X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

"Nightcrawler!"

I glanced over my shoulder to see who'd come after me. "Rohleder," I nodded my greeting as she slowed to a trot.

"Hi, I'm glad I caught up to you before you left." She was a bit out of breath. "I want to thank you again for what you did back there. It was very brave of you."

"Es war nichts [It was nothing]," I shrugged.

"No, it wasn't!" Her dark eyes were wide; she seemed surprised that I took my ability for granted. "How do you do that?"

"Told you before, that's my secret." I frowned.

"I'm good at keeping secrets." She smiled and took another step forward. "If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"What makes you think your secret is of interest to me?" We were close enough for me to catch her scent on the breeze.

"Because," she stood on tip-toes to sing-song in my ear, "you won't find it without my help . . ."

"Find what?" I tried to sound bored.

"Whatever or whoever it is you're seeking. Without the right contacts, it's hopeless." She smiled impishly. "You're in a hurry. Agree to my price, and you'll buy more than just time in the long run."

"How much?"

"Tell me how you got us off the Ghost," she murmured, "or . . ."

"Or?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Or show me how good of a kisser you are."

I checked my surprise. What the hell kind of game was this? "Or?" I prompted further.

"Or your life becomes very interesting."

"Why are you asking for such a barter?" I softened my voice and slid my fingers into the hair falling against her right cheek.

"You intrigue me. I want to learn more about you."

"Do you, now?" I felt my wicked streak rise within me; my gloved fingers slid along her neck.

"Yes. I'm glad you chose this way. Experience shows passionate fighters to be passionate lovers, and I like to continue testing the hypothesis."

She sighed when I pulled her close to me, shivering when I barely brushed her cheek with mine. "The system?" I kept my lips hovering over hers.

"Kiss first," she insisted. Her lips were soft and warm beneath mine. I deepened the kiss as much to get my pent-up desires out of my system as to distract her; for a moment I was with my Miriam again. My Miriam? Ach, Kurt old man, you're going soft . . . but not too soft. The hand I'd kept along Rohleder's neck clamped down, my fingers pinching nerves in a rather painful manner. "Now," I watched, amused, as she stood on tip-toes again in a vain effort to relieve the pressure, "about these contacts . . ."

"Sicarii," she gasped, "we're called the Sicarii."

"And?" My fingers twitched, making life very unpleasant for Rohleder.

"Ow!" Her eyes squeezed shut. "Stop . . . please . . ."

"Talk." I loosened my grip.

"We fight the Nazis," she gasped, catching her breath. "We have our fingers in a lot of pies--"

"I'm looking for a Jew." I studied her face. Funny, but I wasn't sure she was that interested in me anymore.

"Toss a stone."

"She's with someone named Heidelmann. Ring any bells?"

"Yeah, funeral bells."ledeleder moved out of my reach but stayed nearby. "As soon as she gets boring or knocked up, she's meat. You've got a mean race against the clock ahead of you." She was rubbing the back of her neck as she sized me up. "You've been an assassin before, haven't you?"

I stared at her.

"We need more people with your skills," she continued. "Help us out, we'll help you out."

"How do I know who is and who isn't?"

Rohleder turned her back to me and lifted her hair off her neck. "Look for this mark." An ornate glyph of some sort was tattooed on her flesh. She turned to face me again. "When you get to Madrid, ask for Gabriel."

"Danke sehr [Thank you very much]," I smiled, looking her over. "You've been very helpful."

"Good luck." Rohleder's expression was a cross between thoughtful and sly. "Don't forget tok mok me up next time you're here."

I bowed, smiled, and bamfed away into the night.

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And so it was that I found myself in Madrid, searching the streets for the Sicarii. I was having no success at it and was about to press onward through Spain, the imminent sunrise before me, when I heard barking dogs, shrill whistles, and running feet. I took shelter in the shadows and saw two children turn the corner, their clothes ragged and themselves out of breath.

"Dead end!" one of them wailed in English upon seeing the bricks surrounding him. "Way to go, mate."

"Hey, I said making a break for it was a bad idea," the other boy spat. "But no, you had to run!"

The vicious-sounding barks and snapping of teeth were almost there. I watched the children debate their options. None of them could be pleasant.

"Well, it's been good working with you," the first boy said.

"Yeah, some difference we made, eh?" the second boy glowered, obviously bitter. "Tucked underground like bilge rats, living on trash and stolen water."

"Oi shit!"

The dogs arrived, their masters a handful of steps behind. I smiled grimly and vaulted off the wall, catching the boys by the scruffs of their necks and teleporting us into the sewers just as the police arrived.

"Wot the hell??"

"Shut up or they'll hear you," I hissed, letting go of one of them.

"How did you – whoa!" The second boy tensed when he saw me and drew his dagger with quick reflexes. "Wot the fuck are you?"

"The person who just saved your life. Show some respect, boy." I calmly leveled a sword at him, my tail easily extending my reach. "Unless, of course," my other sword was at the first boy's neck, "you want your friend to lose his head."

The second boy's nostrils flared but he put the weapon away and kept his hands in the open. "Wot do you want with us?"

"Information. I need to talk to Gabriel. Yill ill take me to him."

"Sorry, mate," the second boy dared to lie. "We don't know anyone named--"

"Wrong answer." I pushed the hair off my captive's neck to reveal a tattoo similar to Rohleder's. "You kids are Sicarii. You know Gabriel. You will take me to him."

"Or wot, you'll kill us?" the second boy smirked.

I smiled so my fangs caught the dim light. The boy had guts, I had to give him that. "Do you know what vivisection means?"

"Peter . . ." the first boy choked, his Adam's Apple scraping my blade. "We have to. We're bound--"

"Let go of Ricky or we're not going anywhere," Peter's eyes were steel.

Ricky scrambled out of my grasp and the boys led me through the subterranean passageways. As they whispered to one another, thinking I couldn't hear, I suddenly realized how much they resembled the band of rabble Gambit assembled after leaving us. Not that we hadn't been a half-step above rabble ourselves, at times . . . We emerged from the final tunnel to meet what seemed a dead end; the boys obscured the location of the mechanism that swung the wall aside and we walked through to a large room populated by a handful of people.

"Is Gabriel in tonight?" Peter asked the first person he saw. The girl blanched but told him he was, and he led me through another handful of tunnels that passed living quarters of various sizes. Everyone who saw me reacted visibly to my presence. Most shrank away, but a handful silently acknowledged me as though they recognized me. I pretended to not notice this and instead focused my attention on the man who was now before us.

"Thank you Pete, Rick," the man spoke before they could offer any explanation. "You've done well."

Both kids bowed and left the room, shutting the door behind them; I stayed put and waited for him sk wsk what I wanted. When he did not, I said, "I'm looking for Gabriel. Am I in the right place?"

"You are where circumstance has led you. How can you be in the wrong place?" he replied calmly.

"I don't have time for games." I struggled to keep from growling. "Where is Gabriel?"

"Why are you seeking Gabriel?"

"I was told by one of yours to talk to him about forming an alliance."

"Hm." The man's expression shifted into a smile. "What is your name, young man?"

"Nightcrawler."

"And what sort of alliance do you wish me to consider with you?"

"I'm tracking a woman in Berlin, and it was suggested that joining with you would expedite this."

"What would we get out of the deal?" Gabriel was looking me over.

"You'd gain the most effective assassin on the planet." My tail swished behind me. Some might call it bragging; I suspected it would be thuth.uth.

"That's a rather bold claim." Gabriel's only sign of interest was the way in which he leaned forward. "But I'll give you the chance to prove it. We've just received word that the Spanish ambassador to Australia is back in town. He's been trying to convince the Australian parliament to stop accepting refugees; obviously, we want to prevent that change in policy from occurring. Liquidate the ambassador for us, and I'll induct you."

"Not a problem," I purred.

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When Gabriel told me the ambassador was well-guarded, he'd understated himself. A clear entourage of eight men surrounded him wherever he went. Ah well, it had been a while since I'd had a good workout. I watched him from a patch of shadow across the street from the hotel as his car pulled away, leaving the ambassador his his men to head inside. Must have been a hard day at the office; the mark was heading straight for the bar. I waited ten minutes before straightening up and heading inside.

Normally I hate the rain, but it gave me the perfect disguise that night. The long raincoat and slouching hat were not out of place here and by keeping my tail wrapped around my waist, I looked like any other guest just coming in from the rain. I stood against a pillar in the lobby, reading the newspaper and facing the large mirror behind the concierge counters that reflected the bar behind me.

"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" A bellhop stopped as he passed by.

"Nein, danke [No, thank you]." I didn't look up from the article on the state of the country's economy.

"Are you sure? A sparkling water, perhaps, or one of our fine cigars?" he persisted.

"I'm fine, just waiting for my wife. You know how women are." I sounded hurried and annoyed.

"Yes, sir. If you change your mind, our concierge will be more than happy to attend to you."

I nodded curtly and, once the kid was gone again, looked back up at the reflectio the the dead man walking. Ah, Herr Botschafter [Mister Ambassador] liked the ladies. He and the pretty young thing who'd come to sit next to him were getting up now. They'd no doubt retire to the man's room . . . I shook my head briefly – my sentimentality would likely cost me my life someday, but I still disliked having to take down innocents.

The ambassador, the young woman, and half the ambassador's bodyguards went into one of the elevators on the left-hand bank while the rest of his men went into the elevator next to that one. Before the doors shut I wedged myself inside, pretending to be an oblivious guest.

"Which floor?" one of the men asked.

"Zweizig, danke [Twenty, thanks]," I answered. I figured they'd be dead by the 18th floor. As soon as the man hit the button and turned his key for an express ride, thus ensuring we wouldn't be interrupted, I did my par pro proud. My fist landed in one man's face; I jumped and took down two more with kicks to the head. The fourth man's windpipe was crushed shut by my tail, ensuring he'd not alert the others. I continued to strangle him while I gave the first guard another fist to the face.

The elevator stopped at twenty as instructed. I took the express key and used it on another elevator in the lobby to continue on to the top floor and Herr Botschafter's penthouse suite. As for my fresh kills . . . well, no one's sensibilities would be offended from the sight of blood. My elevator let me off at the desired destination, or it would have if I'd not been clinging to the ceiling of the car. It was those instincts again, and they were useful as always.

"Where are they?" one of the remaining bodyguards asked as the doors opened. I grinned when another of them took the bait I'd left by stepping into the elevator to get the key ring from off the floor. Sure, they'd looked inside, but they'd not looked up. Nobody ever looks up . . . I dropped down, feet catching the one particularly stupid guard in the chin. He fell backward into the penthouse foyer; his companions opened fire while shouting instructions at the ambassador and his guest. I dodged the bullets with relative ease but kept moving. Small places make for painful ricochets, and I didn't want one. I teleported, grabbed one man as he pulled his trigger, and popped us back out so that he shot another guard in the head. Then I drew my swords, slitting one man's throat from my perch atop the gunman's shoulders. My tail wrapped around his throat and I hit the ground, yanking him down with me. The guard who'd gone into the elevator was on his feet now; I easily ran him through as I let go of the other man, his neck snapped from the sudden change in direction.

Eight down, two to go.

The ambassador and the girl were locked tight behind the titanium-reinforced doors of the bedroom. Those doors would stand against many kinds of abuse but presented no barrier to those who can teleport. The girl was sobbing in fear when she saw me; the mark was frantically explaining the situation to the police while aiming a gun at me. I let him squeeze off a round before bamfing over, grabbing his head, and separating it from his body. The spent round impotently hit the other wall; tirl irl screamed hysterically, begging me to let her go.

"Es tut mir sehr leid, Fraulein [I am very sorry, miss]," I told her truthfully before I twister her head sharply, killing her instantly and, God willing, painlessly. I hung up the phone, wiped off my swords, and began rummaging in the closet.

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"That's certainly . . . unique." Gabriel dropped the ambassador's head back into the piece of luggage I'd taken from the hotel. "It's not a clean cut even though you carry swords. Did you do this with your bare hands?"

"More or less," I shrugged. "I've upheld my end of the bargain – your enemy is dead."

"Yes, and I shall honor our end." Gabriel rose from his chair and spoke with someone behind the curtain that sectioned off this room from the rest of the underground compound beyond. I suspected that few people got to see what was behind the curtain.

"Hello, Nightcrawler." Some of what was beyond the curtain emerged to see me.

"Fraulein," I bowed politely at the woman accompanying Gabriel, my mental gears spinning. I recognized her – she’d smiled at me when I passed her days earlier with Peter and Ricky.

"Magdalena will see to your initiation and orientation," Gabriel explained. "While your orders will come directly from myself or another Cabal leader, Magdalena will be your main resource n agn agent for the Sicarii."

"I'm on my way to Berlin," I reminded him.

"And I shall travel with you," Magdalena stepped forward, her feet whispering on the stones. "I am your priestess, and yours alone. I am to accompany you in your travels. I will be transferred to the same Cabals as you."

"I don't need a priestess," I looked past her to Gabriel. "I have no use for religion."

"You needn't be so defensive," Gabriel smiled. "No one will try to convert you to anything."

"We each must follow the dictates of our hearts," Magdalena took another step towards me. "Your calling has brought you here to help us defeat the Nazis. My calling is to keep you human while you do it."

"Whatever," I gave in. If putting up with the clergy would get me to Miriam . . . "When do we get down to business?"

"Later tonight, after you've had time to prepare. I'll show you to your room." Magdalena smiled again and walked past me into the public hallway. Gabriel nodded for me to follow, so I did.

My room was small and sparsely furnished. I had a bed, nightstand, and dresser taking up most of the room, with a smaller bed in the opposite corner. A bathroom was accessible from this room and no other. Magdalena explained that I would have such accommodations at my home Cabal as a perk to the job.

"It's not much, it's not fancy, but it's yours." She opened one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a fresh change of clothes. "Go get cleaned up, then we'll get some food into you and get this over with."

I emerged from the shower fifteen minutes later to find her sitting patiently on the smaller bed in the corner, eyes closed and humming softly. I looked her over as I dressed. Her skin was a dark olive tone and her straight black hair hung over her left shoulder. Her slender hands were resting on her knees, loosely curled as she meditated.

"Are you ready for dinner, Nightcrawler?" she asked, eyes still closed. I answered in the affirmative and followed her throughout the compound to gain a meager plate ome ome unidentifiable food that was heavily spiced. As we ate I ignored the stares and whispers around us and listened to her explain exactly what I was about to commit my life to. The Sicarii were primarily an organized band of underground terrorists operating throughout Europe in an effort to thwart the Reich and bring it down. While all sorts of illegal activity was utilized as a means to their end, they were best known for the murders committed over the years. Respectable German citizens the continent over feared them because they struck in the midst of large crowds, often in broad daylight, and were seldom caught. The name, it turns out, came from a historical band of Jewish zealots who were out to overthrow Roman occupation in Jerusalem and the surrounding area sometime around the B.C./A.D. change-over.

"So, you're a group of religious fundamentalists?" I gritted my teeth and debated on backing out.

"Some of us are certainly very devout, but to several paths. Some are of the Hebrew faith, others of us follow the Carpenter. I myself am Moorish and place my faith in the lessons of the Prophet." Magdalena finished the contents of her plate. "As Gabriel said, no one will try to convert you to anything. That is not our intent. We are all here for a common purpose, which is to take down what we perceive as a great Evil in our midst: the Nazi regime." She placed her fork along the edge of her plate and studied me with calm eyes. "If you are uncomfortable with this, though, you should not join us. This is for life, and turncoats are dealt with in the same manner as any other enemy. Neither you nor the woman you seek would be safe from the rest of us if you were to betray us."

"At least you're honest about that." I smirked and looked around. Peter watched me from a seat along one of the walls of the common room we were gathered into; I watched him back.

"I do hope you can see past the religious connotations and choose to join us," Magdalena spoke as I engaged in the staring match.

"And why is that?" My eyes bored into Peter's. Damn, this kid was persistent. So was I, though. I wasn't about to lose a staring match to a twelve-year-old.

"You understand the value of life and the workings of power very well. To have your gifts and choose to defy En Sabah Nur's rule speaks highly our our moral character and inner strength."

Okay, some things were more important than this petty battle of wills. My head spun around and I felt my eyes grow wide at her words. "What did you say?"

"Oh, I just meant that you are a good man--"

"Whose rule?" my voice was a whispered hiss. It was almost as though saying Apocalypse's true name would summon him to the room.

"You heard me," Magdalena replied softly, looking down at the grain of the wood in the table. "You are known to the clergy of the Sicarii. No one will harass you; it will not be permitted. We know we owe our existence in part to you, and we respect that."

I drew my breath slowly, my insides invaded by a creeping sense of cold. "How is it that I am known to you? Who told you?"

"Those who watch told the Cabals that you'd manifested here from an other-where. Gabriel called the rest of us together and said that we would, as a unified group, surely meet with you someday and that we should be prepared. The priests and priestesses of the other Cabals were similarly briefed about you, but only those of our station." Magdalena's eyes lifted from the table to look at me full in the face. "If you choose to part ways tonight, your secrets are safe with us. Of this you have our sacred word."

I took a few hours to think things through, but in the end I figured this was the only path that sat well with me. My conscience would bother me too much if I sat back and did nothing to stop the Nazis, even after I accomplished my rescue of Miriam. There had to be something after that, and I suspected this would be right up Miriam's alley given what she'd been involved in when we first met. I told Magdalena my decision and was instructed to wait for her in the large common room that served as the group hang-out. Word of my decision spread rapidly among the Sicarii and many of them packed into the room to watch me get my tattoo. I held my hair off my neck while Magdalena shaved the fur away, then swabbed the area with alcohol.

"Oh, your skin is blue, too," she commented conversationally as she worked.

"You seem surprised."

"I've just never seen anyone blue before."

"It's not very common," I agreed, shivering as the alcohol evaporated. "The trait is extremely rare, and recessive at that."

"What exactly causes it?" She warned me that she was about to start with the needles.

"Missing enzyme." I winced as the needles pierced my skin. "I'm sure you'll see for yourself soon enough, but I bleed more brown than red." I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing as more needles injected the black ink to form the required pattern.

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I was given my assignment the next morning: I was to be security to an envoy of refugees heading to Siberia, although I would be replaced when we reached Berlin. I was given a few Marks and access to a map of the route to Germany. We'd be on foot for the most part but it couldn't be helped . . . I hoped Miriam could hold out until I got there. Magdalena, as my personal tagalong, accompanied me when I met with the rest of the guard. I sighed inwardly when I saw Peter; he smirked and mock-saluted me before lighting a cigarette.

"Good. Now that everyone is here, let's get the introductions out of the way." The man was around my age with dark hair, skin, and eyes. "Nightcrawler, I presume?"

"Ja. And you are . . . ?"

"Suleiman." He had an air of leadership – he was used to being obeyed. I hoped he didn't let that get to his head because it would be a long journey for us all if I had to answer to an asshole. "You've already met Pete and Rick. This is Ramon," he indicated the smiling Spaniard who looked to be in his thirties, "Marcos," Suleiman gestured to another man who had green eyes and black hair, "and Suzanne." He stepped asid I c I could see the pale slip of a girl who sat silently on a c, st, staring at me. She kept this up for what felt like a long time and I was surprised to find that the waifish thing could unnerve me like
that. It was as though she were looking into me for something.

"Is everything okay, Suz?" Magdalena's voice cut in gently.

"She chose wisely," Suzanne finally turned her gaze to the woman at my side, searching her now. "She always does."

Magdalena blushed and looked away from Suzanne. Rather than leave well enough alone, I aswho who "she" was.

"The Metatron," Suzanne's liquid eyes found mine again.

Before I could ask what a Metatron was Suleiman cut in and told us to gear up and be ready to leave at sundown. Magdalena whispered that she'd explain later as she took me to arrange our supplies.

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Our group was small for the number of Sicarii accompanying them. I thought so, at least. There were six of them: a family of four inc included two small children and a young couple already on their way from Portugal. As expected, they all kept their distance from me at the first of it and I was fine with that. I needed some time to think about what I'd gotten myself into.

We traveled in much the same manner as the trek through America had been in that we slept days and moved nights. We were heading north to start, stopping our first morning in Segovia at the safe house there. Then it was on to Valladolid, which took a few days precisely because the terrain was open plains. As we walked we took turns helping to occupy the children – most of us did, anyway. Esteban, their father, made it clear that they were not to come near me even though he never said as much. I saw it in the familiar way in which they were distracted to look at something else when facing me, or shooed away when they came too close. I debated silently which parent was annoying me more: Esteban with his open prejudice, or his wife Reina with her hasty glances and nervous smiles.

The newlyweds from Portugal, Tiago and Lucinda, were more receptive to me for some reason. When I asked why they were taking the time to talk with me they matter-of-factly said that they'd gotten to know Marcos and Ramon when they were coming across to Spain andidesides, Ramon had seemed a bit too friendly with Lucinda for both their tastes. I laughed when I heard that, which earned a surprised glance from Magdalena – she’d already learned that it took a lot to get me to crack a smile most of the time.

"Why are you heading for Siberia?" I plucked a piece of tall grass as I walked through the field.

"Portuguese bounty hunters don't like snow, or so we hear." Lucinda smiled sadly, her words translated by Magdalena.

"How did you earn that honor?" I asked.

"We were forging papers for people," Tiago explained, rubbing his wife's arm in a comforting gesture. "One of our customers was detained and convinced to admit that the papers were fakes. The Gestapo got involved and traced them back to our book shop."

I nodded, "Ja, I understand it's a very dangerous business." My sister was hanged for running papers . . . I shook my head to clear the remembered words away.

Several minutes of quiet settled over us, then Lucinda started a new topic. "I understand that you're parting from us in Berlin. Is this true?"

"Ja," I nodded, glancing behind us out of habit – I was the rear guard that night. "I have business there that is urgent."

"Will you be there long?" she inquired.

"I hope not."

"Unpleasant business?"

"Could be." I stopped suddenly, holding up my hand for them to be quiet. Then I teleported to the front of the line. "Suleiman," I arrived at his side, "we've got company coming."

"How many?" He handed Armando, the younger child, back to his mother. Reina cast a worried glance at her husband when I said it sounded like a group of about five.

Suleiman quickly gestured to Peter, Ricky, and Suzanne to have our charges get low in the grass while Marcos crept with me to the back again. We watched silently, the only sounds for a moment the sound of grass rustling in the breeze. Then I heard it again, the snatches of conversation exchanged between male voices.

"What are they saying?" I whispered to Ms.
s.

"Nothing of concern to us yet," he answered. "Something about camping . . . " He chuckled a moment later. "The one's brother is with a girl – they’re going to cause trouble for them. They haven't seen us, I don't think."

"Best to keep it that way," I whispered back, waiting until the boys were another hundred meters away to begin moving. Suleiman ordered us tay tay put and keep silent for a half hour before moving on again. I heard Esteban ask Ramon something when the all-clear was given and Ramon answered back in Spanish or Portuguese; I couldn't tell which. Magdalena sighed softly and made an unpleasant face as the conversation continued.

"He wants to know how much further it is to the next safe house, and Ramon said about thirty kilometers. He's not happy."

"He doesn't have much choice in the matter though, does he?" I smirked.

"No," she shook her head and began translating for me as the conversation went along.

"No, we'll have to ford it ourselves," Ramon's voice held a note of professional patience.

"That's outrageous!" Esteban's face was red with anger by now. "We won't make the house by morning if we have to swim across."

"Tell that idiot we won't have to swim," I sighed. Magdalena just looked at me for a minute. "Tell him," I repeated.

She translated my words into Spanish, which started a spectacularly heated argument that had my shadenfreude [approximately "misery-joy" -- enjoying the misfortunes of others] wishing for a translation dictionary. "Well?" I asked Magdalena as I watched the man's retreating form.

"He doesn't like the idea," she looked down as she over-simplified the argument, "but Marcos thinks it's a great idea if you're able to take all of us across."

"What did they really say?" I stopped her from walking away.

"It's not worth repeating, ry,"y," her eyes were sad.

I watched her being uncomfortable around me for about thirty seconds before I said, "I know what 'Diablo' means, Magdalena. I've heard it enough times in enough languages to understand."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, looking away.

"What else did he say?"

"He . . . doesn't want you to carry Armando and Emiliana across. He somehow thinks you'll steal their souls during the trip."

"That's a new one." I scratched the back of my ear with my tail. "Pft, zur Hölle mit ihm [To Hell with him]. He can swim it if he wants to." I shrugged and
walked away.

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"Bugger me!" Peter eyed the Duero skeptically as he lit yet another cigarette. "You sure you can get us across that, fish bait?"

"I'll be sure to drop you on the way over," I growled. Snot-nosed punk.

"Pete's got a point," Suleiman's bass rumbled. "The rains have swollen the river considerably. I can't even see the other shore from here."

"It's only about a half-kilometer," I peered across, satisfied to see a surprised look flit across Peter's face. "It won't be a problem for me. But we'll have to be quick about it. We're upwind from the ferry – if there are any guards they'll either hear or smell us going across."

"And once we're all across it's still another fifteen kilometers to the stop," Marcos pointed out. "We'll be cutting it close."

"Best get started, then." Suleiman’s voice was crisp. "Nightcrawler?"

I nodded and turned to address the group. "Belongings divided evenly among the adults, bitte [please]. Esteban, Reina, I'll take you across first so you can receive Armando and Emiliana next. Lucinda and Tiago after them, then our own people." I extended my hand to Reina, who reached for me hesitantly before having her hand snatched away by Esteban.

"We'll find our own way across." He glared at me while Magdalena translated.

"You're a fool. With the waters so high they are also likely to be very deep, with a swift current. You will be putting your children at risk," I answered.

"We can pay for the ferry," he countered.

I looked downriver to the twinkling lights. "And what if there are Polizei [police] there? They look for such as us, and I'm an advantage they would never expect. This is much safer."

"Bloody moronic git," Peter mumbled under his breath through the cigarette smoke. No one eleemeeemed to hear him.

"They are there, waiting." Suzanne's voice lilted towards us. "To try the ferry would be folly."

"You are sinful, both of you!" Esteban's voice rose as he rounded on Suleiman. "This is not the protection we made a 'donation' for, Moor! A demon and a witch, it's disgraceful!"

Tiago spoke before Suleiman could answer, "While you are spouting off your ignorant prejudices, the rest of us are waiting for a safe passage. If you feel that strongly about it, go, and may your God protect you."

"I agree with Tiago," Suleiman’s voice was calm. "You paid for safe passage, but you do not get the choice of which operatives take you to freedom. You and your family are free to leave – but of course, you understand that our responsibility to you is forfeit at that point."

They left with more insults flung at us that Magdalena didn't bother translating. I sighed and offered my hand to Lucinda, who clasped her fingers around my palm without hesitation. "How does this work?" she asked softly.

"Just like that." Iost ost smiled a half a second later and let go of her hand.

"Thank you, Nightcrawler," she smiled and watched me go back across for Tiago.

I took Suzanne and Magdalena across next, followed by Peter and Ricky. Suleiman insisted on waiting to go last, so Ramon and Marcos were next. As I reached the shore once again I heard the sounds of Esteban and Reina's interception – shouts, screams, guns.

"What is it?" Suleiman couldn't hear it from where we were, so I told him.

"They have made their decision," he said with resignation, "and we have more people to escort."

I bamfed back across the Duero with him and announced that I was heading over there. When he ordered me to stay with the rest of the group, I asked him if he could live with those children dying because their father had been a bigot. He said nothing and I pushed myself downriver.

"Mein Gott [My God]," I whispered as I arrived. Reina lay on the ground, blood leaking from her mouth, her daughter whimpering under her – she’d used herself as a shield for Emiliana. Esteban was dead also and I'd arrived in time to see them murder Armando. As he fell to the dirt I rushed over, snatched the girl from her shelter, and teleported away as a bullet raced past my ear. The whole thing had taken less than two minutes. As I arrived back to the group, Ramon asked what had happened.

"Suzanne was right," I tried to set Emiliana down, but she clung to me desperately and wouldn't let go.

"The others?"

"Tot [Dead]." I tried to pry the girl off me again.

"No me deje por favor, ángel," she sobbed into my neck, where she'd firmly buried her face.

"What did she say?" I asked Magdalena.

She came over and gently asked in Spanish for the girl to repeat herself. "She said, 'Please don't leave me, angel'."

"We have to go," Suleiman said quietly, turning to take point again. As the others picked up their things I had Magdalena tell Emiliana that I was going to put her down just long enough to put on my rucksack. She reluctantly agreed on the condition that I'd carry her the rest of the way. And despite my awkwardness with children, especially traumatized, crying ones, I did just that.