He wore the outfit of a count, his styled suit the height of modern fashion. If it hadn’t been an illusion, Geist would say it was worth more than some houses. Vergess had the poise of a king.
The carriage came to a stop.
The mood shifted in an instant. Battery sat up in his seat, proper and dutiful, staring forward without a hint of discomfort. Geist did the same, her body stiff and her veins filled with ice.
They had arrived at their destination: the Oberste Heeresleitung. The frontline commander for the German offensive. The OHL.
Victory spoke loud enough to hear, but the thick wood walls that surrounded Geist, Battery, and Vergess muffled his words. More voices rang out in response until the doors on both sides were thrown open.
The OHL gate guards glanced around with expressionless faces. They held their rifles in both hands, using the bayonet to shift fabric and prod empty space. Their coats hung heavy and damp in the thick fog.
“This everyone?” one guard asked. “No others?”
“No, sir,” Victory replied.
“Any weapons?”
“None.”
“We’ll be searching all trunks regardless.”
“As you wish.”
Blick and Dreamer opened the trunks and allowed the Germans to inspect every inch of the carriage without fuss. No words were exchanged until the gate guards had finished their search.
“Enter,” the one guard said. “And turn to the left.”
“Yes, sir.”
The doors shut, but Geist kept her guard up. The carriage moved forward, past the iron fence that surrounded the OHL. Men with rifles stood every twenty feet around the perimeter and Geist peeked through the curtain in an attempt to get a good count.
Hundreds.
There were hundreds of soldiers standing guard.
Victory took the left path and found a space cleared for carriages. The right turn in the driveway was occupied by motorcars; Geist assumed the horses didn’t like the roar of engines.
Although they could have stopped their carriage near the front, Victory urged the horses to take them behind the thirty other carriages that stood idle. Footmen and drivers shared cigarettes while waiting for their noblemen; some even had tins for coffee and soup. They regarded the incoming carriage with little interest, some not bothering to look up from their own conversations or card games.
Once the vehicle stopped, the doors opened, and Blick, Victory, and Dreamer piled into the compartment. The space allowed for it, but it was a tight squeeze. Geist leaned heavy against Vergess, pressing herself against him to avoid touching the others. He clenched his jaw, his grip on his pants tightening, but he otherwise made no fuss.
“There are doors that lead inside, just around the western wall,” Victory whispered once the door was shut behind him. “They lead to the kitchens. Three of us can enter as wait staff while the other three go as nobles.”
“We’re all going inside?” Blick asked in a whisper.
“Only those of us who can speak and read German should bother,” Geist said. “Anyone else would be dead weight as far as searching for our information goes.”
The group glanced between each other.
Dreamer cleared his throat. “Of the West Germanic languages, I’m afraid I’ve studied English and English alone.”
“I’m not very good at German, either,” Blick admitted.
Battery regarded his brother with a disappointed frown. “What did Mum say about your studies? She knew you shouldn’t have signed with the Ethereal Squadron when Victory did. You lost out on two whole years.”
“In that dress, you nag just like her.”
“Well, I never—er—that’s just—”
“Quiet,” Victory said as he held a hand out to distance them. “This isn’t the time. Blick stays outside.” He glanced over at Dreamer. “You can illusion me to look like one of the help, correct? I’m fluent.”
Dreamer ran a hand over his face—right where Victory’s bandages would lie—and shook his head. “I cannot hide that injury. I’m sorry.”
Geist cursed under her breath. Having a driver with an eyepatch—especially during wartime—was no strange occurrence. But a nobleman with such an injury? Or one of the high-class waitstaff? It would draw attention, even from halfway across a room. People would ask questions.
Geist had seen it a hundred times in the past.
Then again, Victory had proven time and again he could handle himself in even the stickiest situations. Geist didn’t doubt his abilities, but did she want to take the risk?
“Vergess, Battery, and I will go inside as nobles,” she intoned. “You three will secure us a safe means of exit while the rest of us search.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Battery asked. “Victory’s sorcery could help us navigate the building.”
“We have a layout of the estate thanks to Lady Coppens. And I’ll be able to search the place with ease as long as you’re empowering me.”
“But still. He could help us avoid trouble.”
Victory shook his head. “My insights don’t always provide a solution. Sometimes I see a situation, but no way to correct course. I think you can still do well without my aid.”
“It’s better this way,” Blick said. “While you get a lay of the land, Victory can focus on using his sorcery to find an escape route. Maybe he’ll find you can’t from the inside.”
Geist nodded. “That’s true.”
Everyone shared a collective nod.
“Be quick,” Dreamer said. “And be safe.”
He waved his hand, adding a few extra details to his illusions, including a few minor adjustments to their facial features—the slope of an eyebrow, the jut of a chin, the point on a nose. When he was finished, Geist was certain: even their own mothers wouldn’t recognize them.
Good.
Geist, Vergess, and Battery slipped from the carriage. The cold Belgium air sent shivers down Geist’s spine, but she ignored the urge to return to the cramped warmth of the carriage compartment. The other two shrugged off the cold with ease.
She took two steps forward and Battery came to a halt. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmured.
“Well, we can’t go back,” Geist replied.
“Wait a moment.”
Battery turned back and opened the carriage door. He withdrew his Lancaster pistol. “You should keep this,” he said, handing the weapon butt-first to Victory. “Just in case.”
“I have my own sidearm.”
“I know. I’d just feel better if you had this one. Just take it.”
Victory took the weapon and turned it over in his hand. “Ever thought about studying destiny sorcery? It’s in your blood too, you know.”
Battery whirled around on his heel. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s what you do. There’s no point in competing.”
Victory chuckled. “Lucky me.”
“Come off,” Battery said with a huff. “We’ll be back soon.” He shut the door and hustled back to Geist and Vergess, his face flushed all over again. Geist lifted her eyebrow. He pushed past her. “He doesn’t mean it.”
Without further comment, Geist headed for the entrance to the OHL.
The frontline command was once a two-story Belgium manor. Ivy grew up the stone walls—trimmed neat around the windows and entrances—and the roof came to points at the corners and in the center, mimicking the silhouette of an old-world castle. The white and black flag of Germany, as well as the yellow and black flag of Austria-Hungary, waved from every flagpole and hung over all major entranceways.
Servants catering to the soldiers rushed to and fro, gathering food from newly arrived shipments and rushing them to the kitchens. Geist didn’t bother examining them for long. She walked past, her gaze set to the large double doors of the front.
Vergess stepped up to her side and they entered together.
The gaudy halls of the Belgium manor seemed to bleed wealth. Fine rose porcelain vases sat at
op solid birch wood stands accented by twenty-four karat gold-plated studs. The rich red hall runner carpets and high dove-white walls could make a giant feel small. Geist understood why the highborn generals and staff officers preferred the comfort of the royal life over the grime and disease in the trenches.
It’s unfair. All those young men dying on the front line, and the men giving the orders get to hide here in these palaces—palaces stolen from a conquered nation.
Generals, ladies, dukes, duchesses, and all manner of people in between, lingered in the hall. Fine dresses and expensive jewelry were on display from one wall to the next.
Geist turned to Battery and held out her hand. “Please. I need your power.”
He placed his hand on hers. “Right.” His sorcery flowed into her, giving her both additional strength and confidence.
“Remember to stay close,” he said. “I don’t think I can keep this up if you were on one side of the manor and I was on the other.”
“We’ll go together,” Geist said. “We’re sisters, after all. Vergess, you can search the west wing.”
When Geist went to turn away, Vergess grabbed her arm. “Wait. There’s no reason to split up yet. It might be safer if we stay as a group and search for places of interest. Then you can break away and investigate with us nearby.”
“You’re worried?”
Vergess motioned to the end of the hall with a jut of his chin. Geist glanced over her shoulder and caught her breath. Abomination Soldiers stood by the far doors, their eyes glowing gold, just like Blick’s.
Of course they would have sorcerers to weed out intruding magic-users, she thought, gritting her teeth. If we’re discovered…
“Don’t panic,” Vergess said, his voice low. “And act natural. As long as we avoid the Abomination Soldiers, we should be fine.”
“Yes. We’ll be fine. They’re rather noticeable, after all.”
The front doors opened and a waft of cold air rushed down the hall. Servants ran to straighten the rug and move guests aside. A man stepped inside, and to Geist’s great horror, she knew him. There was no mistaking that face.
One of the men at the very top of the Austria-Hungarian high command.
A man responsible for waging war against the rest of the world.
The crown prince of Austria-Hungary… her ex-fiancé… Leopold Habsburg-Lorraine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE MAGIC-TECHNOLOGY
GENERAL
LEOPOLD WORE THE UNIFORM OF a general, a cape on his shoulders with a black cross, a military merit stitched straight into the fabric. He looked as any prince should—tall, perfect posture, dark hair slicked back and clear eyes scrutinizing the crowd with an intelligent gleam. It had been years since Geist first met him, but he’d been the same then. Arrogantly confident, almost to the point of boredom.
He’s here already? Geist shook her head. Fuck. She’d hoped to avoid the more high-profile nobles by arriving early—part of her wondered, perversely, if Leopold had the same idea.
“This way,” Geist whispered.
She hustled down the first hall off the main entrance, desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and the man she’d once been betrothed to.
Vergess and Battery followed, but once they rounded the corner, Battery stopped and knit his eyebrows together. “Geist, what’s wrong?”
“Leopold Habsburg-Lorraine,” she muttered. “He’s here.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Vergess cursed under his breath. Then he glanced to the doors in the hallway and pointed to the kitchen. “What’s the plan now? Return to Dreamer and look like one of the help?”
Geist shook her head. “I’m going to scout ahead. Alone. You two stay within this wing of the OHL.”
“What? Why?”
“There are too many variables. One wrong move, and we’ll fail the whole operation. It would be safer for me to go alone, with you two on backup. Maybe you can find something here.”
“Military secrets aren’t typically kept with the stew.”
“Maybe you can find something else of use,” Geist said. Then she deeply inhaled. “But I’m safer by myself.”
Battery nodded. “I agree. Wholeheartedly.”
Vergess shot him a glare, but the younger man ignored it.
“We’re at a terrible disadvantage,” Battery continued. “If we’re caught, I doubt we’ll be able to escape. You and Vergess are tough, but I’ve already counted twenty Abomination Soldiers, and that’s not including the other sorcerers here. Vergess was right about one thing—he’s not the only one with runia sorcery—and you won’t be the only one here with specter sorcery, either.”
Catching her breath, Geist turned to face him. “Who are you worried about?”
“House Cavell, of course. They’re bound to be here. We need the magi-tech information before any of them can find us. Please, go scout ahead. Vergess and I can stick to the shadows.”
“Good. Just stay safe until I can find something.”
She nodded and left the pair in the hallway, avoiding Vergess’s gaze. Disapproval was stitched into his features, but there wasn’t time to argue the point now.
Too many people were nearby to use her sorcery right away. Instead, Geist walked to the nearest washroom and locked the door. Staring into the mirror mounted on the wall, Geist watched her body shimmer and fade until she was completely invisible.
Once ready, she left the room without opening the door. The compound didn’t feel so intimidating when no one knew she was there. Still, her invisibility didn’t mask the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floors, nor did it protect her from the enemy sorcerers with Blick’s golden searchlight eyes.
She maintained a normal walking pace as she slipped through the OHL, glancing down each corridor and taking note of the occupants. Then she inspected the rooms. Bedroom after bedroom, study after study.
Geist took special note of any door with soldiers posted outside of it. They wouldn’t post guards outside a broom closet, after all.
Much to her curiosity, the west wing of the manor had been cordoned off, and only sorcerers were allowed in. She followed a group of Abomination Soldiers inside, making sure to keep her distance. They marched with a spring in their step and spoke with energy.
Something important was about to happen.
That’s why Leopold is here. There must be a meeting before the actual social gathering. But what are they going to discuss?
Heavy black curtains covered every window in the west wing. Electric lights lit the way, and Geist couldn’t help but feel as though she was walking into a dungeon. The crimson rugs, black statues, and dark oil paintings only added to the gloomy atmosphere. And the wait staff had been replaced with buffet tables and an open bar.
There wasn’t a single non-sorcerer anywhere in sight.
“Did you see the reports?”
Geist turned to face two Abomination Soldiers standing near a tall wine rack. They smirked and swirled their glasses, careful not to spill on their dress uniforms.
“What reports?” the other asked, his German laced with the Austrian dialect.
“The Ethereal Squadron has been steadily increasing their numbers.”
“Ah, I saw.”
“We might get what we were promised after all.” The man took a sip from his glass, his expression almost giddy.
The other chortled. “It’ll change the game forever. I’m hoping sorcerers from their most powerful houses come out to face us first.”
Geist listened, but their conversation left her baffled. Why would they want more sorcerers against them? What could they possibly hope to gain?
The men with glowing golden eyes walked through the open dining hall. Their gazes swept over the participants and Geist ducked behind a large banquet table. Fortunately, they couldn’t seem to see through solid objects. She crept around the room, keeping quiet and out of sight.
The next room over, the west win
g conference hall, had an entire audience worth of sorcerers. Geist stutter-stepped to a halt: they numbered close to two hundred strong. Mostly civilians, yes, but the number was still staggering. She rarely had seen so many in one place at one time.
Many of the men in attendance wore formal military garb, complete with medals, shoulder capes, and tassels. Civilian women wore long flowing sleeveless gowns and gloves past the elbow. The shine of polished boots and the glitter of high heels reflected the giant electric chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Soft classical music played from a Victrola in the corner of the room.
But Geist’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment she saw them: Dietrich and her father walked by, heading straight back for the main table.
Father.
There was no mistaking it. First Lieutenant Markus Cavell, stitched in golden thread above his breast pocket.
Perhaps it was her nerves—but her father seemed taller than she remembered, more imposing. Like Vergess, he was an apex sorcerer, and it showed in his every movement. He strode through the room without acknowledging anyone else, barely taking heed of his son, who trailed behind him.
Dietrich said something to their father, and Geist broke away from the wall to follow them.
“Shouldn’t we be out looking for them?” Dietrich asked, his cowed tone and slumped shoulders the exact opposites of their father’s.
“We have specialists for that,” Markus said, irritation and boredom in his tone. “Besides, you had your chance and you fled. Best not embarrass me a second time.”
“Forgive me,” Dietrich muttered. “What if they’ve come here?”
“Then it won’t be long until we have them.”
Geist’s heart beat against her ribs. Dammit. I never should’ve allowed Dietrich to escape. He reported our presence in Liège! Now enemy sorcerers are searching for us. I need to inform the others as soon possible.
She took a step back and a single wooden floorboard creaked beneath her weight. Markus stopped and turned, his gaze instantly falling to her location. Geist froze, her breath held hot in her chest, but her father’s eyes darted around without seeing.
“Is something wrong?” Dietrich asked.
The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun) Page 29
