She tarries just a second in front of the entrance and then proceeds to the corner of the next warehouse. Her odd troop assembled, she whispers, facing down the street. “It’s that green door. Any ideas?”
“How was Alina?” Silla asks.
“In a bad spot. She was fighting hand to hand,” Kasia answers.
“Shit,” Riger interrupts. “And this was over twenty minutes ago.”
Kasia quickly examines the warehouse’s windows. Wooden boards recently repaired, painted bars. Carefully maintained, by people with money to spend. It’s hard to find a chance opening due to negligence.
“We need to break down the front door,” she concludes.
“It’s suicide,” says Riger.
Riger questioning orders. This is new. Surely she too isn’t pleased by the pact entered into with young Hansi, which she made on the fly, without consulting them.
“Alina’s life is in danger. We either leave her to her fate or we bust in. I can’t abandon her, but you shouldn’t feel obligated.” Kasia decides to put them in a corner.
“Captain,” Riger hisses, “no one wants to leave the baby here. But we need to think of a diversion. I’ll climb on the roof. There’s often a skylight they’ve forgotten to lock. If I see an opening, I’ll whistle to you. The usual bird call.”
“Well then,” Silla interjects, “I’ll go with you. Given that more than two people can’t fit through the door at a time.”
The job on the street is certainly less risky, and if there’s anyone who can successfully carry out this raid from the roof it’s Silla with her military dexterity. However, the clever duo is kindly sticking her with the new passenger.
“Very well,” Kasia says. “Silla, take off your cape. We’ll give it to Hansi who will pretend to be a messenger, come to deliver a package. If they’ve checked up on us they won’t be expecting a man.”
“We’ll climb up there.” Riger points with her chin to a black drainage pipe, on the storehouse’s backside.
“If this gets torn,” Silla places the cape in the boy’s hands with a dark scowl, “I’ll be in your nightmares. Forever.”
“Uh,” he mumbles, but the two witches are already hurrying toward the back.
“You knock,” Kasia tells him. “Say you need to deliver a package from the airship Guglia. It’s at pier seven, I saw it this morning. Say you ran here because the captain said it was extremely urgent.”
“And if they don’t open up for me?”
“Try to convince them, tell them to at least take a look and see if it might interest them. As soon as they open the door, you must throw the cape around the jamb. It’s heavy velvet, they won’t be able to close it again right away.”
“But that blonde told me if I ruin it—” the boy begins to whine.
“You won’t ruin it. Don’t worry.” Kasia smiles, thinking of the risk the boy is actually running.
That cape was a gift from Mentif and Sirany, Silla’s two best friends, given to her at her first Sabbath. Kasia still remembers that day as if it were chiseled in stone; by then it was her fourth, but in those years long past they still had an animalistic excitement around them, an insatiable desire stretched out for an entire year, to then explode in a single night. When any of her friends entered the circle of adults, the occasion brought the festivities to a more extreme level, consuming every drop of energy in the orgy until just before sunrise, when the old witches gathered the young girls in their arms. Like Alina. If she’s still alive and they manage to save her.
“Anyway,” Kasia regains her train of thought. “Throw down the cape and then hurl yourself against the panel. I’ll be on the other side of the street next to that red bin. It will only take two steps for me to reach the spot where you’ll be. It’s important we manage to knock down the person behind it. If we’re unable to break in, our friend is already dead. And probably my two sisters coming down from the roof as well. And you,” Kasia points with her index finger beneath his dirty shirt, pinching him in the chest with her nail, “will be next. Is that clear?”
She feels the boy’s skin tremble beneath her finger, but he nods vigorously. Kasia checks the top of the drainpipe where the tail end of Riger’s long dress is disappearing behind the roofline.
“Try to strike close to the opening. You need to use the door’s leverage.”
Kasia hops from one foot to the other, as the wait seems to stretch on for an eternity, until over the shuffling of the thoroughfare she hears a familiar chirping.
“Let’s go,” she says, her hand shoving him toward the portal. She positions herself next to the bin, turning her attention to the far end of the street. She holds her hand up to her eyes, as if shielding them from the sun to look into the distance, trying to hide her face and peek through her fingers at the green door.
Hansi’s fist punches hard against the wood. On the street, the crowd continues to walk by unfazed. The boy speaks facing the entrance, but she can’t hear what’s being said. A man with a huge belly and a long black beard gets in between her and the doorway, pulling a sleigh filled with rags and boxes.
“What the… dammit,” she hisses. She moves ten feet over to try and regain visual contact. The door opens. Kasia springs forward and jumps onto the sleigh, provoking a scream from the bearded man. “Hey!”
The portal is straight in front of her, Hansi is pressing with all his weight to try and keep the panel open, which is being shoved from inside with frantic tugs. Kasia climbs the curb and leaps, pushing hard with her feet against the wood. She lands with a knee and shoulder against the portal’s hard wood. The ground pummels her ankles eliciting a scream of pain. The portal opens wide, and a man ends up in the small entryway with his legs in the air. A splattering of blood covers his visage: they managed to crack him square in the middle of his face with the door panel. Kasia shouts to her companion “Go!”
She tries to get back on her feet, but as soon as she presses her foot against the floor, a stabbing pain runs through her shin. Still on all fours, she draws her knife while Hansi rushes inside, armed only with his good intentions. The man of the ground attempts to get up, but Kasia with a savage gasp spins the blade over her head and plants it into his thigh. Now the goon screams, arching his back in pain. A splash of blood hits Kasia in the face, blinding her. She feels her hand soaked and dripping around the knife’s hilt. She gives the blade a half turn and pulls it out, severing muscles and tendons to immobilize the enemy, who’s yelling now like a beast being slaughtered. Kasia manages to clear her eyes while the injured man’s screams grow feebler. She must have cut clean through an artery because a lake of blood floods the storefront. Copious blood spouts in rhythmic pulses from the wound above his knee. She gets back on her feet, leaning against the wall. The man has a long face, with his teeth clenched in a grimace of pain. His skin is waxy and he no longer seems to be in a position to cause harm.
Kasia tries to rest her aching ankle on the floor. It seems to hold her weight, maybe it’s just sprained. Agitated noises come from further inside. She hears Riger’s voice shout and the crash of some object against the bones of an unlucky individual. She leans against the door, shutting out the small crowd of gathering onlookers. Groping around, she finds the bolt and rolls it through all the slots with a dry crack. The magistrate’s goons will be on the scene in a few minutes, better to keep indiscreet eyes away.
The noises in the other room cease.
“Captain?” Riger calls to her, her voice raspy.
“I’m here,” she stays against the wall, the back of her left foot hurts every time it presses against the floor. Limping and gritting her teeth, she propels herself into the rear room.
It’s a sparse space; light filters in through the skylight, through glass stained with red mud. The wood floor, worn with years of use, is almost completely bare, save for some large wooden crates piled against the left wall. A Formica table, supported by four twisted legs, constitutes the room’s only furnishing. A broken chair and o
ne with its seat split down the middle mark the edge of tableaux. A man lies on the ground, with a long gash in his head. He looks like the plump one she saw during the incantation. Silla, Riger and Hansi look at her, dumbstruck.
“There’s no one here, Captain,” Silla says, her black-bladed knife still drawn.
Two muffled blows resound against the wood of the front door, angry shouts coming from the other side.
“And yet this is the place,” Kasia murmurs, testing her weight on her injured leg.
Together with the clamor coming from outside she seems to hear another pounding, infinitely softer, but much closer.
“Maybe—” Riger starts.
“Quiet, everyone!” Kasia exclaims. With difficulty, the crosses the short distance to the crates. The pounding seems even more pronounced.
“She’s inside one of these. Open them, carefully,” says Kasia.
Silla and Riger press their ears against various crates until they identify which one the banging is coming from. The noise beating against the front entrance has stopped. And that can’t be a good sign.
Silla snaps out the nails with her blade and, together with Riger, moves aside the long wooden cover. Inside the box, Alina is tied up with a thick white rope, which squeezes her body and pulls her hands behind her back. Her jaw is fully open and her mouth filled with a rolled up scarf, held tight by another coil of the rope, so taught it makes her cheeks bleed. Her eyes are wide with terror.
“Shh, little one,” Silla whispers. “It’s all over. Stay still and I’ll free you.”
“Police!” they shout from outside. “Open up!”
“We need to hurry. How do we get out of here?” Kasia asks.
“All the warehouses have a back door. But it’s a big risk; I wouldn’t be surprised if someone were waiting for us there,” Riger offers.
“Either that or the roof,” adds Silla, while she patiently cuts the ropes restraining the young witch.
“You leave that way. Alina, Hansi and I through the back. At least this way if they catch us we won’t all be together. What’s more, I injured my ankle; I can’t climb up.”
“Captain, if we all go together, perhaps…” Riger scratches her cheek.
“No. We’ll see each other back on the ship; if the police nab us go back to the airship and raise anchor. If our vessel is flying over the city we’ll have a little power to negotiate. But if we’re all on the ground, we’re worthless. Let’s go, go, go!”
“Oh god.” The sob comes from Alina who’s finally free from her gag.
“My little girl, can you walk?” Kasia asks.
“I’ll walk,” she says, with a wisp of a voice.
“Come here, Hansi. Closer, for hell’s sake! Hold on to me.”
The young man wraps an arm around her waist and Kasia attaches the other one to her neck.
“There. We need to walk like this—like two lovers. I’m a bit old for you, but you’ll like it—you’ll see,” Kasia gives him a mirthless wink.
A muffled thud bangs against the door. They’re using some kind of battering ram.
“Alina? Shall we go?”
The young woman sits up in the box, massaging her wrists. “Let’s get out of here, please,” she says.
Kasia squeezes her hand.
“So we’ll see each other at the docks, Captain?” asks Silla, returning from the small antechamber with a healthy dose of reproach in her eyes and her old black cape in her hands. Riger is already halfway up the support post, huffing and grunting with each hand’s length she manages to gain up its notches.
“Right,” answers Kasia. “Wake up, little one. We can lick our wounds later, for the time being we still need to fight.” She sees the pain in Alina’s eyes, but she can’t afford to hesitate now. They’re all in danger of ending up in prison, or worse, on the stake. Kasia leaning heavily on young Hansi, they head toward the back. Behind the mountain of crates lies a narrow room. Kasia waves around the lantern she took off the ground, but there’s no trace of an exit. The blows against the door grow ever heavier until she hears the sinister creak of wood coming off its hinges.
“Auntie, here,” Alina grabs a ring-shaped handle on the floor.
“You, help her,” Kasia orders, while, with a final crack, the door leading on to the street opens with a crash.
“It’s not a good idea,” Hansi answers her back. “There are tunnels under the warehouses. And something’s down there.”
“Move it!” she urges him.
Under the trapdoor, a dark ladder descends underground. Kasia hands the lamp to Alina, “Lead the way. You, help me climb down.”
They can already hear the footsteps and shouts of the soldiers in the main room when Kasia delicately closes the trapdoor above her.
The wooden rungs creak beneath their boots, but the trapdoor is made of thick wood and muffles the sound. Nevertheless, within a few minutes their pursuers will start to comb the warehouse and there’s no way they’ll miss the iron ring in the floor.
The lamp Alina carries lights a subterranean tunnel dug into the moist earth and just wide enough for a person.
Kasia and Hansi stay a few steps behind her, limping after the light.
“It isn’t safe down here,” Hansi whispers. “There’s something—”
“Quiet,” answers Kasia. Further ahead the tunnel forks in two.
“Auntie.” They can make out Alina’s eyes, illuminated by a circle of light, agape with shock. A breath extinguishes the lantern and Kasia finds herself in total darkness.
“Alina!” Her voice is lost in a thousand underground echoes. But no one answers. She gropes her way forward, holding on to Hansi’s shoulder. Her heart is throbbing so hard in her chest her rib cage feels like it’s going to explode with each beat.
“I hate the dark,” she hisses. “Alina!”
“Silence!” a voice shrieks, coming from her right. With a metallic echo—unnatural. A hybrid’s voice.
A hand grabs the hem of her cape. The shrill voice says, “This way.”
Kasia decides to follow its pull. Without any light, it’s impossible to orient herself down here.
They continue for several yards, she turns right, lowers her head, hits her thigh against the wall, turns left. After a few minutes it seems she’s entered a more spacious environment where their footsteps echo against the ceiling.
“Oh, look who it is,” another voice, female, a few feet to her right.
“Auntie!”
“Alina, I’m here.”
Kasia tries stretching out her arm but she finds only empty space. She clings to Hansi, the one sure sign she’s still in the real world and hasn’t fallen into a hell devoid of radiance.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” says the female voice.
“Dear ladies,” Kasia tries, “thank you for having brought us here. However could you perhaps show us the way to the docks? And perhaps light a lamp so we might see each other face to face?”
“Oh, but I see your face perfectly. You look quiet frightened, Englishwoman,” says the second voice, ending on a note of contempt.
“Who knows why everyone is so afraid of us, when they arrive here, heeheehee,” the other laughs.
A tap on Kasia’s hand. She tries to pull back, but she realizes it’s Alina. She grabs her and brings her in closer; the girl presses herself against her.
“What do you want from us?” Kasia asks. Everyone wants something in this world. Even the hybrids.
“You were squawking like geese in those corridors. And trailing behind you, you have company we find… quite… ah, disagreeable. Heeheeheehee,” answers the shrieking voiced woman.
“Yes,” the other continues. “If we left you wandering around back there we ran the risk you’d draw too much attention. By now the goons have found the trapdoor and are down here. I watched them from a manhole while they were trying to knock down the door of the Pendulum warehouse.”
“One learns so much watching the world from below!” her
companion interrupts.
“So much, sister. For example, I saw blood dripping down from the grate in the storehouse entryway. A lot of blood.”
“Who could have committed such a ruthless crime?” the strident voice asks, full of sarcasm.
Kasia moves her hand toward the hilt of her knife. A merchant can feel when things are going south.
“Ladies, we are but traders. We needed to defend ourselves from an attack in there. We merely wish to make it to the docks and leave here. We can reach an agreement, if there’s anything you wish for, in exchange for our freedom.”
“The boy,” says the shrill voice and Kasia feels Hansi pulling in closer and letting out a gasp.
“That boy isn’t English, waar jongen?”
Hansi answers with a muffled voice, “Nee, mevrouw.”
“Then tell us, young man. What are you doing in the company of these Englishwomen?”
“They’re going to give me passage on their airship.”
No, Kasia thinks, but it’s too late now.
“An airship? So then you are rich—rich merchants.”
“Not all that rich, my lady,” Kasia adds hurriedly. “In truth, we’re swimming in debt. However, since we are in something of a hurry, we could pay you well, if you let us go.”
“Oh yes, money. But we prefer other forms of liquidity.” The voice has moved behind her now.
“Yes,” says the other. “Some creatures slither here below, but they taste terrible.”
“We’ll send you to the aircraft, young man, but leave the two merchants here,” the shriller voice finishes behind Kasia.
Alina’s hand is noticeably warmer. It burns to the point where Kasia needs to let go of it. She tries to do it nonchalantly; the girl is attempting a spontaneous combustion spell. Very draining, but she’s always been extremely gifted. Only what does she want to set on fire?”
Regardless, Kasia needs to buy her time and stay ready. She brings her free hand to her belt close to the knife’s hilt. “We’re in a great hurry, we can stop no longer. Let us go or you’ll regret it.”
“You dare threaten us, merchant? Perhaps then it’d be better to deliver a clearer message to your airship.”
The Codex of the Witch: Fantasy Novel Page 4
