by Amy Cross
“I'm not saying that I understand it,” I replied, struggling to hold my nerve as I saw pure anger on his face, “I'm just saying that it happened.”
“Be very careful!” he snapped. “I will give you one chance to retract this foolish claim, and then – if you persist – I will rip you apart with my bare hands!”
“Go into my mind, then,” I said. “You wanted permisson. Fine, I give you permission, but only for those particular memories. What are you waiting for? In you go, but don't say I didn't warn you. Everything I've told you is true. Every little detail. I saw your brother die.”
“You're lying,” he sneered.
“Then come into my mind.”
I waited, but now he hesitated.
“What's wrong?” I asked. “Are you sared that I might be telling the truth?”
“You can't be,” he replied. “It's impossible.”
“Then why don't you come into my mind and see for yourself?”
Again, I waited.
“You know I'm telling the truth,” I continued. “I can see it in your eyes, Hugo. You know it's true, but you want to cling to the hope that it isn't. You're a coward and you -”
Suddenly he screamed and shook the bars, and in an instant I felt him rushing into my mind. It was exactly the same as it had felt before, when Matthias had been in there, except that this time I felt even more helpless. I staggered back and then I fell, and I barely even noticed myself landing hard against the cobbles as Hugo's mind raged in my head and sought to drag out the memories I promised him. I let out a pained gasp, and in a flash I found myself reliving that moment over and over again.
“I can't let you live,” Hugo snarled in my memories, slipping free of Matthias's grip and stepping toward me. “I'd already realized that before I suffered this breakdown, Chloe.”
“What is this nonsense?” Hugo asked now, as he rampaged through the memory. “Who is that creature? That can't be me!”
“Run!” Sebatian screamed in the memory, his voice sounding contorted and pained. “Chloe -”
Before he could finish, flames burst from his body. I had to cover my eyes as the light flared and filled the room, and I briefly saw Hugo silhouetted against the inferno before he, too, seemed to be absorbed by the fire. Feeling a wall of heat rushing toward me, I turned and hurried toward the door, desperate to get out of the mansion. Reaching the next corridor, I realized the floor was starting to shudder, and when I looked down I realized that the soles of my shoes were starting to burn, as if the entire building was getting too hot.
“This is fantasy,” Hugo shouted in my mind. “It's some kind of trick!”
“Get out of here!” I heard Matthias's voice screaming in my remembered thoughts. “Chloe, you have to -”
Before he could finish, his voice flared and became a brief, pure howl of pain, before vanishing from my mind entirely.
“No!” Hugo screamed now, as if he was trying to reach into the memory and force it to change. “Stop!”
In an instant, he pulled out of my mind and I slumped back, exhausted, onto the ground. My thoughts were burning, and for a moment I felt as if I was going to be dragged down into darkness. Finally I rolled onto my side, but it still took several minutes before I was able to stop trembling with shock. I felt completely drained, and my head was throbbing with pain.
I took a few deep breaths, and then I sat up and saw that Hugo was also on the ground, on the other side of the bars. He looked absolutely horrified by what he'd experienced in my mind.
I waited, but he said nothing.
“I'm sorry,” I said, my voice shaking with fear, “but what you just saw... it's what really happened. I wouldn't know how to fake it, even if I wanted to. I saw -”
“Liar!” he snarled, suddenly getting to his feet and gripping the metal bars. “What kind of infernal creature are you? Even a witch would never have been able to create such a convincing fantasy!”
“I'm no witch,” I told him. “I'm just someone who's caught up in a mess she doesn't understand!”
“What kind of monster could do this?” he asked.
“A human,” I said firmly, “telling the truth.”
“Liar!” he screamed again, and this time he pulled hard on the metal bars, ripping them away and then tossing them aside.
“No!” I shouted, as he stepped into my cell. “Stop!”
“Who sent you to do this?” Hugo asked, towering above me. “What kind of trickery is this? Tell me now, and I might be persuaded to make your death mildly less painful.”
“Everything you saw was true,” I told him, “and -”
Before I could finish, he reached down and grabbed me by the throat, and then he swung me around and slammed me against the wall.
“Tell me!” he snarled, leaning toward me and opening his mouth to reveal his fangs.
“I already did!” I gasped, barely able to breathe. “If you don't believe me, then I give you permission to go into my mind and see the rest! See it all!”
“Why would I entertain more of your pathetic illusions?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “The mere fact that you dare lie to me is a sign that you deserve the most painful death imaginable. The only reason I'm keeping you alive is that I need to know more about why you're here. The moment you are of no use to me, I will destroy you! Do you understand? I will tear you to pieces!”
“Go into my mind again,” I replied. “I dare you.”
He snarled at me, and then suddenly he let go of my throat and stormed out of the cell.
“It's all true!” I shouted, as I felt waves of shock rushing through my body. “I wouldn't lie to you! I couldn't lie to you! Come back here and I'll tell you everything!”
I waited, but he was gone. And then, as I sat shivering on the ground, I realized that in his anger Hugo had stormed out without fixing the bars.
I was free to escape.
Chapter Sixteen
Matthias
I sensed his anger before I heard him slamming doors.
Stirred from my thoughts, I turned and listened to the sound of Hugo storming through the house. My brother had always possessed a fine temper, but on this occasion something was most definitely different. He sounded absolutely furious and, as I stood and listened some more, I realized that I could feel his fury radiating through the entire building.
A faint flicker of a smile crossed my lips.
I took a moment to make myself look presentable, and then I made my way through to his rooms. I had spent several hours studying some of Hugo's old, arcane books on vampire history. Those were not books that I bothered with most of the time, but I was concerned about what I'd discovered in Judith's mind and I wished to determine how best to proceed. Simply asking my brother flat out would be no use, since he always wrapped every truth in layers of deflection. I needed to be smart.
Finally I reached the door to his study, and I stopped for a moment and listened to the sound of him slamming things about in there. I almost turned and left, but in the end I knocked gently on the door and then I stepped into the room.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, as he pulled several books from one of the shelves. “Can't I have a moment of privacy, Matthias?”
“You're angry about something,” I replied calmly. “I thought perhaps I could be of use?”
“There's nothing you can do!” he fumed, before hesitating for a moment “Why? What have you heard?”
“What is there to hear?” I asked, taking a step forward.
“How are you feeling today?” he said, clearly keen to avoid answering the question directly. “How are your wounds?”
“They're fine,” I replied. “I'm very much accustomed to them by now.”
“But they're healing?”
“You really don't have to worry, Hugo,” I told him. “You know, I'm not an invalid. I'm enormously grateful to you for helping me, and for looking after me, but my problems were only ever going to be temporary. I'm almost entirely healed a
lready, and I'm sure that soon I'll be in fine form.” I waited, but he was glaring at me with an expression that seemed one part anger and one part fear. “This spa retreat has really helped,” I added.
“Spa retreat?”
“Whatever you want to call it. I was in a bad state when you brought me to Paris, but the city – especially in wartime – has been just what I needed. There's so much blood and suffering here, it's really helped me along. In fact, I almost don't mind the fact that we've had to befriend such monsters.”
“If you're talking about Zieghoff,” he replied, “then there are far worse men in this world than him.”
“That doesn't mean I have to like him.”
“At least you could respect him.”
“He makes me nauseous.”
“There's nothing wrong with him. He's committed to a cause, that's all.”
“We've had this discussion a hundred times,” I reminded him, “and we never get anywhere. Besides, you still haven't answered my original question. What has made you so angry today?”
He stared at me for a moment, before looking down at the books.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “It's nothing to do with you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He sighed.
“I hear that Klaus Zieghoff has a new prisoner,” I said, hoping to prod him a little.
He glared at me again.
“Just a rumor, going around town,” I added. “You know how people gossip. Is it anybody interesting?”
“Have you been talking to Judith?” he asked.
“No. Why, should I?”
He stared at me for a moment longer, and then he sighed.
“Zieghoff has new prisoners every now and then,” he said, and it was clear that he was picking his words with great care. “I don't have time to keep up with everything that man does. And as it happens, I'm not angry because of anything in particular, I'm just angry about this whole situation. Believe it or not, Matthias, I don't much enjoy spending all this time with humans. You might enjoy the thrill of their wars, but I don't.” He paused. “In fact,” he added, “I've been thinking that perhaps our time in Paris is up.”
“You want to leave?”
“There are other places we can try,” he said, forcing a wholly unnatural smile. “Poland, perhaps, or whatever's left of Czechoslovakia. Or the Soviet Union. I even hear of nasty things happening in Norway. There's also London. I could use some time with a few experts in London, there are some resources that I could exploit. The point is, the world is ours to explore, Matthias, and you might have gained all that you can from Paris.”
“I thought you enjoyed it here,” I told him.
“But this isn't about me,” he replied, stepping around the desk. “Let's move on, let's try somewhere new.”
“You seem to be in a sudden hurry,” I pointed out. “Are you trying to run from something that's here in Paris?”
“Don't be stupid,” he said, but he was still trying very hard to be pleasant and persuasive. Those were not, usually, his strongest attributes. “If nothing else,” he added, “I'm sick of the noise of all those bombs. Let's get away from the Nazis for a while.”
Watching his expression, I was in no doubt that he was up to something.
“I'll think about it,” I replied finally.
He hurried back to the desk.
“I'll start making arrangements,” he told me.
“I only said that I'd think about it,” I pointed out, but he was already excitedly looking through a book of maps. “I haven't promised anything.”
“Just trust me on this,” he said excitedly, as if he suddenly couldn't wait to get us away from this city, “leaving Paris is the best thing for us right now. We'll be out of here by tonight, and we'll never look back!”
Chapter Seventeen
Chloe
The soldiers marched past, their boots stomping against the ground, and I pulled back in a desperate attempt to make myself as small as possible behind the bushes.
I'd been out of the cell for all of ten minutes, and already I'd almost been caught twice. So far, it seemed as if nobody had noticed my escape, but I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody went to check on me. I'd snuck out without a plan, and now I found that there were way more soldiers and guards around than I'd anticipated. I didn't even know the layout of the place, other than that I seemed to be in some kind of large yard, and my mind was racing as I tried to figure out how I was going to escape.
At least there were no cameras. It had taken me a couple of minutes to remember that CCTV hadn't been invented yet.
Looking over my shoulder, I spotted a narrow passage that led between two buildings. I had no idea what was at the other end, but I knew I couldn't stay hiding behind a bush forever. I checked that nobody was too close, and then I scurried as fast as I could into the passageway. My heart was pounding as I made my way along to the far end, and when I peered out I felt a jolt of shock as I saw a soldier sitting on a crate, with his back turned to me.
I ducked down, but already I was starting to come up with a plan.
I was at the edge of a dirt road that seemed to pass along the outer perimeter of the main building, and there was what appeared to be a steep incline on the road's other side. What was down that incline, I had no idea, but I could see the tops of trees poking up. I figured that getting away from the building was my best bet, but – as I looked around for something I could use as cover – I saw that the soldier was smoking a cigarette as he sat contemplating the view.
His gun was leaning against the side of the crate.
As I watched the man, I began to realize that I could sneak up behind him and grab the rifle. Then I could smack him over the head and run down the incline. The idea seemed crazy, more like something that would happen in a film than something that someone would do in real life, but at the same time I had no better ideas. I needed to get away, and I told myself that whacking a man on the back of the head wouldn't be that bad. It wasn't as if I was planning to kill him.
Still, I'd never whacked someone with the butt of a gun before, and I knew I'd only get one chance.
I took a deep breath, and then I began to slowly creep forward. I was terrified that the soldier would hear me and turn around, but there were voices shouting commands in the distance and I was also aided by the rustling of nearby trees, which meant that I actually managed to sneak up behind the soldier and carefully take hold of his gun.
Suddenly he cleared his throat.
I froze, but he kept his back to me.
I looked around, and then I held the rifle up and prepared to bring it crashing down against the man's head.
Which is when I realized that, since he was wearing a helmet, knocking him out might not be so easy.
Damn it.
Again, I froze, with the gun raised but with no actual, actionable plan. I could have tried to shoot the guy, but I wasn't convinced that I could do that without him turning and stopping me, and I also wasn't convinced that I'd actually be able to pull the trigger. I looked at the back of his shoulders and told myself that a strong whack might be enough to knock him down. Then, if I moved quickly, I could hit him again and hopefully knock him out, especially if I could kick his helmet away.
I tried to think of another plan, but nothing came to mind.
Suddenly the soldier half turned, and then he leapt up and turned to look at me.
Instinctively, I turned the gun around and aimed it straight at his face.
“Don't move!” I hissed, keeping my voice low so that I wouldn't be heard by anyone else who happened to be nearby. “If you move, I'll... I'll blow you away!”
He raised his hands, and for the first time I saw that he was a young guy, maybe only in his early twenties. He also had a bandage covering his nose, which looked to have been recently broken.
“I don't want to hurt you,” I told him, before realizing that maybe he didn't even understand. “Do you speak English?�
��
He hesitated, and then he nodded.
“A little,” he said with a thick accent.
“I need to get out of here,” I explained, “and you're going to help me, or... I'll shoot you. I really will. I'm not afraid to use this thing.”
“I believe you,” he said, with his hands still raised. “Please don't do it.”
“What's the quickest route away from here?” I asked, before nodding toward the incline. “Down there?”
“That would do it,” he replied.
“And where would I end up?”
“There's a park, and it comes out near the river.”
“Okay,” I replied, “that sounds like my best bet.” I paused as I tried to work out what to do next. “You're going to come with me,” I told him.
“Why?”
“I can't leave you here,” I explained. “I'll let you go once I'm free, I promise, but until then I have to keep you as a hostage.”
“I don't want to be a hostage.”
“I don't want to have a hostage,” I told him, “but this isn't a day for getting everything we want. Now move!”
He hesitated, and then he turned and began to walk toward the incline. I followed, keeping the gun aimed at his back, and after a moment I saw that the incline ran sharply down toward some trees. Beyond that, there was an expanse of open green land that spread as far as a street, and then -
Suddenly the soldier turned and pushed the gun away, and then he threw himself at my chest. We both fell, landing in the mud, and then I somehow managed to roll on top of his as I grabbed the gun.
He shouted something in German, and then – as I tried to pull the gun away – he took hold of the other end and his finger pressed against the trigger. A shot rang out, and the soldier screamed in agony, and I pulled back just in time to see that his left foot had been blown away.
