by Amy Cross
“You have nothing that I want.”
“Everyone has something that someone else wants,” she said. “It's just a matter of being honest. I have no boundaries with you right now, Matthias. You're immeasurably more powerful than I can ever be, and I accept now that you're not going to turn me into a vampire. But even as a human, I can still offer you something.” She paused. “After all, you were good friends with that Chloe girl,” she continued, “and she doesn't seem particularly special. Whatever she's got, I guarantee I can offer more.”
“You're really out of your league,” I muttered darkly.
“There's nothing wrong with trying to move up in the world,” she replied, “and believe me, I am not going to stop bothering you until you give me something. Chloe must be -”
“Chloe's nothing to me,” I spat at her. “She's meaningless.”
I had to force myself to believe those words.
“Just tell me what you want,” Michelle replied.
“You're being pathetic,” I said with a sigh.
“I don't care! My country has been invaded, my friends and family are almost all dead, my town is on the verge of falling into ruin, and I can't just sit by and watch it all happen.”
“You're not -”
“I know I'm going to die!” she added. “I've accepted that, but at least I'm going to die for France! I'm going to die for what I believe in!”
“Get out of my way,” I said, slipping past her and storming away along the road.
“What are you going to die for, Matthias?” she shouted.
Stopping suddenly, I felt as if those words had cut straight through into my heart. I told myself that there was no need to be worried, that I wasn't ever going to die, but deep down I felt a rumbling flicker of fear. I thought of a thousand ways I could dismiss Michelle's question, but at the same time not one of those ways felt complete. It was at that moment that I felt another flicker of pain in my chest, and I realized that I'd seen enough in Chloe's eyes. I'd seen the way she'd looked at me, and I'd seen the way she'd avoided talking about what happened to me in the future.
If death had a hand, I would have felt that hand on my shoulder.
“What are you going to die for?” Michelle asked again, and now I heard her climbing off her bike and coming up behind me. “Whenever it happens. In a year, or a hundred years, or in ten thousand years when the rest of the world is gone... What are you going to die for?”
I turned to her, but I felt as if I had no answer.
“You keep saying that you're staying out of our puny little war,” she continued, “but you're still here, you're still walking among us. You can make all the excuses that you want to make, but you're here, and you're involved. And walking away means being involved too. Letting the bad guys win? That's being involved. Existing means being involved. You can't not be involved, so why not pick the side that you believe in and help them? If you believe in the Nazis, then join them. Go for it. But if you believe in the rest of us, then how can you walk away?”
“I'm a vampire,” I stammered, “I -”
“Be better than that,” she replied. “Be a man.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I mean it,” she said firmly.
I opened my mouth to tell her that she was wrong, but at the last moment I hesitated. I thought of the sorrow and fear I'd fed on in Paris, and I thought of all the souls I'd drained of their blood. I thought of the horrors I'd witnessed while I was at Castle Malafort, and I thought of the boy who'd been so horribly injured during the previous night. Most of all, I thought of Chloe all alone in that little town, and I realized that – no matter what else happened – she was going to try to help the people around her. And in that moment, I knew that walking away was no longer an option.
“I have to go back with you,” I said finally.
“Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you, Matthias. A thousand times, thank -”
Suddenly a single gunshot rang out, and Michelle flinched and fell forward into my arms. I grabbed her just in time and held her up, but she let out a gasp and a moment later I spotted movement in the bushes ahead.
Another shot rang out, this time missing us by a few inches, and I pulled Michelle away and threw us both down onto the grass at the side of the road.
Voices shouted out in German, coming ever closer, as I dragged Michelle deeper into the undergrowth. She let out a low, pained murmur, and then as I laid her flat on the ground I saw that her eyes were closed.
I pulled her coat aside and quickly found the spot where a bullet had burst through her waist. There was a lot of blood, glistening in the gray morning light, and more was already leaking from the wound. I instinctively began to push my fingertips into the wound, hoping to pull the bullet out, but this only caused Michelle to let out a low, agonized groan. Digging bullets out of vampires might have worked, but humans were more fragile.
Suddenly a voice called out from just a few meters away, and I looked up to see two soldiers hurrying toward us with their guns raised.
“You had no reason to do this!” I snarled. “You cut her down in cold blood!”
The closest soldier raised his gun and aimed at me. He fired, but I was too quick for him, and in an instant I threw myself against his chest and knocked him down. I grabbed his head and twisted it hard to one side, snapping his neck, and then I got to my feet and rushed toward the second man.
He too raised his gun and fired. If he'd hit me at that moment, he might have slowed me down, he might have extended his own pitiful life by about half a minute. Instead he missed, and I was on him before he had a chance to try again.
As I landed on him and grabbed his throat, I told myself that I could take my time with this one. I'd killed the first soldier as quickly as possible, but I could really draw this second one out and make him pay. I saw his terrified face staring up at me, and I was surprised at how young he was. Just a kid. A brief flicker of pity troubled my thoughts as I realized that this was somebody's child, that without the war he'd probably have lived an ordinary and decent life. For a human, at least. In a flash, however, I felt rage bursting through my chest, and I gripped the sides of his head and began to squeeze tight. For perhaps the first time in my life, I truly could not contain myself.
He called out, shouting something in German. Was he begging for his life? For mercy? For a quick death? Those questions didn't bother me, not even for a fraction of a second. I squeezed harder and felt his skull starting to crack, and I saw the realization of his own death in his eyes. And then, even though there was a part of me that wanted to spend days and days killing him, I pushed my palms harder and crushed his skull, killing him far more quickly than he deserved. He let out a strange, guttural sigh, and then he was gone.
I looked around, but there was no sign of any other soldiers.
Clambering off the soldier, I hurried back over to where Michelle lay on the ground. Her eyes had opened slightly, and she was mumbling something under her breath, but already a lot more blood had seeped out from her wound.
“I didn't see them in time!” I hissed, furious at myself for once again having allowed myself to be distracted. “I should never have let this happen!”
She let out a pained gurgle as she reached up and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Help... me...” she whispered.
“I'll get you to a doctor.”
“No...”
She hesitated, as if she was barely clinging to consciousness.
“Help me,” she said again, and then she moved a hand onto my face and touched my lips. “Save me.”
“I can't do that,” I replied. “It would break so many -”
“Help me,” she groaned.
“Please don't ask me to do that.”
“I don't... I'm scared...”
“There are rules,” I explained, even though I knew that my words sounded so pathetically useless at that moment. “It's not as simple as you think.”
“I'm not... do
ne,” she replied. “I don't want to die like this, I want to... die for...”
Her voice trailed off, and I saw the fear in her eyes.
“I'm not afraid of dying,” she continued after a moment, “only of... dying for nothing.”
“You won't die for nothing,” I told her, as I tried to work out if there might be some way I could bend the rules, some way I could save her life. “I promise.”
“I wanted to see my country... free again.”
“You will!” I snapped. “This war won't last forever, and one day you'll be able to live a normal life. There won't be so much pain and suffering, and bombs won't fall from the sky and kill your children. People won't have to die for their countries, they'll be able to live long and meaningful lives.” I paused, feeling a growing sense of desperation. “There'll be hope,” I added finally. “There'll be peace. And no-one will ever forget the lessons that this war will deliver.”
“Win it for us,” she groaned, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Promise me you'll... help us... win... promise...”
I stared down at Michelle's wound for a moment, and then I looked at her face and I realized she was dead. Her eyes were wide open, staring up at the gray clouds above.
Sitting back, I felt something I'd never felt before. Michelle had been a human, nothing more, and I'd lost count of how many humans I'd seen die. Of how many I'd killed. Yet in that moment, for the very first time, I felt the most tremendous sense of sorrow. I knew full well that the rules had prevented me from saving Michelle, I knew that there would have been terrible consequences if I'd turned her into a vampire. The Register of Souls would have demanded answers, and I'd never have been able to justify myself before the Eternal Court. At the same time, my mind was racing as I tried to think of ways I might have bent the rules, and finally all the pent-up fury became too much and I did something I had never done before.
I screamed, in a fit of pure rage.
Suddenly everything changed. I could have saved Michelle. I'd have been breaking all the rules, I'd have had to face the Register of Souls himself, I'd have been dragged before all the courts up to and including the Cardinal of Cinders, but I could have bitten her and given her the strength to live. In an instant, all those rules felt suffocating, as if I'd used them as a kind of shield. I'd hidden behind tradition and behind dusty old oaths, and in the process I'd let a good person die. No matter what would have followed...
I could have saved her life.
“I still can,” I stammered, and I tried.
For the next few minutes, I chewed on her neck and tried to find some hint of life. If there had been even a spark of her soul left in her body, I might have been able to resurrect her. I found her jugular and I fed some of my own blood into her body, hoping against hope that it might not be too late. After trying over and over again, however, I finally had to accept that there was no chance. A few minutes earlier, I would have been successful, but now...
Now she was gone.
I sat completely still for a moment, bidding the anger to leave my body, but finally I began to shake once more with rage. And as I looked up to the sky, I felt all my rage starting to boil over, and I screamed again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chloe
“Did you hear that?”
I turned and looked over my shoulder, but I already understood that the 'scream' hadn't been a scream at all. Not in the usual sense. It wasn't something I'd heard; it was more like something I'd sensed, something that had reached out to me from some far off place. Whatever it was, it had left me feeling deeply shaken, as if something somewhere was very wrong.
“There,” Pierre whispered suddenly. “Do you see them?”
I turned my head, watching the horizon through a pair of binoculars, and finally I spotted a large gray tank rolling along in the distance. I'd seen tanks in museums, of course, and in films, but it was sobering to actually see one out in the wild.
“Is it coming this way?” I asked.
“I hope not,” he replied. “I think not. There has been a lot of movement over the past few weeks. Soldiers and equipment have been shifted from the south.”
“Why?”
“I don't know, but I've been wondering. I've checked with our contacts, and they're also in the dark about it all. And then Zieghoff seemed to change some of his plans in the last twenty-four hours, as if he was accelerating something.”
We watched for a few more minutes, until the tank disappeared from view behind some trees. Lowering my binoculars, I looked out across the fields and waited in case there was any further hint of movement. Every tree, every bush, now seemed like a place where danger might hide, and I was terrified that at any moment there might suddenly be an attack. Pierre had reassured me that the army tended to avoid this particular town, but I still couldn't shake a sense of danger.
“This is all new to you, isn't it?” Pierre said suddenly.
I turned to him.
“It's okay,” he continued, “you don't have to tell me where you're from. But wherever it is, you haven't been in a war before. You're green.”
“I -”
“America?” he added. “Did you come from there? You don't have the accent, but that doesn't necessarily mean much.”
“I don't come from America,” I told him.
“Are you ready to fight, if that's what it comes down to?”
I hesitated, and then I nodded.
“Of course,” I said, not entirely convincingly. “What else can I do?”
“When Michelle gets back,” he replied, “I'll get her to teach you a few things. How to handle guns, mainly. It might sound simple, but there's actually quite a lot to learn. If you want to do it properly, at least.”
“I do,” I said, but – again – I felt that I sounded uncertain.
He stared at me for a moment, before getting to his feet.
“Come on,” he said, “we need to check on the others. There should be a message from our friends in Nouvion, and then perhaps we'll have a better idea of what's coming. One thing's for sure. Someone somewhere is up to something.”
***
“Interesting,” Pierre said a short while later, as he read a note that had been scribbled on a piece of paper. “This lines up with what I've been suspecting for some time.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“According to our sources,” he replied, “something has changed in Paris. Something to do with Klaus Zieghoff.”
I felt a shudder at the mention of that name.
“Zieghoff has always been a very public figure,” he explained. “He's always liked to show off. Over the past few days, however, he apparently hasn't been seen at all, and there are rumors that he's changed in some way. That his plans have been altered. Some of the sources are suggesting that he's completely lost his mind.”
“He might have had a bad time recently,” I replied cautiously.
He glanced at me. “How so?”
“Let's just say that something happened at Chateau Malafort that might have... shaken him, a little.” I was trying to pick my words carefully. “My friend Matthias very nearly killed Zieghoff. I imagine that might have had an impact.”
“I imagine it might,” he said. “This is a bad development. Before, we could monitor Zieghoff to some extent and extrapolate what he might be planning. We could also rely on the knowledge that, despite everything else, he was at least sane. Now that he's gone to ground, so to speak, we're left without so much information. And Zieghoff has always been a very dangerous man. The kind of man we want to keep tabs on at all times.”
“But who is Zieghoff really?” I asked. “I mean, I've heard of Hitler and Himmler and Goebbels, and Mengele, those were the bad guys we got taught about in school, but I swear I never heard the name Zieghoff. Not until I got caught up in all of this.”
“It's hard to believe that his name could ever be forgotten,” Pierre replied.
“None of it makes sense,” I continued. “Is it possibl
e that...”
My voice trailed off, and I'd managed to stop myself just in time. I'd so nearly wondered – out loud – whether there was a chance that I'd already inadvertently changed the course of history. I'd been telling myself over and over that such things weren't possible, but in truth my understanding of time travel was based on things like Back to the Future and Avengers. Sure, those had been fun films, but they hadn't necessarily been truly accurate. Was history fixed and unchangeable, or was I already altering the course of civilization simply by breathing the air in 1940's Paris?
“It's at times like this that you need to keep hope in your heart,” Pierre said. “Sometimes hope is the only thing that can keep you going.”
“It's so difficult,” I replied.
“It wouldn't work if it was easy,” he pointed out. “People all across this country, all across Europe, are having to cling to hope in the darkest times. Hope isn't enough to keep you going forever, but it can help you bridge the gaps when you feel as if you're about to fall into the abyss.” He placed a hand on the side of my arm. “And as it happens,” he added, “I've never lost my sense of hope. Not entirely. Somehow, I always manage to keep going.”
I opened my mouth to ask how he managed, but suddenly I heard footsteps rushing along the corridor, and I turned just in time to see one of the other resistance members racing into the room.
“We've got company!” she gasped. “Company with big guns!”
Chapter Fifty
Chloe
“This is insane!” I gasped, stopping in the doorway and seeing that a couple of dozen soldiers were marching into the town square, followed by a large, lumbering gray tank. “How did they find us?”
“They've always known that people live here,” Pierre whispered, “but they never paid us very much attention before. They wrote us off as just a dying little town. This might just be a routine visit. I've heard of those happening before, but...”
His voice trailed off, and then he turned to me. I could see the fear in his eyes.
