“My decision is final,” Geist stated. “Vergess stays—and we’ll have no more traitor talk.”
Blick ran his fingers through his hair. He paced the small space between beds, each footfall a stomp.
Finally he stopped. “Fine. I’m a man of the Ethereal Squadron. I’ll live by my commander’s order.”
Dreamer, Battery, and Victory nodded, each giving Geist a quick glance before relaxing back on their seats.
Battery hung his head and ran his palms across the tops of legs. “Geist,” he murmured. “We’re going to make it through this, aren’t we?”
She wasted no time in answering. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure this operation is a success.”
Battery let out a sigh. “Thank you.”
The others in the room gave a quiet “Hear, hear.”
Geist let herself relax. We can come back from this.
The door to the guest room opened slowly, revealing a man dressed in humble attire. He wore the dirt-caked tunic of a farmer and the chaps of a horseman.
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said, his French an odd dialect. “But the lady of the house will speak to you once everyone is ready.”
He held a stack of clothing in his arms, clothing far nicer than anything he wore. He placed them down on the nearest dresser and left with a simple bow of his head. Geist wondered if the man knew they were sorcerers as she watched him retreat. Those few “in the know” were often either in awe of magic users or utterly terrified of them.
“We shouldn’t dawdle,” Victory said as he rose from his seat. “The sooner we finish this mission, the sooner we can celebrate our success.”
Geist stared out the foyer window. Germans had taken supplies from Chateau Coppens and fortified the roads to allow for motorcars. It was a mystery as to why they hadn’t requisitioned the entire property. Geist knew they had in France and other parts of Belgium.
Backing away from the thick glass, Geist rejoined her team in the center of the room. The soft yellows and whites of the furniture gave the room a sense of welcoming warmth that Geist thought she had forgotten. It had been close to two years since she sat in the luxury of a fine manor house.
Lucie Coppens, the lady of the house, entered and greeted them with a smile. She walked to the far end of the room, every movement proper and precise. Her sleek meadow-green dress and light ash-brown hair matched the environment, almost as if she were a tree aglow in the light of summer. Geist admired her subtle beauty and wide, expressive green eyes.
“Gentlemen,” Lucie said. “It’s an honor to meet sorcerers from the legendary Ethereal Squadron.”
Geist straightened her new outfit, uncomfortable with the ill fit, and stepped forward. She bowed her head. “Thank you for offering us shelter within your estate.”
“Anything for the sorcerers of Britain and the United States.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Geist said, glancing around the room, “why is it the occupying forces haven’t seized control of this manor and quartered their soldiers here?”
Lucie replied with a reserved smile. After a moment she said, “I am the wife of General Gustav Becker and a distant cousin of Alfred von Schlieffen. When I requested that my family home be left as intact as possible, the military complied.”
“I see.” Then she has ties to the enemy.
Geist had wondered how the Belgian resistance had lasted so long inside occupied territory. Lady Coppen’s explanation helped, but Geist couldn’t help but doubt. Something about the woman’s tone left her uneasy. And why would the Belgian wife of a German general be allowed to reside in her family’s estate? Why wouldn’t she be in the safety of Berlin, far removed from the fighting?
“I’m lucky you were passing through Liège,” Lucie said, taking a seat on a cushioned chair and motioning for everyone to join her. “The occupying forces have taken to drastic measures quelling the resistance.” She smiled wide. “My fellow countrymen tell me that you fought the sorcerer soldiers of both Austria-Hungary and Germany and won.”
Geist shook her head, declining to sit, indicating her team would stand as well. “Luck had nothing to do with our passing. We’re headed for Spa.”
“Spa? It’s a nest of Germans soldiers and highly fortified. And the Abomination Soldiers on guard there are some of the most powerful in the entire military.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why travel there?”
“That information is classified.”
Lucie raised a perfect eyebrow. “You believe a woman wouldn’t understand the importance of such missions.”
“No,” Geist said, stifling a laugh. “It’s simply not up for discussion. It really is classified.”
“I see.”
“But I would enjoy the lady’s help, if you have any means to aid us.”
“Is that so?” Lucie asked. “It’s hard to give you assistance when I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“We need to find the Oberste Heeresleitung.”
For a moment, Lucie was speechless—but only for a moment. She brushed her hair back and replied, “You’ve picked a terrible time to try to infiltrate the German frontline command. If you think Spa will be dangerous to infiltrate, then the Oberste Heeresleitung would be suicide.”
“Can you help us?”
The look on Lucie’s face surprised Geist. A tight smile, knit eyebrows, narrowed eyes—an odd blend of fear and anger. Why fear? Geist doubted the woman worried for the members of the Ethereal Squadron.
She’s afraid we’ll get caught, Geist realized. And that we’ll reveal our connection to her.
“It’s a gathering of sorcerers,” Lucie said. “A grand ball, if you will. Generals and their families will be there, their sorcery powerful beyond mere agents of the Ethereal Squadron.”
Geist caught her breath, dreading the answer to her own question. “Sorcerers from Austria-Hungary will be there?”
“Yes. I’ve seen the invitations. They invited me as well, but I declined.”
“Will the crown prince be there? Leopold?”
“Yes. And the crown prince of Germany. The son of the Kaiser.”
Geist exchanged worried looks with the others, but only Vergess met her eyes with a knowing gaze. If the crown prince was attending the ball at the OHL, her father would also be there, and likely her brother as well.
“Perhaps… it would be in everyone’s best interest if you waited to infiltrate the frontline command,” Lucie stated, her words slow and deliberate.
The shift in temperature gave Geist a shiver. She ran a hand over her prickled skin and shook her head to dispel hazy thoughts. A small piece of her began to think as Lucie did—perhaps it would be better to wait—but another piece of her screamed against it.
“You can always stay here,” Lucie continued, “under my protection. Just until the talks at the Oberste Heeresleitung have concluded. Once the soldiers have returned to their fronts, it should be easier to infiltrate.”
Without prodding or invitation, Blick stepped up to Geist and nodded. “I think that would be for the best. Lady Coppens has been rather hospitable.”
“I agree,” Battery said. “It would be safer.”
Victory nodded. Vergess frowned, caught in Lucie’s gaze but offering no other reactions.
Their words left Geist confused. Their mission was too important to wait. Why did they all want to stay? She couldn’t seem to rationalize their behavior, nor the part of her that wanted to stay as well.
But she couldn’t.
“I’m afraid… we can’t,” Geist muttered, practically forcing each word out of her mouth.
Lucie tilted her head. “What was that?”
“I’m afraid we can’t stay.”
“It’s dangerous to approach Spa at this time. Don’t you agree?”
Geist nodded. “But I can’t stay.” Repeating the phrase strengthened her resolved. She couldn’t stay. No matter what. No matter how much she wanted to.
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Lucie stood from her chair, growing redder with each passing moment. “How foolish! Perhaps you didn’t hear me right. You should stay here. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
“I agree,” Victory said, chiming in. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
His parroted speech bothered Geist more than his agreement. Something was wrong, but her mind erased each thought after the next when she attempted to discern what. Is this the work of sorcery? Geist already knew the answer. Of course it was. But how would she fight it?
“Enough,” Dreamer stated, his tone dry. “You dishonor yourself, Lady Coppens. There’s no need for such deceit among allies.”
Taken aback, Lucie brought a hand up to her shoulder. “How dare you. My craft is meant to comfort and sooth, nothing more.” When Dreamer didn’t reply she offered him a scowl. “Most sorcerers appreciate my methods. I am your ally, I assure you. What I do, I do for everyone’s best interest.”
“You disgrace yourself further. I am not as easily confused as my cohorts. Your sorcery has no sway over me.”
Geist turned her head from one side to the other. Vergess, Victory, Blick, and Battery all stood around as though the conversation were irritating. They didn’t glare at Lucie, however, but at Dreamer, as though he had suddenly begun screaming and foaming at the mouth. Even Geist felt a slight twinge of anger at him for interfering, but she managed to suppress it. The fog in her head lingered, however. It stifled, like packed cotton.
Dreamer displayed no such indication of addled thoughts. He merely leveled his stare at Lucie, waiting for her to speak.
“Both of you?” Lucie asked, shifting her gaze from Geist to Dreamer. “I didn’t think they allowed such men into military service. It’s a sin against our Lord.”
“You cannot dig your talons into the carnal desires of a man who has none,” Dreamer stated. “Nor can you control the iron will of our commander. I suggest you allow us to leave and we’ll separate on neutral terms.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“And we’re declining your aid.”
Lucie made eye contact with Geist.
With a short exhale, Geist nodded. “Allow us to leave. We won’t reveal you to the enemy. We’re soldiers, not untrained civilians.”
Lucie backed away, pressing her body up against the fireplace. Her gaze shifted to the doors of the parlor, and Geist knew there would be Belgians waiting in the halls.
“We’re all on the same side,” Dreamer said. “Let’s not do the Germans’ work for them by fighting amongst ourselves.”
Lucie glowered. “Very well. Leave. I hope, for all our sakes, that the Ethereal Squadron is as effective as they say.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Geist muttered.
She fortified her mind as she turned on her heel to leave. The woman’s sorcery impressed her. It was also hard to stay mad—her magic seemed to suppress anger as well as any will to fight back. Geist marched through the chateau, attempting to keep her thoughts focused while glancing back to make sure her team still followed. To her surprise and good fortune, they did, though their eyes were still glassy and their jaws still slack. It looked to Geist like they were sleepwalking in one big flock.
All except for Dreamer.
As they made their way out the front door, he turned to her with a tight smile. “I’m impressed. You fought her influence better than our compatriots. You’ve experienced the school of amor sorcery before?”
“No,” Geist replied. Amor sorcery? Is that some sort of mind control?
“I see. Interesting.”
“Have you experienced it before?”
“Yes.”
“So much so that it no longer affects you?”
“Amor sorcery preys on the lust of those affected. But if you feel no attraction to the casting sorcerer, then the magic has no effect.”
“She was beautiful,” Geist said, half-answering the unspoken question. She glanced back at Vergess. He had been the least affected of the men, never parroting Lucie’s words. With each passing moment her thoughts cleared and sharpened, and it warmed her heart to think, even under the influence of sorcery, he had remained loyal to her.
“That she was,” Dreamer said. “But such appearances have little impact on a eunuch.”
Geist caught her breath.
Eunuchs were commonplace in Saudi Arabia—all slave men had to be castrated, after all. Her stomach turned. She hadn’t thought stately Dreamer had come from such a brutal place.
“I’m sorry,” Geist murmured.
“Think nothing of it.”
“I will think of it,” she said. When he gave her a questioning glance, Geist sighed. “It’s impressive to come from such a place—to overcome it. I refuse to disregard such an accomplishment.”
As they left the last of the garden walkways and stepped out onto the street, the other members of their team shook their heads and rubbed at their temples. Dreamer ignored their perplexed stares and instead smiled.
“They said Arab crows such as myself could not understand the complexities of combat.” Dreamer stared at the war-torn road ahead. “They told me that slaves were only good for milking goats and serving masters. But each time they whipped me I knew I would always dream of more. I did not fit the role they wanted me to play. I had to leave, no matter the cost, lest I lose myself.”
You must learn your place, her father would say.
You must do as the family tells you, her mother would add.
You have a role to play, for the betterment of House Cavell.
“You look as though you understand,” Dreamer murmured, his smile a knowing one.
“Oh-ho,” Geist said with a chortle. “We’re more similar than you think.”
“All men grow to think differences separate them. It’s only through wisdom do they see we were all made in God’s image.”
The way he said it—for a brief instant, she considered that Dreamer might know who she was. What she was.
No. He couldn’t.
But maybe…
Geist again reminded herself to thank Major Reese for building this team for her. At first she had wondered why a man from the Middle Eastern theater needed to be pulled for her operation, but Dreamer was clearly the best possible choice.
A messenger boy, no older than twelve, ran from Chateau Coppens clutching a small stack of parchment. He wore a peaked cap, much like the soldiers in the trenches, and it slid around his small head with each energetic stride. He huffed as he came to a stop in front of Geist.
“Lady Coppens sends her apologies,” he said through hasty breaths. “She offers you this information. Please, take it.”
Geist took the parchment from the soot-covered hands of the messenger boy. A slow smile spread across her face as the others gathered around to see: a detailed map of Spa and a list of the military personnel in attendance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SPA, BELGIUM
SPA WAS A RESORT CITY, a playground for the wealthy. Its large estates, landscaped parks, and sparkling hot springs made it a destination to behold, even while under the occupation of Germany. But not everything stood as it once had. Archways over the roads had been wrapped in ribbons to symbolize Belgium’s neutrality and plea for peace. The tattered strands of cloth hung off the neglected wooden posts like ghosts.
I guess that shows what the Germans think of peace.
The stress of a single hour behind enemy lines took ten years off any soldier’s lifespan. But the dark of night made the trek easier. Geist managed to keep her heartrate below the panic threshold as her men slipped through the moon-cast shadows.
Nobody spoke. At least they’re not arguing about Vergess anymore.
To her surprise, no one on the team mentioned Lady Coppens or her attempts to manipulate them. All four men carried on as though it never happened. Either they had forgotten somehow or were just too ashamed to admit they had been so easily swayed.
Geist feared Lucie’
s sorcery more than most others she’d experienced in the past. Magic that could affect the mind was the most dangerous kind she could imagine, more so than Vergess’s bulletproof skin or Dreamer’s illusions or even her own magic. Such influence can do more damage than the wielder realizes,. Especially if they manage to control a particularly powerful sorcerer.
The breezy night air brought with it a deep chill. Geist found herself missing her usual insulated uniform. The soft civilian outfit offered little defense against the weather.
“There it is,” Blick whispered, his eyes bright as stars.
He pointed into the distance.
“You sure?” she asked, holding up the map and pointing to the OHL. “It has to be this one.”
“I’m sure. There’s way too much security there to be anything else.”
Indeed, the streets hummed with the music of marching soldiers and tired horses. Despite the late hour, men swarmed the block, some with storm lanterns that flashed like eyes in the night.
Geist and her team stayed within the foliage of the Spa park, nestled in the shrubs not ten feet from the road. Victory’s sorcery kept them alert for nearby soldiers, and Dreamer’s illusions kept the team camouflaged.
“What’s the plan?” Battery asked. He crouched down low and cursed under his breath. “Our supplies were lost in Liège.”
“We’ll need to improvise,” Geist said. “Lucie gave us some supplies, but we don’t have anything for a second run. We’ve only got one shot at this.”
“I don’t like going in without a contingency.”
“We don’t have the luxury of contingencies.”
Battery replied with short exhale. “Then let’s hope we get it right the first time.”
Through the fog and darkness, Blick scanned their surroundings, careful not to stay up too long or stare in the same direction twice. “There are checkpoints at every entrance. One at the gate, one at the door… they even have a checkpoint for the supplies brought in through the back.”
“Who are they letting through?” Vergess asked.
The others turned to face him. He hadn’t spoken since the chateau and the sound of his gruff voice caused them to flinch.
The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun) Page 27
