“Officers,” Blick said. He kept an eye on Vergess as he motioned to the southern road. “And occasionally women. They ride in at different points.”
“That’s standard practice,” Vergess said. “They’ll have the military personnel go through separate checkpoints than the civilians.”
“Good to know.”
“They’re checking IDs on everyone and comparing them to a master list. Weapons won’t be permitted unless authorized. And there’ll be sorcerers posted to sniff out foreigners.”
Victory nodded. “That’s all well and good, but we need to move. Follow me.”
Weaving through the park’s benches and fountains, Geist followed Victory as best she could. The dewy night fog made it almost impossible to navigate the city, but Geist hoped what hindered her and her team would hinder their enemies as well.
Geist stopped behind Victory once they reached the edge of the market street. A small bakery stood on the corner, pale light emanating from the front windows. No doubt the baker and his family were within, preparing for the new day.
Victory motioned them to the back of the building. “What’s wrong with your arm?” Battery asked, motioning to the dull patch of bruises that ran up to Geist’s elbow.
Geist grimaced. Her shirt had rolled up in the running, and she smoothed it back into place. “I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are you sure?”
“This isn’t the time, Battery,” Blick said with a groan. “You can’t even lift your arm over your head—maybe you should focus on yourself.”
Battery tried to lift his arm, but winced before his hand got higher than his shoulder. The flamethrower had done more than Geist suspected. She hoped Battery would be able to recover.
Or maybe I should take my own advice. Geist pulled back her sleeve and peeked at the skin. The edges of the bruise were a wash of deep reds and purples, like a deep battle wound.
Geist shoved the sleeve back down her arm.
“We should stake out the far civilian road,” Dreamer said. “If we subdue some of the guests, we could take their IDs and passports and slip into the OHL in disguise—with my illusions to assist, of course. From there we can search the building for the magi-tech research.”
“Good plan,” Geist replied.
That was all they needed. Notes, journals… anything to start their own research of magic-infused weapons, like the GH Gas.
Or, Geist thought, at least a way to counter it.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
Victory sighed. “According to the information provided by Major Reese, the OHL meetings will last five days, but we don’t have the luxury of waiting. I’ve been using my sorcery since we arrived. We have two days before we’re discovered. Someone… turns us in. I think it’ll be a hostage we’re likely to take in the future, but I’m not certain.”
“We’ll pretend we only have a few days then,” Geist said. “Anything is better than getting caught. With Battery’s help, my sorcery should be strong enough to help me find what we need once we infiltrate the command center.”
The others murmured agreement, and for a brief moment, Geist allowed herself a flicker of hope.
All we have to do is get in.
The rising sun brought an unexpected opportunity.
Geist ignored the roar of triplanes as her eyes locked onto the first horse-drawn carriage to approach without a motorcar escort. The double-headed black eagle insignia engraved on the door told her the occupants were from Austria-Hungary, no doubt civilian sorcerer nobles invited to partake in the war talks.
Unlike mundane civilians, sorcerers were included in major state decisions. Abomination Soldiers and Magic Hunters came from noble families, after all, and generals often had to convince the young sorcerers’ parents to agree to send their children to war. A particularly stubborn patriarch might be promised a favorable marriage for his soldier son or even a captured enemy sorcerer to add to his family’s bloodline.
Not only that, but grudges between sorcerous families often spanned whole generations, even whole centuries. Some families needed only the opportunity for deadly revenge against a rival house to be persuaded to join up—an opportunity the generals were more than happy to provide.
An ornate carriage trotted toward them, its windows covered by thick curtains. Vergess and Blick stepped out from the sidelines and took positions on the opposite sides of the road. They wore the official garb of the German checkpoint soldiers thanks to Dreamer’s sorcery, and the driver of the carriage pulled on his horse’s reins.
They stood a half mile from Spa, but the curves of the road and the lush trees provided a fair amount of cover. Vergess and Blick had no stand or paperwork station, leaving the driver of the carriage glancing around.
“Papers, please,” Vergess said, stepping up to side of the vehicle.
“I have them here,” the driver replied, unfolding crisp papers from the bench atop the carriage. He handed them down with hands red and swollen from the cold. Geist suspected his gloves had been requisitioned by German soldiers many checkpoints ago.
Vergess snapped the papers straight and scanned through them. “Count Ernst Mittrowsky and his two sisters, Countesses Margarethe and Berta Mittrowsky?”
“That is correct.”
Geist, hidden behind the low branches of magnolia tree, gritted her teeth. She had been hoping for a carriage full of men. Disguising her team would be far more difficult if she had to accomplish it with women’s clothes.
Blick walked up to the carriage door and knocked.
The door opened to reveal the three nobles within. The man, Ernst, leaned out and frowned. “Another one? I daresay, these stops are getting ludicrous. It’ll be midafternoon before we arrive, mark my words.” He tugged at his wax-sculpted mustache and flattened it into place under his nose. “Go on then. We’re done here, are we not?”
“We need you to exit the carriage,” Vergess stated, the authoritative tone of his voice harsh and uncompromising. He handed the paperwork back to the driver.
Ernst stepped out with a huff. “What’s the meaning of this?” He stood tall and proud in his dress slacks, coat, and button-up silk shirt.
Without warning, Blick lifted his rifle and struck the man hard across the face. The crunch of bone startled the driver and the two women in the carriage, all three gasping in chorus.
Vergess grabbed the reins of the horse and pulled the driver from his seat before anybody could react. The older man, his hands shaking as he attempted to stand, tried to call out, but Dreamer leapt from his hiding spot and grappled him to the ground. He wrapped an arm around the driver’s neck and yanked back, strangling him into unconsciousness with savage expertise.
Opening the second door, Vergess held up his handgun and motioned for the two countesses to exit. Both women glanced over to their brother lying motionless on the road before stepping out with tepid movements.
The two women wore enough wealth on their bodies to feed a small town. Each dripped with pearl-and-diamond necklaces, accentuating the low cut of their long, flowing dresses. They pulled their thin shawls tight across their bodies, their shoulders shaking in the cold.
Geist, Victory, and Battery stepped out from their hiding places. Geist drew her weapon, and Battery gave her an odd glance.
“There’s no need for that,” he said. “You’ll frighten them.”
Geist considered this. She didn’t blame them for not wanting to fight six strangers in the middle of nowhere, especially with their brother incapacitated. Even if they were sorcerers, not all had practiced magic in combat.
“All right,” she said with a groan, holstering her weapon. “But stay on guard.”
“Thank you.”
Dreamer dismounted the driver’s unconscious body and brushed himself off. “Every moment on the road is a risk. We should hurry.”
Everyone turned to Victory. He shook his head. “Don’t worry. We’re not in any immediate danger.”
&n
bsp; “What’re we going to do with them?” Blick asked, kicking the count. The unconscious man gurgled.
“If we leave them here, they’ll be found before we’re finished inside,” Victory said, rubbing at the bandage over his eye. “We can secure them down by the nearest stream. No one will find them in time.” He spoke in English, and neither of the countesses seemed to react. Geist assumed they couldn’t understand.
“We have papers for three people,” Dreamer announced. He grabbed the paperwork off the bench and waved it around. “If we’re to use these as our disguises, only three of us can go.”
“We can’t use these,” Battery said as he motioned to the Austrian noblewomen. “Two of them are women. That means only one of us will be going in.”
“You underestimate my sorcery, good sir. I assure you that, with the right tools, I can disguise a like-sized man.”
“As a woman?”
“Of course.”
The count on the ground moaned. He stirred, but made no attempt to stand. Vergess pulled rope from the side of the carriage and bound the man. When he reached for the women, he handed Blick the tools and took a step back. Blick regarded him with a sneer and continued, treating the women delicately as though trying to woo them with his knots.
“You’re in good hands,” he said with a smile—though again, neither seemed to understand him.
Battery glanced from person to person, sizing them up with his gaze. The women were short—the same height as Geist and Battery. It became apparent what Dreamer meant.
“Does it look like I visit Molly houses?” Battery asked, flushing mightily.
Dreamer shook his head. “Of course not. But you are the right size.”
“Why don’t you conjure a woman around me? We can get the same effect.”
“My sorcery doesn’t work that way. Illusions are like paint. They need a canvas.”
“W-well, maybe coupled with potentia sorcery you can craft something from nothing.”
As he spoke, Battery kept shifting his weight back and forth, occasionally throwing apologetic glances over his shoulder at the two women.
“You can only empower one person at a time, right?” Geist asked. “I’ll need your help once we’re in the OHL. Empowering Dreamer might work, but it’s a luxury we can’t afford.”
“They’re wearing dresses,” Battery said, ignoring Geist’s observation. “If your illusions are paint… I mean, well, does that mean me—er, I—would be wearing…?”
Blick snorted. His chuckle spread to Victory and, to Geist’s surprise, Vergess. The three struggled to bite back outright laughter, which only seemed to make Battery madder. The younger man looked like a ripe tomato ready to burst. Geist almost joined in, but held herself back—barely.
“What will it take for you to disguise us?” she asked Dreamer. “Will we need to wear the dresses?”
Battery bunched his shoulders to his neck.
“Take the shawl,” Dreamer instructed. “I can affix my magic to them.”
Geist took one from a countess, much to the countess’s shock. Before anyone could comment, Geist wrapped the cloth over her shoulders and allowed it to drape down to her ankles. The thin material was soft to the touch and there was plenty of it, practically a cloak when secured shut. It swayed with any movement, and Geist took the opportunity to twirl. The shawl fluttered outward in elegant circle. It had been so long since she actually wore a dress.
Dreamer touched the fabric once it settled. His illusions stitched themselves into the garment, transforming it into a lovely, albeit simple, cotton gown. With the shawl over her shoulders and arms, Geist appeared to be covered from neck to toe.
You will wear a dress for all formal occasions, her mother said, scolding her every time she attempted to wear her brother’s outfits. You will act like a lady at all times, do I make myself clear?
She shook the words away. There had been a time when she’d enjoyed wearing women’s clothing, but those days were long gone.
While the others nodded in approval, Vergess stared, his eyes lingering on her curves.
“What’re you staring at?” Blick asked with a laugh, almost smirking. “Haven’t seen a woman in that long, huh?”
“There’s ample room for handguns under the shawls,” Vergess said, turning away. “But I doubt it’ll hide our rifles.”
“Is that what you were looking at?”
Geist rubbed her cheeks, hoping nobody saw her blushing. Every bit of attention she received from Vergess was like the first time all over again.
When she let the shawl fall off her shoulders, the illusions shimmered and faded, returning the shawl to its original state. A perfect disguise that could be easily discarded. Geist couldn’t ask for anything better. Even their short hair wouldn’t play too much of a problem. It was an acceptable practice for women to cut their hair short to help with the war efforts, either as a show of solidarity or for resources needed for the injured soldiers.
Dreamer rewove the illusions as Geist fastened the shawl back in place. But, unlike last time, he wove illusions to a dress far more slimming than before, even going so far as to duplicate the necklaces the countesses were wearing.
Blick lifted both eyebrows. “You look good.”
Vergess shot him a glare. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Calm down. I’m not about to forget he’s a man. I’m just taking the piss.”
“It’s fine,” Geist said, waving away the comment. “I know I look good.”
Blick chuckled. “Careful. Some men inside might mistake you for breeding stock.”
“They’ll be in for a surprise.”
Forsaking restraint, the others laughed aloud. She spun again, this time admiring the intricate detail of Dreamer’s illusions—the jewels embedded in satin. The dress fluttered outward, and if the shawl stayed over her shoulders, it appeared to be a normal functioning outfit, covering her civilian clothing underneath.
The Austrian noblewomen watched in total bewilderment, unable to understand the conversation and observing Geist’s team with furrowed brows and wide eyes.
Even Geist had to laugh.
And it felt good to experience something other than battlefield emotions. She could sense the members of her team needed levity.
Battery uncrossed his arms as the red drained from his face. “Geist, you aren’t embarrassed?”
“Me?” Geist retorted. “I think all the other ladies will be embarrassed once they realize they’ve been doing it wrong this entire time.” She fluttered her dress a second time.
Battery stared at her. “You’re a regular joker, aren’t you?”
“Better than a blushing virgin.”
“H-hey! I’m just, well—you don’t have your brothers here!” His blush returned in full force, and he hid his face in his hands.
Victory and Blick couldn’t contain themselves. They shook their heads and snorted. Battery flounced back and forth, their merriment dulling his anger with each passing second.
“You know I’ve operated as a spy for some time, right?” Dreamer asked.
Battery lifted an eyebrow. “What of it?”
“I’ve disguised myself as a woman on several occasions. Trust me, it’s actually easier to fool soldiers with this disguise than any other.”
“Really? Even you dressed like this?”
“You cannot conceal your true nature from the eyes of our Lord. Clothing is temporary.”
“Fine,” Battery groaned in exasperation. “Give me the damn shawl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
OHL
THE BUMP AND ROCK OF the carriage irritated Geist’s stomach. She hadn’t eaten a full meal for days on end, and her whole body felt like it would fall apart at any moment, but she silently pleaded with it to wait until the operation concluded.
Victory, acting as the carriage driver, rode on the outside and controlled the horses through the roads of Spa. Blick and Dreamer hung off the side of the carriage and played out the
roles of doormen, neither man saying a word. Geist glanced between Battery and Vergess, her only companions in the carriage.
Vergess offered Battery a one-sided smile. “You look cute.”
“Shut it,” Battery snapped.
“Tsk. That language isn’t very becoming of a young lady.”
Both Geist and Vergess got another round of chuckles as Battery sank back into his seat. The carriage compartment was large enough that Battery could squirrel away in the farthest corner—his shoulder up against the door, his back to the others. His blush matched the shade of pink Dreamer had made his “dress” exactly.
Dreamer’s illusions had done the trick. Battery would never be recognized, not with his girlish face, short golden hair, and long eyelashes.
Geist’s stomach growled.
“I’m sure there’ll be food in the OHL,” Vergess said.
Then he pulled her close.
Geist offered him a smile and happily leaned against his side. Battery glanced over and glared. “What are you two doing?”
“Acting the part,” Geist replied with a chuckle. She took the moment to fantasize, if only because the opportunity presented itself.
Battery continued his icy stare. “Aren’t we supposed to be siblings? We don’t have to pretend to lovers or mistresses.”
Vergess snapped his fingers. “Damn. And you’re both such a catch.”
Again, Battery threw himself into the corner of the carriage, his face burning. “I’m trying to be serious! Siblings don’t cling to one another.”
Geist released Vergess and sat up.
“We’re almost to the OHL gates,” Vergess said, staring down at her. Then he smiled and added, “You look beautiful, by the way. I daresay you’ve worn something similar before.”
His playful tone got her blushing faster than anything he had done before. Since when did he get so flirty?
“Thank you, my lord,” Geist said, forcing herself to use her normal, feminine voice.
Vergess flushed, turned away, and shook his head. “Enough games. And don’t ever call me that again.”
“Not in public, at least.”
Vergess pursed his lips but said nothing else.
The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun) Page 28
