by G S Eli
“It’s not?” Mila asked.
“No, Mila. You are Garade. Your mother and father were Garade. That is why he was hunted and she was in hiding with us. That is why she could only be married to him. You are the last of your kind, Mila—the last of the Magi.”
This news left Mila stunned. Before he could organize his thoughts or ask any questions, they heard the sound of glass shattering. At that same moment, there was a pounding sound at the back door, which opened into the kitchen.
Sabina and Mila were startled at first, but they soon sprang into action, knowing someone was trying to break in. Mila took a knife off the counter and ran to the door that was just about to give way. He braced his shoulder against it, desperately trying to hold it in place. He heard a strange male voice shouting from the living room. The man must have come in through the shattered window. “Don’t move! Hands on your head!” he ordered.
“Lemme go! Get the hell off me!” Jack cried from the other room.
The latch gave way and the door swung open, knocking Mila backward. A moment later, the barrel of a rifle peeked inside. Mila rushed forward again, slamming the door back shut and pinning the rifle against the wall. Holding the door again, Mila turned to see the man advancing from the front through the living room. He was dressed in black assault gear and wore a ski mask. He moved toward Mila’s terrified great-aunt, who was now curled up in the corner covering her head in fear. He aimed his pistol at her and yelled, “Let me see those hands!”
There was another hard blow to the door. The entire flimsy thing came off its hinges. Mila was knocked to the ground, and the door landed on top of him. The intruder planted a foot on the door, trapping him underneath. Sharp pains shot through Mila’s injured ribs as he lay sprawled out on the hard tile floor with the door pressed against his chest. Not knowing what else to do, Mila flailed his arm, uselessly waving the kitchen knife. The other intruder, realizing Sabina was no threat, moved forward and planted a foot on Mila’s arm, foiling his attempts to hack at their feet.
Now trapped with two guns trained on him, Mila was certain this was the end. Then one of the attackers pulled off their ski mask.
“Deborah?” Mila said.
“Mila?” Deborah replied.
Not taking any chances, she took the kitchen knife and tossed it out the back door. Then she removed her foot from the door and pulled it off of Mila. The other man helped the boy to his feet. The intruder removed his mask, revealing a fit middle-aged man with a goatee.
“I’ve got him,” Deborah said to the man.
Mila had seen Deborah in action. He knew better than to make a move now. Besides, he could sense she had no malicious intent.
Everyone turned to see Sabina grab a rolling pin off the counter and hold it over her head, ready to swing it. Deborah and her friend tried not to laugh.
“It’s OK, bibío; it’s a misunderstanding,” Mila said.
Sabina dropped the rolling pin, her arms shaking. “You’re damn right it’s a misunderstanding!” Sabina shouted. “Look at my house!”
“Sorry about the shock and awe, we couldn’t take any risks, not with the TNC out looking for you,” Deborah said.
The man stepped into the living room. He came back a moment later, leading a drowsy Jack along with him. His hands were bound behind his back by zip ties, but he was otherwise unharmed.
Sabina’s hands were still shaking as her adrenaline wore off. Mila slowly walked over to his great-aunt and comforted her, letting her know everything was all right. She caught her breath as Deborah cut the riot cuffs from Jack’s hands. In moments, Sabina was as calm as she could be, albeit annoyed. She raised a scolding finger to Deborah and her companion, saying,
“You owe me a new front window and a new kitchen door.”
“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked the man as he rubbed his wrists.
“This is Morton,” Deborah said. “He’s a friend.”
Jack looked Morton up and down for a second. “Is…is Morton…an old co-worker?” he asked delicately.
Deborah glared at Jack.
“Shhh…shut up!” Mila said through his teeth.
“How’d you find us?” Jack asked, ignoring Mila.
“The incident on the train caused a lot of radio chatter, and you don’t have to have high-level security clearance to find the only Gypsy in Paderborn…” Deborah said. “Now, where’s Casey?”
“What are you talking about? She’s sleeping in Sabina’s room,” Mila said.
Morton shook his head. “There was no one in the bedroom.”
Deborah shot Jack a questioning look.
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Mila and I were in the living room.”
Deborah did a quick re-check of the bedroom and found it empty. Meanwhile, Mila peered into the living room. “Wolfy’s gone, too,” he said.
“Wolfy?” Deborah asked.
“The dog,” Mila explained. “It’s a long story.”
Mila could tell that Jack was getting worried and Deborah was getting angry. “Do you have any idea where Casey would have gone?” she asked.
“She must have—” Jack began.
“Quiet,” Mila said, cutting him off. As far as he was concerned, these were authority figures. It was taboo for Rom to give sensitive information to the authorities.
Deborah stared at Mila. He could tell her eyes were tracing over his bruises. She extended a hand and gently touched his black eye. “Ow,” he said.
“The same people who did this to you are now after Casey,” Deborah pointed out. “They’ll kill her if we don’t—”
“Find her first!” Morton interrupted, then grabbed Mila, forcefully pulling him close by his T-shirt. “This is no joke,” he warned.
“The castle,” Sabina admitted. “She left hours ago for Wewelsburg Castle! Please, let him go!”
Morton released Mila into Sabina’s embrace. She held him tight, then grabbed the tipped-over chair to sit on, exhausted from all the excitement. Once seated, she began to reveal to them where she believed Casey had traveled.
“Why do you think she went there?” Jack asked.
“After I set you boys down, I asked her to help with the dishes. Then she asked me if I would do her card reading,” she said, embarrassed by her words. “The reading revealed she must seek out the hermit for help.” Sabina knew that Mila would be disappointed in her for lying about Casey sleeping in the bedroom.
“You knew she left and you let her go?” Mila asked.
“I had no choice, Mila. The reading revealed she was putting all of us in danger. I am sorry, but it was her choice. I left some money for her in an old Crown Royal bag on the kitchen table while I made a few more calls back to Romania to find out where Simon was being held. She was gone when I hung up.”
“Is the hermit Professor Hermann?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know. Casey seemed to think so,” Sabina answered.
“Wewelsburg has been under TNC control for years now. Victor Strauss leases it through an NGO,” Morton explained.
Deborah and Morton strategized quickly, keeping everything vague. Clearly, they didn’t trust Mila, Sabina, or Jack to hear the details of their plan.
“It’s my fault,” Jack said. “Going to Wewelsburg was my idea. Let me come with you.”
“Out of the question,” Deborah replied.
“I can help—” Jack began.
“No!” Deborah snapped.
Jack looked offended and hurt. Deborah’s gaze softened a little. It was the first time she’d shown any compassion, at least as far as Jack or Mila had seen.
“I know you care about her,” Deborah said, looking at Jack. This made Mila’s heart drop.
“Both of them do,” Sabina pointed out as she stood and rummaged through a junk drawer looking for a screwdriver.
Jack g
ave Mila a confused look. Mila looked away, not wanting his expression to betray his true feelings. Before Jack had a chance to say anything, Deborah broke the moment with more orders.
“Jack, you need to get to the American Consulate. Your parents are worried sick,” she said. “Mila…I guess you’ll have to stay here.”
“We need to get moving,” Morton insisted.
Without another word, they slipped out of the apartment, leaving only shattered glass and a broken door. Everyone took a few minutes to settle down, then they set to work cleaning up. Mila held the back door in place while Jack screwed the hinges back on. Sabina fretted as she paced around the kitchen, putting away the candles and cards.
Mila stared out the kitchen window as he held the door. A layer of thick clouds shrouded the sky, dimming the light of the rising sun. He could just barely make out the streets of Paderborn at the end of a long back alley. No one was awake yet, except for a man at the end of the alley who leaned against the wall, casually smoking a cigarette.
“I’m missing an earring now,” Sabina complained. “Must have fallen off the table. Gadje spies gotta barge in here…” she mumbled as she grabbed a dustpan and headed into the living room to sweep up the glass.
Jack was no less vocal about the situation. “This is bullshit,” he declared. “The castle doesn’t even open for hours. What’s Casey going to do—camp out ‘til they open?”
“Well, Hermann lives on the grounds of the castle, remember?” Mila reminded him.
“They could at least let us come along or something. How am I even supposed to get to the consulate?” Jack asked.
Sabina poked her head back into the kitchen. “After we clean up, you can call your parents back home,” she said. “I’m sure they’re worried sick, like the nice spies said. Then I’ll drop you off at the consulate.”
“How are you going to drop me?” Jack asked with a whine.
“With my car,” she retorted. “What? You think I ride a broomstick?”
Mila chuckled at his great-aunt’s sharp wit. “At least you get to go back to America. After this, I’ll probably end up on the run or in jail,” Mila said.
“You’re going to stay with me!” Sabina yelled.
“Casey’s got a powerful family. Maybe she can pull some strings or something,” Jack assured him.
Mila knew that was not going to happen. He didn’t understand how Jack could know so much yet be so naive. He kept talking, throwing out ideas about how Mila could avoid prison, but Mila stopped listening. He was distracted by an acrid scent that was slowly filling the room. It smelled like gas.
“What?” Jack asked.
Mila shuffled over and checked the stove. The knobs were all in the Off position. That couldn’t be where the gas smell was coming from. “You smell that?” he asked.
This time, Jack didn’t respond. Mila turned to see him staring out the kitchen window. A plume of smoke rose into the air, obstructing their view. Mila opened the window and leaned out. He saw flames coming from the bakeshop below.
Sabina barged in carrying her wooden sign, which was split in half. “The jerk broke my window sign, too,” she lamented. Then she noticed the rising smoke.
The fire spread with amazing speed. Before they could react, the back stairs were ablaze. Smoke poured into the kitchen as the whole room took on an orange glow.
Everyone ran for the front. They threw aside the kitchen curtain and hustled into the living room. As they did, Mila turned back to see flames spreading to the back wall near the stove. It was only a matter of seconds before the gas lines…
Boom! A fireball burst from the stove. Mila and Jack dove to the ground just in time, but the flames hit Sabina and her dress caught fire. Jack grabbed a blanket from the couch and beat back the flames. Then he threw the blanket over her for protection.
Mila helped Sabina to her feet as they threw the front door open. To their horror, they discovered the front stairs were burning as well. Mila grabbed another blanket and tried to beat back the flames.
“That won’t work!” Jack insisted.
Mila ignored him, forcing Jack to grab the now-burning blanket and rip it from Mila’s hands. He turned to Jack, who yelled, “We have to jump!” and pointed to the front window.
The flames were spreading and the air was sweltering. The entire apartment was starting to feel like an oven. Jack grabbed the remaining quilts from their makeshift beds and threw them over himself and Mila. Jack, Mila, and Sabina stared out the front window, hesitating for a moment. Then they took a leap of faith.
The blankets shielded them from broken glass as they crashed through the broken bay window. The fall was a good twelve feet, so they fell pretty hard. Jack rolled across the pavement like a stunt man. Mila ended up sprawled on his back, which sent shock waves of pain through his injured ribs.
It took a minute for Mila to recover. Then he noticed Sabina lying on her side next to him, not moving. She was alive and conscious but clearly in a lot of pain from her burns.
“She needs a doctor,” Mila said.
“I’ll get help,” Jack announced. He ran off to find an open business.
Mila kneeled by Sabina and held her hand.
“I’m OK,” Sabina insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
Suddenly, someone held an oxygen mask to Mila’s face. Paramedics? he thought at first. How’d they get here so soon?
Everything became fuzzy. The mask smelled like a mixture of glue and alcohol. He caught a glimpse of the arm of the “paramedic.” It bore a red tattoo of a sword and a ribbon. Mila, dizzy and disoriented, looked down at Sabina, seeing a look of terror in her eyes. Then everything went dark.
XXIV
Wewelsburg Castle
Dawn was breaking, and the sun began to paint the sky a beautiful reddish gold. Casey and her new best friend, Wolfy, began to walk up a steep road to where the taxi driver guided her. She began to feel helpless in her attempt to understand the mystery behind the golden nail, which seemed to attract danger at every turn. Pacing up the cobblestone road, she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Casey pet Wolfy to calm her nerves, and she started to think back to her private reading with Sabina. Earlier that night in the kitchen, while Jack and Mila were sound asleep in the front room, Sabina gave Casey her very first tarot reading.
“You have now become the hunted. All those around you are in grave danger,” she recalled Sabina saying.
The hermit card was the last card that Sabina had laid down. “What does it mean?” Casey asked.
“The last card reveals the solution to your dilemma.
“Should I run away and become a hermit?” Casey said, frightened about her impending fate.
“It’s OK,” Sabina said with compassion. “The Hermit card’s meaning is someone who is alone or an outsider. Because it’s the last card in the reading, it is telling you to seek out the hermit for your solution. Only he can help you and all others around you who are also in danger.”
“But who is the hermit?”
Sabina motioned her head so as to say, “I don’t know.”
Casey came out of her thoughts, and she began to feel frightened. She started to shiver, not from the chill in the air but from fear. She wanted to rise and take a step toward the hill and the castle beyond, but her fear paralyzed her. She couldn’t move at all. Unable to do anything else, she looked down at her companion.
“What am I doing, Wolfy?” she asked her furry escort.
She knelt down next to him and looked into his eyes. Wolfy looked back lovingly at her.
“I’m a wimp,” she declared. “You don’t have to say it. I know you’re thinking it.”
Casey continued speaking to the dog as if he could understand her. “I know what you’re thinking: ‘Just pretend you’re Liza Carver in a Whistleblower comic,’” she said, trying to come up with something to shak
e off her fears. “Well, Carver never had to deal with the devil himself. Just some mercenaries and the occasional terrorist.”
Wolfy tilted his head and gave a short bark: rrrruff! Casey looked down and saw he was pointing her to the Crown Royal bag with his snout, as if he knew what was inside.
“You’re right,” she said.
She looked down at the nail that was still wrapped in red. She stared at it a moment, then took hold of it. Her palm wrapped around it, feeling its shape through the soft cloth, and somehow, the fear was gone. She felt safe and strong. Her thoughts drifted back to her favorite comic book hero.
“Carver is always afraid when she has a mission,” she recollected. “That’s what makes that super-bitch so brave.”
Casey stood up, placed the nail back in the purple bag, grabbed a hold of Wolfy’s leash, and took her first step up the hill toward the beautiful sunrise.
Just over the hill, the structure of a large stone building began to come into view. With every step, as the building appeared larger and larger, she somehow felt more confident in her decision to come alone. She began to think that perhaps within those stone walls lay the answers she needed to rid herself of this curse.
“I’m cursed,” she said, realizing all that the word implied. She became frightened again. Her pace slowed, and her enthusiasm disappeared.
The ancient structure was now clearly in view. The beige stone building seemed more like a military fort rather than an elegant castle. It was laid out in a triangle shape, with three massive wings with peaked roofs that surrounded a central courtyard. At each corner where the wings met stood round towers. Two smaller ones topped with gray domes stood on either side of the south wing. A third much larger one with a flat roof loomed over the north corner.
Somehow the sight of the castle gave Casey a glimmer of hope. Maybe it was its imperial appearance, or perhaps there was some sort of strange energy about the place. Whatever it was, Casey’s fear was once again replaced with confidence and purpose.
