stop. I join in, unease lacing through me and pinch the inside of her elbow. Her hysterics cut off with a shriek. Just in time to pass them on the sidewalk. They smile at us and nod, but we face each other and pretend to whisper and giggle. My heart stutters until we turn down the next street and they're out of sight.
It doesn't take us long to make it to the cafe, which is nothing special. A quiet, dark little shop selling sandwiches and coffee. There's only one table occupied inside, two ladies similar to us, but older. I choose a table out of earshot from them, but not too far to raise suspicions. I grab the chair with its back to the wall and smirk at Viola's disgruntled expression. We try to make small talk, but it's hard, hunger and exhaustion and not being able to be ourselves wearing on us.
A beautiful woman with porcelain skin and greenish-blue jewels for eyes comes up to our table, her bearing regal. "Hello, girls. Sorry I'm late."
We stand and exchange kisses. Her hands dip into the pocket of my jacket.
It's show time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIOLA
We walk through a beautiful part of Paris which has changed little since the last time I've been here. People's clothes are faded and patched up, but it's one of the few differences. The farther we walk, the more pronounced the changes become. We leave the long bread queue filled with giggles and gossip behind and enter into something else.
People dig through the garbage and shuffle along, haunting the streets, hunger and desperation darkening their eyes. The smaller streets stink of bodily fluids and rotten food.
Audrey leans over to whisper. "This is awful. Do you think this is what Lois grew up in?"
I nod, my heart breaking for these people and Lois too. She was orphaned at a young age and grew up mostly on the streets. It's why she married so young. "Probably." No one should have to live like this. No one. Especially the emaciated children with filthy and ripped clothing and no shoes.
We find the green door just like the lady said, and Audrey knocks. "Time to meet our guard."
I roll my eyes, tired of the same joke, as relevant as it is. No matter where we go, there's someone always watching us, never trusting us. A tall and slender man answers the door, tight sandy curls atop his head, sea green eyes shining from his face.
"Can I help you?" His voice is soft, almost a whisper.
Audrey handles the code. "I'm looking for a painting of a nightingale."
He smiles. "I believe I can help you. I have two you can take a look at and see if one's to your liking." He pushes the green door open farther and gestures for us to come in.
The two nightingales are already sitting on his sofa. We rush at them as they stand and I latch onto Lois, the nugget of fear still swirling within me melts away. Rivka clears her throat and we part.
He gestures to the slouching couch and rickety chairs in the middle of his flat. It's one room, a small sofa and two chairs in the corner, a row of cabinets with a small stove across the room and a mattress in the far corner with a curtain half closed serving as his bedroom. "Have a seat. Are you thirsty? Hungry?"
We decline, Audrey saying, "We just want information and a plan." We perch on the edges of the two chairs across from the couch, where Lois and Rivka resume their seats. We turn our attention to the fellow and wait.
He folds his arms across his chest, the rolled up sleeves bunching into the crooks of his elbows. "I'm known as Xavier. I've already been briefed on the troubles you've had traveling here to Paris. Let me assure you, we will find and take care of the traitor. And also let me apologize you've been drawn into it. My main mission is to keep you safe and keep London informed of how your special skills work in the field." My breath catches and stomach swoops. What? How does he know?
He doesn't notice or ignores our wide eyes and terrified glances. "I'm the only one who knows about them and it must stay that way. I don't care how much you trust anyone you may meet during your time here. Tell no one. Trust no one." He hands packets to each of us. "You've been given new identities and I've reached out to contacts for a place for you to stay. Unfortunately, you'll be split up."
He's quiet while we open the packets. My name's the same, but this time I'm with Rivka and we're artists visiting Paris and staying with an old friend. I glance at Audrey with regret. We were supposed to be together.
There isn't much about the woman we'll be living with other than she leads a group of female artists and adventuresses. Sounds lovely, actually.
Xavier's hands fall to his sides and he moves to lean against the wall. "I'm going to start you out on something simple, and you shouldn't even need your abilities. You will take turns watching the Gestapo headquarters for the next two days. When you're done, come here and brief me on everything you see. Write nothing down unless it's in code. And even then only when absolutely necessary."
A flush crawls up Audrey's neck and Lois's eyes flash at him. He's treating us like we're children. It's no wonder London and Pipping chose him. Rivka elbows Lois and shakes her head at Audrey.
"Why are we watching the HQ? Is there anything we're looking for in particular?"
"I just want you to watch and report. That's all for now. When you need to know more, I'll inform you. Tell no one what your mission is. No one."
"We get it," Audrey growls.
His face stays bland and polite as he turns his attention on her. "Good. It's time for you to go. I have paintings for you to take along. Start watching today. Work out the schedule amongst yourselves while I get the paintings."
JADE'S FLAT IS LOVELY, the most beautiful I've ever seen. Even nicer than Dot's house. Gorgeous paintings cover the walls, expensive furniture and Persian rugs fill up the space. I'm afraid to touch anything with my still grubby body, not wanting to mar the exquisite beauty. My eyes drink it in, starved for something to help me forget for a moment the horror waiting outside the doors for us.
"I'm sure you're hungry and tired
and want answers. My maid has prepared a meal for us and I will fill you in over dinner." She leads us into her dining room, a large mahogany table set center stage, a silver service and china plates taking up the middle of it.
Apparently, the rationing doesn't apply to her or she has excellent black market contacts. Real coffee from the smell of it, some sort of roast, fresh green beans dripping with garlic sauce, and gorgeous bread. I almost collapse in a swoon at the sight of it.
She gestures to the table. "Please sit. Help yourselves."
It takes all my willpower not to shove everything in my mouth at once like a street rat and use table manners. I meet Rivka's eyes across the table and roll mine in ecstasy at first bite. I smother the chuckle at her cough and continue eating.
Jade keeps a steady stream of chatter that needs little interaction, giving us a chance to relax.
Her maid starts collecting the plates from the table, her free hand grazing the back of Jade's neck. Jade smiles up at her. "Thank you, darling." She notices my raised brows and smiles with hard eyes, no shame or self-consciousness anywhere on her face. "She isn't actually my maid. She's my good friend, whose identity and place in my household needs to be kept quiet. I'd appreciate your discretion."
My face heats. "Of course."
Rivka raises a brow and her glass of wine. "Of course."
Jade clears her throat. "I'm known for leading a group of women and girls. Artists, writers, adventurers, and others of that nature. Most of them are now of course in the resistance. In my network in fact. But a few of them are not. We have meetings here once a week. You will have to be here for them so your covers will hold up."
She pauses, fidgeting with her napkin. "I should also warn you, I entertain Germans here quite often. I'm seen as a collaborator, but I pass information back to my network. They're the only ones who know of this, but because you will be staying here, I have to tell you. You cannot tell anyone of this or it will jeopardize everything."
