The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 1: American Nightmares (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #1)

by Michael Panush

  “It wouldn’t be enough,” Dr. Stein replied. “The Draugr aren’t strong enough and they can’t be controlled. The Nazis would tear them to pieces and then go after me. Then there would be no keeping you or Weatherby safe from Von Koch.”

  Weatherby looked into the sky, listening dimly to his parents’ conversation. He could sense their desperation and fear, and he didn’t like it. He loved and trusted his parents, and it was something awful to hear them being frightened and unsure. He looked up and spotted a large plane, cameo green with white stripes on the wings, flying in a swift line over the distant woods.

  “Mother! Father! Look at that!” Weatherby knew the Nazi planes by sight, and that wasn’t one of them. His parents followed his finger.

  Hannah recognized it first. “Good Lord,” she said. “That’s an American plane. They drop paratroopers from there, a whole squad of them.” She turned to her husband. “Wolfgang, they may be coming to rescue us! Perhaps they know about the German occult super-soldier programs, and are moving to shut them down! They can rescue us!” She was giddy, and bent down to embrace Weatherby, sweeping him up in her joy.

  “We can’t afford to jump to conclusions,” Wolfgang said quietly. “Please, Hannah. We have to think, and save ourselves. Perhaps we can run to them, or bring them here. I can unleash the experiments to provide a distraction. The Nazis may bring them under control eventually, but it’s worth the risk. For you and Weatherby, it’s worth the risk.” He looked back at his family. “Americans,” he whispered. “I knew some of them in university. Brash fellows, assured of their superiority and their place in the world. It will be strange, making such a place our home.”

  Weatherby listened, feeling his heart beat with excitement at the possibility of freedom. “But Selena will be there,” he said. “So we’ll all be together. It will be not that bad, father. We’ll be together.”

  Wolfgang Stein smiled at his son. “Of course,” he said. “We’ll be together.” He knelt down before his son, his wife behind him. “Weatherby, I think your mother and I are agreed in doing this. But it will be dangerous, and there is a very real possibility that we will not make it.”

  “But, you can’t—” Weatherby started, but then fell silent. He knew this was his father’s time to talk and he didn’t want to interrupt.

  “We’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe,” Dr. Stein continued. “But things could go badly. And your mother and I might not make it through. So I want to tell you this now.” He put a hand on Weatherby’s shoulder, his eyes wide. “You are a very good boy, my little one. You are my pride and joy and the glory of my life. You are smarter than I ever was, and your knowledge is truly boundless. You must always remember that there is good in the world, and it is the duty of those possessing true knowledge to aid that good, and to fight the evil that attempts to drag it down. To protect the weak, and respect the rights of all people, and never let those who trust you down.”

  He paused and bit his lip. “Perhaps…perhaps I have allowed myself to fall to the evils of the world. But you must not. You must stay strong, and remember that you can do great things, and you must never forget that when future generations of the Stein Family look back on your legacy, they should feel their hearts sing with pride. So be kind, and protect your sister, and try to make sure that the kind of cruelty which has brought us down can never rise again.”

  Solemnly, Weatherby nodded. “Yes, father,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” Dr. Stein blinked the tears from his eyes and hugged his boy. He stood up, looking at his wife. “Hannah, I’m going back to the lab, to do more work. When night falls, that’s when I’ll let the Draugr out of their cages. Then I’ll meet up with you and Weatherby and we’ll all head for the woods. Stay with him, please.”

  She kissed him, and Weatherby felt like they were saying goodbye. “Of course, my dear,” Hannah said. “Please, be careful. Don’t let us lose you.”

  “I’ll try,” Dr. Stein said, finally pulling away. He smiled sadly at his family, and then turned and walked back down the winding stone pathway to his castle, with his head bowed.

  Weatherby turned to his mother. “So, what should we do now?”

  “Let’s go to your room and get you some rest,” Hannah suggested. “We’ll wait for nightfall there.”

  They returned to Weatherby’s room, and true to her word, Hannah Stein didn’t leave her son. She brought him a bowl of tomato soup from the kitchens, and Weatherby enjoyed the warmth of it, feeling some of his strength come back. She read to him from one of the thick tomes on his nightstand, a heavy work of alchemy by John Dee. Weatherby enjoyed learning about the magical languages, spell components and artifacts. It was its own fantastic science, and one that he could share with his father.

  But it was difficult for either of them to concentrate. Hannah’s eyes kept on fluttering to the round window, seeing if the sun had begun its slow descent. Weatherby looked there too, feeling a little of his strength return as the right time drew closer and closer. Weatherby felt fear boiling up inside of him, burning through his veins. But he had only to look at his mother’s kind face, or think of his father, and he forgot his fear. They would keep him safe, and he trusted them.

  Before Weatherby knew it, the sun had set. Darkness fell over Castle Stein, seeping into the cracks and corner of the gargoyles perched along the ancient stone walls, and going under the battlements and the around the towers. Hannah stood up and closed the book. “Right,” she said gravely. “It’s time. Stay close to me, Weatherby. Stay very close and everything will be absolutely fine.”

  “I know, mother,” Weatherby said.

  She moved to the door, but it opened before she could reach it. Colonel Vessler stood there, grinning under his black fedora. He held a cane under his arm, ivory white in contrast with his black trench coat. “Hannah Stein,” he said. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “N-no.” Hannah stepped back, standing protectively in front of her son. Weatherby sat up in his bed. He looked at Colonel Vessler, and saw a predator’s smile. He wasn’t interested in Weatherby, but in the boy’s mother. “No, sir. Where would we go?”

  “Ah, that is truly a complex question, Frau Stein,” Vessler replied. “You see, the situation for our little project has just taken a remarkable downturn.” He rested one hand on his cane, and raised the other to his ear. “Listen, my dear.”

  Weatherby listened and heard thunder rumble in the distance. But it wasn’t thunder, as it was followed by a rapid blare of machine gun fire and the sudden crack of rifles. Weatherby winced and closed his eyes at the sound. The screams of men followed, and more gunfire, crackling away like distant lightning. Hannah suddenly smiled, if only for a second, and Weatherby realized why she was happy. The Americans were coming to Castle Stein.

  Vessler frowned. “Don’t be so stupid, Hannah,” he said. “Von Koch has given very specific orders. You, your husband and your son will not be allowed to fall into Allied hands. Sergeant Morgen will find you and execute you before that happens. Unless I tell him otherwise.” He suddenly reached out and touched Hannah’s hand. He pulled her away from Weatherby. The boy leapt off his bed and stood on the floor of his room, watching his mother in the arms of the Nazi. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know.”

  “No,” Hannah replied, pulling away. “I believe I do. I won’t bargain with you, Vessler. No matter what.”

  Slowly, Colonel Vessler’s smile faded. “I offer you salvation,” he said. “And you refuse me?”

  “I’d refuse you anything,” Hannah hissed. “Now kindly leave my room.”

  Vessler struck her and grabbed her throat. “Ignorant subhuman slut!” he cried, pulling her close to him. His charming demeanor vanished in an instant. He grabbed Hannah’s arm and she screamed as she tried to break free.

  Weatherby couldn’t watch his mother being tormented. He didn’t know what exactly Vessler wanted from her, but he could see she was in agony and he k
new he had to help. Despite the bruises on his face and chest, Weatherby leapt off the bed and launched himself at Vessler. “Stay away from my mother!” he cried. “Don’t hurt her!” There were tears in his eyes as he pounded his fists into Vessler’s side.

  The next thing Weatherby felt was a pounding, crackling pain in his upper chest. He was thrown back, and saw Colonel Vessler raise his cane again. Hannah screamed as he brought it down, knocking Weatherby to the floor of his room. Vessler pulled Hannah away, leaving Weatherby on the ground.

  “There now, my dear,” Colonel Vessler said, almost gently to Weatherby’s struggling mother. “Let us go somewhere more private.”

  “Weatherby!” Hannah’s cry echoed in the empty room, as Vessler slammed the door behind him. Weatherby lay on the floor, each breath causing a spasm of pure pain to burn through him. In the distance, he could hear the gunfire drawing closer, like an oncoming storm. Weatherby had never wished violence on others before, but he hoped the Americans got there soon and killed everything in a Nazi uniform.

  He didn’t know how long he lay on the polished floor of his room, looking up at his books and scattered toys, and the photographs of his ancestors, as well as his father, mother and Selena in happier times. He cried a little, but blinked his eyes and tried to stop. He had to be brave. He had to take care of things now.

  Then, Weatherby heard footsteps hurrying down the hallway. He closed his eyes, imagining it was the savage Sergeant Morgen come to finish the job, or Vessler or even General Von Koch. But the door opened, and then Weatherby felt concerned, gentle hands helping him up. He opened his eyes and saw his father’s terrified face.

  “Weatherby? It’s all right. It’s all right, my dear little one. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He picked Weatherby up, which he hadn’t done since the boy was much smaller, and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s going to be all right,” Dr. Stein said. “Now, please, if you can, where is your mother?”

  “Colonel Vessler pulled her away,” Weatherby cried. “I tried to stop him.” His voice broke. “Father, I’m sorry! I should have—”

  “No, my dear little one. We’ll get her. We’ll get her and leave this place forever.” Dr. Stein carried his son outside of his room and gently closed the door. “I let them go,” he said. “I undid all the locks, and opened the cage doors, and let a score of crazed living corpse-warriors free in my castle.” Weatherby realized his father was talking to himself, trying to account for what he had done. “But we must find your mother. Just stay with me. Try and breathe and stay with me.”

  Weatherby tried to follow his father’s commands as he was carried down the hall. After a few careful steps, Wolfgang Stein set his son down, and helped him walk. They moved carefully down the long hallway, hearing the sounds of battle echoing all around them.

  They made it to the end of the hall, and then Weatherby heard a harsh cry, a snarl in German. He turned around and saw Sergeant Morgen, standing with a pair of SS troopers, motioning for them to stop. “Father!” Weatherby cried. “We can’t listen to them! Vessler said they want to kill us!”

  Morgen was already raising his submachine gun. Dr. Stein swept up Weatherby in his arm and started running. “Kill them!” Morgen bellowed. “Don’t let the subhuman swine survive!” Weatherby heard the cocking of their rifles. Every second he expected the burning pain of a bullet to plant in his back, or his father to falter and topple over.

  But then the gunfire came, louder than Weatherby could imagine. It echoed down the ancient stone walls and made Weatherby’s ears ache, like each shot was a hammer pounding into his brain. The bullets didn’t strike him or his father. Weatherby risked a glance.

  He saw his father’s experiments, the Draugr, had reached the Nazis. They were strange creatures, pale, hairless men with skin as white as snow, wearing rumpled green surgical gowns. Lean as starved dogs, they had long claws, and howled wordlessly as they struck the Germans down, then leaned in to feast.

  “D-don’t look, little one!” Dr. Stein cried, covering Weatherby’s eyes. “Don’t look!” Weatherby did his best to obey his father.

  They ran down the stone hallway and reached the entrance, with its raised portcullis and drawbridge over a long dry moat. Outside, in the deep woods of the Black Forest, Weatherby could hear the sounds of the battle, terribly near. He looked into the woods, and saw a tremendous explosion, a mortar round maybe, blasting off among the trees, and scattering branches like they were toothpicks. His father held him close, and Weatherby felt a little better.

  Suddenly, he felt he father running madly towards the edge of the bridge. “Hannah! Hannah! Oh, thank all the angels in heaven and demons in Hell! You’re all right!” He set Weatherby down on the rough flagstones of the drawbridge and the boy turned to see his mother. He joined Dr. Stein in hurrying to her side, and she held both of them. Weatherby didn’t want to let go or turn away, like Hannah would vanish the moment he did.

  Hannah was beaten and bruised, with a black eye and a long rip along her dress. Weatherby had to ask. “Mother?” he asked. “How did you get away from Colonel Vessler? Did he…did he hurt you?”

  “I f-fought him, and he ran when he heard the firefight coming near. He’s a coward. They all are. Von Koch left first, speeding away to make sure there was no chance of him getting hurt,” Hannah explained. She looked at Dr. Stein. “Please, Wolfgang,” she said, her voice barely audible behind the gunfire and the explosions. “Let’s run away from here. We can talk about it later. But let’s just get to safety first.”

  “Of course.” Dr. Stein was already looking down the bridge. “Weatherby’s been injured, though not badly. We can still get to safety. We can still make it.”

  They hurried down the drawbridge, and then heard the low rumble of an approaching tank. Weatherby’s hopes crumbled as he saw the iron gray Panzer roll out to block their path. Its treads stirred up the gray dirt, and its main turret swiveled slowly to face the woods.

  “They don’t see us.” Dr. Stein pulled Weatherby back, ducking low behind the small stone wall bordering the drawbridge, and Hannah joined them. “It’s aiming for something else. Just stay quiet, Weatherby. Stay quiet, little one, and we’ll get through this.”

  The Panzer tank fired. The noise was deafening, and Weatherby saw the red flash of an explosion, followed by the sound of branches and trees tumbling down to the dirt. The shouts of men followed, and then there was a sound like a roaring wind, as a speeding projectile slammed into the treads of the tank. The Panzer rocked from the explosion, the turret nodding up and down.

  “Recoilless rifles,” Dr. Stein whispered. More shots crashed into the side of the tank. Weatherby couldn’t see who was firing. The shots seemed to stream in from between the trees, launching like strange birds from hidden branches. The tank crew started to panic, firing the turret’s machine gun wildly into the forest, rending apart trees and branches. The Panzer fired its main battle cannon again, with less effect.

  Finally, the hatch to the tank popped open and the crew started bailing out, followed by flickers of smoke. As soon as they emerged, a long blast of machine gun fire cut them down, and their bodies tumbled from the metal surface of the Panzer to fall in a bloody pile. Weatherby’s mother covered her son’s eyes, and he didn’t mind it. He felt sick to his stomach, wanting to curl up in darkness until the terrible world around him went away.

  But then, for just a few seconds around Castle Stein, there was silence. Weatherby heard cries in English, a language he spoke well, but it was in an accent he had only heard occasionally on the radio, or when he and his father went into town to see a rare moving picture show at the cinema. These were Americans.

  They stepped carefully out from behind trees, or pulled themselves up from the dirt, carbines and submachine guns in their hands. They were rough men, seemingly composed of the dirt and grime that covered their faces. Their olive green helmets and khaki uniforms were tattered, and a few wore cameo face paint. The American paratroopers stepped closer to
the castle, their weapons raised, ready to open fire at a moment’s notice.

  Hannah stood up and waved her hands. “Don’t shoot!” she cried. “I’m a British citizen! My husband and son are here and they are not Nazis!”

  A hushed mumble ran through the American troops. “Dr. Stein?” One of the Americans waved his hand. He was broad shouldered, a solid fellow with dark eyes hidden under the brim of his helmet. “It’s A-okay, Doc! I’m Sergeant Morton Candle. I’m with the Airborne. We’re here to rescue you and your family.” A tommy gun rested easily in his powerful hands.

  Dr. Stein came to his feet, helping Weatherby along. “Oh, thank heavens,” Stein said. “I must thank you, gentlemen. But I can’t, I just can’t find the proper words.” He and his wife reached down and took Weatherby’s hands.

  “All right, doc. Just come over here, nice and easy,” Candle said. He turned to his men, barking out orders. “Tiny, cover them with the MG! Elkins, you use that rifle to keep the Krauts pinned in the castle. Dutch, get your behind over there and help them get the kid across. Gently now, soldiers!”

  They started walking across the drawbridge. Weatherby allowed himself a little smile – and then he heard footsteps pounding behind them. He turned around and felt all the happiness from their rescue flee away.

  Sergeant Morgen was charging for them, a luger in each hand. Morgen’s uniform was in shreds, and the long claw of one of the Draugr, like a thin line of steel, projected out from his bloody eye socket. Morgen’s remaining eye was wide and bloodshot, and he snarled like a wild beast at the Steins.

  “Those were my men!” Sergeant Morgen shouted. “They were my men you fed to your monsters! I’ll kill you, doctor! I’ll rip off your brat’s head, and tear your wife in half!” His rasping German came in gasps and growls, and he leapt into the Steins, firing all the while.