by Alana Melos
“You’re German, then?” I asked, phrasing it as carefully as I could.
“Aren’t we all?” the blond man replied. “But no, I’m from the Americas, originally. Good catch.”
I shrugged it off as I studied him. He wasn’t as fit as the Harry I knew. Instead of having the nanotech to keep him at top shape, this one had nothing and had developed a paunch over time. His skin looked paler too, likely due to his desk job. Maybe he’d been an information specialist in Prime too, before the nanotech. He was a fixer, after all. It wasn’t a far step between the professions.
“We’re looking for the location of Colonel Richter, of the occult military,” I told him, not beating around the bush. “I’m certain he’s not in Berlin, but I also think he’s not far, probably not out of Germany. He would have recently returned from some mission, a few days ago.”
He whistled through his teeth. “The occult military? That’s… that’s….” He stopped and looked at Huraiva as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, which he likely did need in this dimension. “That’s very interesting.”
“We’re not here to be interesting,” I snapped. “Can you get us the information or not?”
“Normally, I would simply state a price then give you what you wanted, or find it if I didn’t have it on hand,” Harry explained. “But the occult is a sore subject now.”
Huraiva and I exchanged a look. “Why is that?” she asked, her voice soft, but carrying in the dingy apartment.
“Because there really is no occult military any more,” he said. “Most of them are wanted outlaws, or dead. Their colonel, Nosferatu, has fled, gone into hiding.”
“But there’s still magicians who work for them,” I pointed out.
“Not so much under a single division,” he replied. “It never has been this way, so far as I know. A few here and there, sure, but most go where their talents take them, which could be any division.” He crossed his arms and studied us both. “Now you are going to tell me why you’re asking about this, because you are definitely not from the Reich… unless you don’t read newspapers. Or things online. Or watch television. Or get any information at all.”
I pursed my lips, considering my options. Honesty was usually best, but how much to say? “We’re looking for him because he’s taken a friend of ours,” I explained. “We’re going to get her back.”
His eyes continued to pierce me, searching for any trace of falsehood. When he found none, the hacker shrugged. “Good enough reason, but suicidal,” he said. “I’ve heard stories. Not all of them can be true... but there’s a lot of stories.”
Grimacing at the thought of the robot zombies, I shrugged. I’d been told before I had a death wish, but so far I’d always come out on top so those stories didn’t bother me. “They’re probably true, but that’s our business. We just need to locate him.”
With a heavy sigh, he shook his head and turned to his computer. As his fingers danced over the keyboard, Huraiva nudged me with her arm. “How are we going to get back?” she asked, pitching her voice low so Harry wouldn’t overhear.
“One problem at a time,” I said, though I’d been mulling over some potential ideas.
“What if we can’t get her?” she asked as she studied me, her brown eyes skewed with worry.
“We will,” I replied, confident. Even though I’d been developing these “affections” for people around me, they didn’t impair my ability to plot and plan with cold, calculating precision. “It’ll be a hit and run. The hardest part will be finding a safe route out of wherever he is and then hiding until we got a way home.”
“How long do you think it will take?” she pressed, and in that moment, I knew she hadn’t been for doing this at all. Adira had convinced her, or perhaps overrode her. Whichever it was, I turned to the vampire’s host with a cold look.
“It’ll take as long as it takes,” I said, biting off the words. “No more questions unless you have something useful to add.”
The gentle woman took the rebuke in silence, giving me a hurt look. Oh, please. She’d run with me long enough to know I didn’t have patience to coddle someone. Before I could remark on that, Harry turned to us, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back. “I’ve found him.”
With that, I smiled. “In Berlin, I hope?” When he shook his head, I sighed. “Of course not. Too easy. Where is he?”
He gestured with a hand, “Payment first.” I gave him the agreed amount, which hadn’t been cheap for a mere location. It wasn’t like we were asking for floor plans or anything. “Nuremberg,” he supplied. “I have an exact address here.”
I wrinkled up my nose and frowned. “Knowing Richter, it’s going to be some place old and fancy. Palace of Justice?”
Harry blinked at that, shaking his head. “It has not been called that in… decades. But no, the castle.” He pointed to the screen where he had helpfully brought up pictures of the location. “It’s been in the hands of the Reich for a long time, shut down to everyone to preserve the historical site. They use it as a stopping point to resupply. Convoys often go through there.”
The picture he pointed at didn’t look much like a castle that I’d imagined, but rather was spread out over a flat hilltop, positioned where it could see much of the city. It wasn’t a four pointed castle like in all the books I’d seen, and only had one tower with no real walls. There were a few, but nothing which would hamper even a non-powered person, much less two people who possessed the ability to fly.
“Could you bring up a train schedule, if there’s one that runs between there and Berlin?” I asked.
He tapped a few keys and brought it up. “There.”
I studied it, then shook my head. “Not passenger trains, cargo or industrial trains,” I corrected.
A few more taps, and he gestured. “There you go.”
That was more like it. I memorized the schedule for the next couple days, then nodded. We’d crossed over a supply depot not too far from here. Under the cover of night, it should be simple to catch a ride, tomorrow if we couldn’t tonight. The distance wasn’t that far, so we’d be there in a few hours, barring unforeseen circumstances. Enough time to do a quick scout and hash out a plan of attack.
“Thank you,” I said, and he smiled at me, pleased he’d done a good job. Or that’s what I imagined anyway. Maybe it was just because we were a pair of pretty rebels and he’d helped. That was the same smile Prime’s Harry had used and I grimaced, bile and hate boiling in my stomach. The real Harry was beyond my reach, but this one was here. Before I could second guess myself, I lashed out with my teke and popped his head off, decapitating him in a single stroke. Huraiva gasped, struck dumb by the suddenness of the action. She stared as the headless body crashed to the floor and the pool of blood spread from the stump. The vampire’s host turned to me, her brown eyes wide with confusion and fear.
“Why?” she asked, her voice shocked in that quiet traumatic way people had when they struggled to understand what they’d just witnessed. “He helped us.”
I took back my money and stuffed it away as I started unplugging his computers and trashing them. “If by some coincidence he was raided, or we were followed, we don’t want anyone to know where we were going. Besides, he could have ratted us out.” Even as I said the words--true though they were--I knew I lied. I did it because I wanted to, and it fed my hatred for the real Harry back on Prime. That one wasn’t going to get a quick, clean death.
“You don’t…” She stopped and ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair. “You don’t kill your friends, your allies.”
I only spared her a glance. “He wasn’t an ally, he was a tool.” Just like the real Harry. “If the Reich catches wind of us, of you in particular, we’re doomed. This whole thing is doomed. With just two of us, and me without my telepathy for any early warnings, we’ll get captured. Interrogated. Imprisoned. Killed. Is that what you want instead?” She shook her head, voice stolen by my words. “Neither do I. It’s better safe th
an sorry.”
With some great luck, I found a nice big magnet amongst his junk and used that to wipe the hard drives. Odds are he had it around for that very purpose in case he had to ditch. After that, I trashed the computers, compacting them into the smallest cubes I could and scattering them around his junk. If he really was a good guy and working with any kind of resistance, I didn’t want them exposed by me killing him, so I tried to be extra sure to get everything. Huraiva watched me with her big cow eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin line with displeasure. Oh well, I wasn’t here to please anyone. I was here to get what was mine.
As I worked, I ransacked his apartment. I ate a cold dinner and took some dry crackers and bottled water for a later meal. I found some more money hidden away in the kitchen cupboards, but not as much as I’d hoped. He must have had a stash somewhere else, but I didn’t run across it and we didn’t have time to do a thorough search. Huraiva kept to herself, her arms crossed in a defensive posture as she watched me toss his place. I gritted my teeth and ignored her until it was time to move.
When we left, we didn’t see any eyes on us. Nor did we see any Reich agents or soldiers, not this far down in the “slums” of Berlin. They really weren’t slums, but it was a poorer neighborhood. This place was too clean by half. I’d be happy when we rescued Rebekah and got the hell out of Dodge. Even though my confidence buoyed my knowledge we’d free the Siren, it was the return to Prime I worried about. I still had no way, other than breaking into a place which held an interdimensional portal. Last time, I’d had an army and we’d barely gotten away.
One problem at a time. We walked back to the tunnel which had given us access to the city, and exited that way so as to avoid notice. Once outside, we angled towards the railroad tracks. There was a train due to leave Berlin in an hour or so, and we made good time towards a suitable jumping on point. After that, we waited, then hitched a ride.
Unlike the old movies, there wasn’t a box car for us to jump onto. This train was made up of tankers. We situated ourselves between two of them and sat on the small platform by the hitch. There wasn’t any protection from the wind, save for against our backs, so we huddled there as we tried to stay warm. When it grew too overbearing, I put up a telekinetic shield over us. Once warmed, I’d drop it. I didn’t want to waste energy if I didn’t have to. Halfway there, give or take, we ate a cold, dry dinner and followed it up with the bottled water.
I know, I know. Super exciting, huh? When people wrote books or made movies… when they told a story about what happened, they leave out all the boring details, all the mundane happenings. I’m not really any different. How often do you hear me saying I had to use the bathroom? Here, I just want to make sure you understand as you read this that it wasn’t pleasant. It was dark and cold, even though the months had crested into spring. We didn’t talk. We leaned against each other, shivering. All the while, I fumed, angry at myself. Why didn’t we just go back to Prime? If I had been thinking, I could have called Alistair. He knew this sort of magic, and Rebekah was his girlfriend. He would have done what I wanted him to, and we would have a way home. Instead, I had plunged ahead without thinking. Or rather, I thought about it then did the opposite. I chose the name “Capricious Whim” to throw enemies off, to make them think I wasn’t cold and logical, that I was chaotic and unpredictable. I acted that way to keep up appearances, but that was for show. My work? The serious things? I was strictly a ‘let’s make the smart move and think this out’ sort of woman.
I hadn’t here. I’d like to say some bullshit like “my anger kept me warm” but it didn’t. The colder I got, the angrier I got. These changes I’d been experiencing in the last few months had to have been the cause. These new emotions--as well as my ill-preparedness or ill-equipped...ness--were causing me to follow these flights of fancy and arrogance. I knew I was good. I had a right to be arrogant in that regard. But was I sneaking-in-and-out-of-a-magic-Nazi-fortress-infested-with-robo-zombies-and-cyber-vamps-like-the-wind good?
At the thought of that I groaned, which caused Huraiva to stir and give me a strange look. I shook my head and gave her a tight lipped smile. It was too late. The doubt I’d been feeling birthed fear, and I ran it over and over again in my mind: exactly how was I going to do this?
Chapter Eleven
A few hours later, we crouched outside the castle on an overlooking hill. While I would love to say we simply busted in there, rescued the Siren and flew out, at a glance I knew it would take more than a simple smash and grab. We didn’t know exactly where she was held for starters. The more we watched, the more activity we saw, even at night--though to be fair, it was nearing dawn so the activity could have been the early shift arriving for work in the mad magic laboratory. As light grew, I pointed out security cameras, floodlights, and other modern devices which were light motion detectors. At the top in strategic points stood autofire turrets. I didn’t think they were fifty cal, but anything was possible. That was just the stuff I could see. It didn’t include all of the potentially nasty hidden traps as well as any magical what’s-its.
“I don’t think it’s possible,” Huraiva said, keeping her voice pitched low. “Adira expresses her doubts as well.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” I muttered. “We’re here. We might as well give it a shot.”
“Now?” she asked, her voice increasing in pitch in mid-syllable out of shock.
“Tomorrow night,” I replied, giving her an irritated look. “We’ll lay low, get some rest, see what we can dig up for local info about the castle… then give it a go after nightfall.” Frowning, I crept away. She followed, keeping close on my heels. “We’ll find a place to crash for the morning and part of the afternoon. Someplace close. If Richter didn’t have guards and dogs and undead ghoulies out here looking for us by now for being this close, he doesn’t know we’re here.”
“That doesn’t mean he or the Reich won’t find us,” Huraiva pointed out.
“That’s why I want to move fast,” I replied. “The faster we strike, the less chance of being caught. But we both need time to rest, and food, and what planning we can accomplish.”
The castle was inside the city limits, almost damn near the center from what I could see without a map. It was perched on a hill with a sharp decline on one side. Even though it appeared to be Richter’s temporary headquarters--hell, it was his permanent lair for all I knew--it was surrounded by housing and shops. Some of them were touristy in nature, but I rather doubted they gave tours of the castle. If they did, no one knew what was going on inside of it. Others were the sort you’d expect anywhere: grocery store, clothing, computers, convenience, so on and so forth. Most of the housing appeared to be apartment buildings. The first small house we ran across, I approached. Light broke over the horizon. People stirred, going about their daily business. We didn’t look that out of place, but it would be best to get off the streets before too many folks saw us.
“Stay to the side,” I whispered to Huraiva as I walked up the drive, scanning the area to see if anyone paid us any undue attention.
She nodded, and I walked up to the door boldly, knocking as if I belonged there. A middle-aged woman opened it and peered at me through squinted eyes, as if she were trying to remember or recognize me.
“Pardon me,” I said. “I know I am probably interrupting you getting your children ready for school….” I let it trail there, figuring she’d pick it up where I left off. Most people did.
“No,” she said, her brow crinkling as she frowned. “Who are you?”
“I am here to speak to your husband, about his work,” I replied, flashing her my most benign smile. I’m sure my hair looked wild since it had been windblown on the freezing train trip down here, but it was a brisk, windy day so it wasn’t too suspicious.
“Ah, he has already left. You can reach him at--”
As soon as I knew she was alone, I unsheathed my o-wakizashi and stabbed her through the throat in a quick motion, cutting off her air and--more im
portantly--her speech. I drove her backwards into the house, following the soon-to-be-dead woman. Huraiva stepped up behind me and closed the door. When I withdrew my blade, blood spurted. Having expected that, I shielded myself from the spatter. The blood drops rained on the floor in a stunted pattern, and again when I slashed her throat lengthwise and left her to bleed out on the hardwood. Moving fast, I searched the house in case she had any visitors in the house. Just like I surmised, she was alone. Assuming her husband left just a few minutes ago, we’d have about seven hours or so to eat, rest, and do anything else we wanted until we would have to deal with him.
“Grab her,” I said, returning to the foyer. The house was small, but it still had an entryway, a bedroom, a kitchen with a pantry, a living room, a bathroom, and a den. Huraiva grabbed the woman’s hands, and rolled her onto a carpet. She drug both into the kitchen while I gathered as much of the blood as I could telekinetically and deposited it in the toilet, flushing it away. When she returned and asked what to do with the body, I shrugged. “Leave her there. We don’t want her husband freaking out the instant he steps in his house.”
“Such a shame,” she sighed as she looked at the remnants of the blood stain.
“Who cares?” I said, though a twinge of guilt plagued me around the edges of my mind. I pushed it away. “See if you can find a mop or something. I’ll look for another carpet or rug to throw over it.”
I came back with a throw rug before she returned with a handful of towels. As I laid the rug over the spot on the ground, she wiped the surrounding walls of any major blood stains. It’d work for now.
“Food, shower, and rest,” I said. “But we’ll have to make sure we’re up by the time he comes home so we can deal with him.”
“We shouldn’t kill him, if we can help it,” she said. “He’s innocent.”
I gave her a flat look. “How many people did you and Adira kill for the Reich?”
She had the good grace to flush at my question, but didn’t back down. Though I’d encouraged Huraiva to stand up for herself in the past, I wasn’t sure I liked the result now. “That was under orders,” she said. “I would prefer not to.”
