X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

I took a deep breath and smiled happily as I felt the warm body next to me shift closer. We were someplace warm, soft, and clean – it seemed odd that the bed linens smelled of lavender, though. Usually didn’t see that in the safe houses. I made a small noise of enjoyment and moved closer to him. He responded by kissing my shoulder tenderly, his lips moving over the flesh there as his arms squeezed me tight around my waist. I felt certain parts of his anatomy poking me and smiled wider – so we had made love last night, finally. That must be what the aching between my legs was. I’d heard that it hurts the first time . . .

His touch slowly moved to my ribs, his open palm sweeping over my curves in a way that made me taut with desire. Down my waist, up over my hip, rubbing along my thigh, and back up again . . . “Nightcrawler,” I moaned softly and kept my eyes closed. It felt good. He felt good, and I couldn’t wait to feel more of him. He made a small noise of enjoyment and kissed me between my shoulder blades, his hand moving from my hip to between my legs. And suddenly, for some reason I couldn’t immediately fathom, it seemed threatening all of a sudden. My mind and heart both raced as he touched me, trying to figure it out what –

Fingers. Nightcrawler only had two and a thumb—

I jerked awake and away from whoever it was who was touching me, shrieking loudly enough to make them recoil instinctively to the other end of the bed for a moment.

Erich. Oh God, I was staring back at Erich Heidelmann, who was gaping at me with wide blue eyes and very ruffled blonde hair before recovering enough to ask me if I’d had a bad dream.

I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t even remotely act proper at that moment. Couldn’t apologize, explain, excuse myself, nothing. All I could manage was to look around frantically for the w.c. and get there in time to completely empty my guts oatevatever I had eaten last night. Erich let me finish what I was doing in peace (well, as much peace as one has when puking ones insides out), but when I came back out several minutes later he wordlessly handed me his robe to cover up with. I took it from him with trembling hands and covered myself up, noting silently with an odd burst of humor that it was far too long for me and swept the ground – I had the image of a queen in her royal robes.

Yeah, Queen Esther sleeping with Haman instead of King Ahasuerus. If there’d been anything left in my stomach, I’d have been sick again.

“Too much wine last night, Miriam?” he asked me in a soft voice.

“Uh,” I latched onto the excuse, “yes. I’m sorry, I’ve never been much of a drinker . . . “

He nodded and told me to go ahead and get cleaned up; he’d meet me downstairs for breakfast. I headed for the shower and scrubbed myself physically clean, but inside I felt like a leper. Or a whore. Maybe a combination of the two.

When I got downstairs Erich was at the table, sipping coffee while he read the paper. I was reading the headline on the front page when he looked up, gestured for me to sit down, and commented with a frown, “Absolutely disgraceful. There’s been another assassination.”

“Yes, the Spanish ambassador, judging from the headlines.” I thanked the butler for the coffee and asked for some toast.

“And eggs for her, too,” Erich ordered. When I began to protest he smiled a little. “It’ll help you with the hangover.”

“Oh,” I blinked and assented. “Over easy, please,” I tried to smile at the hired man. He nodded and went back to the kitchen. “Who do they think is responsible?” I continued the conversation.

“Who else? It has to be the Sicarii. But this one is more barbaric than usual, even for them.”

“How so?”

“You don’t know anything about this, okay?” He leveled a serious gaze at me, continuing only when I nodded. “It didn’t make the papers, but the Ministry says he was decapitated.”

I blinked a few times. “That’s not their usual tactic?”

“Not like this. There appears to have been no instruments used to do the deed.” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing on, as though it were not at all unusual, “And the security cameras hidden in the walls caught the queerest thing. When the assassin got past the guards he didn’t force the doors leading to the ambassador. He simply disappeared and reappeared on the other side – or so it would seem. Most odd, wouldn’t you say?”

“Absolutely,” I breathed, completely shocked. I recovered enough to ask, “Do they have any idea how it was done? I mean, people don’t just blink in and out of the world like that.”

“Not yet, but the tapes are being reviewed frame by frame. They’ll figure it out.” He looked back at the paper to another article, offering me my choice from the remaining sections on the table. I picked up the local news and pretended to read it as the magnitude of what he’d said began to sink in.

Nightcrawler was in Europe. He’d been seen, probably without knowing it. They’d seen him teleport. But he was here. He was coming for me. I was intensely proud of myself for waiting until after the taxi dropped me off at my flat and I was inside before weeping with relieved elation.

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The Ministry was bustling madly as they tried to figure out who and what Nightcrawler was and how he did the disappearing trick. No one said it – it was strictly classified information – but there was nothing else I could think of that would have them scrambling like that. Erich’s job had become a lot more interesting and fast-paced than normal as every bit of intelligence and intercepted communications were picked over again and again for hints regarding the newest assassin to pop up. Others were brought in to translate, as I was too busy typing memos to other officials and taking phone calls to do the job myself. I endured this as well as I could; as the pace continued to pick up around the office I started to wonder just what they’d uncovered, and the not knowing began to worry me.

Even outside of work Erich was distracted. The plays he took me to couldn’t adequately hold his attention; talk during dinner was strained as he struggled to find lighter topics to discuss; and when we were invited to his parents’ house again for another luncheon party he was distracted there, too. But he encouraged me to go play, and so I was sitting in Mrs. Heidelmann’s garden with a cup of coffee in my hands and talking with Elizabeth yet again.

“Are you sure you won’t consider giving us another go?” she asked softly before sipping her own coffee. “You’re in a prime position to help us, and I’ll admit it, we’re worried.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” I lied with much displayed regret, “but after what happened last time . . .” I let the thought trail off unfinished and watched an insect working on a rose.

“I understand,” she sighed, obviously disappointed. We were quiet for a minute before she changed the subject. “How are you and Erich getting on? Is he good to you?”

“Yes, he’s a perfect gentleman,” I replied. It was true; he was as much a gentleman as a master could be with his slave. “He’s treating me very well, thank you for asking.”

“Do you still miss your beau from America?” she asked gently.

“Well, one never forgets the good times,” I answered with a touch of sadness. “But I try to not think about him. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

“Does he have a name?”

A red fwentwent up and I remembered Christopher’s admonishment to not trust her. “Oh, yes!” I laughed, gears spinning. “Nicholas Cruxhaven.” I figured that was close enough mnemonically to Nightcrawler for me to remember it again.

“What was he like?”

“Hm . . .” I stalled for time and finally decided on part of the truth. “Very witty, but always a bit moody. He’d recently loss pas parents when I met him, and I think he was still dealing with the shock.”

“It was sudden, then?”

“Yes. One day everything was normal, and then they were just gone.” Hurray for vague euphemisms. “He took it pretty hard.”

“How did you two meet?”

“I . . . I really don’t feel like talking about Nick,” I bit my lip. I knew she was fishing for something. “I don’t want to think about him, okay? I still miss him and it’s hard . . .” I sighed. “Please don’t ask again.”

Elizabeth nodded and let it drop, moving on to more lady-like topics such as the new line of make-up advertised in some magazine and the sale she’d hit in the department store earlier in the week. I joined in these topics eagerly, thankful that the topics had changed. But after a while I began to notice something.

“Is it my imagination, or have the new arrivals not come over to say hello?”

Elizabeth sighed. “No, you’re right. Those are friends of Margot Kohler.” She nodded in their direction and I followed her eyes, watching them smoke cigarettes across the garden with Erich’s mother. “I understand she caused some trouble for you at the last get-together.”

“Erich certainly thought so,” I murmured, watching them.

“He’s right to be concerned. It’s been whispered that you two are intimate together, and he can’t afford that sort of a scandal right now.”

The woman in the bright blue dress looked over, saw me, and turned back around haughtily when I smiled and waved hello.

“Is the air better above her head like that?” I turned back around.

“If she doesn’t start looking where she’s breathing, she’s likely to catch a bumblebee in the nose. You can imagine the scene that would cause,” Elizabeth retorted wickedly.

I stifled my laughter, relieved to see that Elizabeth was doing the same. “Back to serious conversation, though,” I recomposed myself, “I’d think a scandal would be the least of his concerns. If it reaches the authorities, I mean . . .”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” she dismissed my concern with a graceful wave of her hand. “Money talks louder than any socialite, especially when it’s used to line the pockets of an official. He can afford to buy his way out of it at least once.” hop hoped she was right. My life would become very interesting if she wasn’t.

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My first major social event with Erich came a few months later. We’d been invited to a masquerade party to celebrate the Summer Solstice, and things had finally settled down to the point that Erich could enjoy himself again. We spent time together working out what we were going as and when we made our entrance we were an immediate sensation. We’d gone as Spring and Autumn. I was dressed in a sweeping gown of pastel pink with accents of brilliant blues, greens, and yellows. My long gloves were also pink with flowering vines embroidered in vibrant detail, my purse had been special ordero mao match, and my hair was upswept and pinned with fresh flowers. My face was hidden by a mask sporting sequins in hues that matched the rest of my costume. Erich, on the other hand, was decked out in a suit of gold, orange, and flaming red with a sequined mask to match. And I had to admit, we were a very good looking couple that night. He’d paid off the authorities before an official inquest could be held and the social sniping about our relationship had died down consider, so, so no one had any hesitation about coming up to us and making conversation. I met so many socialites that it made my head spin but I spoke gaily to them all, trilling on like I belonged among them. I’d had months of preparation for it through all the little gatherings before hand and it was now second nature to sip drinks and speak vapidly about nothing at all.

The late afternoon melted into evening and when I got a half a second to myself I realized I was having a good time. Erich had generously allowed me to dance with anyone who asked and he was doing the same, sweeping other costumed ladies over the dance floor with the same ease he displayed in the privacy of his home. I was currently in the arms of a young man with brilliant green eyes, smiling up at him as he told me about his home in Austria. I listened politely, asking appropriate questions, and agreeing moments later that we both needed a spot of rest. He and I walked to the punch bowl and shared a drink on the balcony, still talking about ourselves. He was now asking about me – where was I from, how had I met Erich, etcetera. I gave guarded answers but still spoke openly, giving the illusion that I had nothing to hide. Of all the people who’d chosen to come up to me he was the first to make real conversation and I found it a very pleasant change of pace.

“Hey, Miriam,” he grinned at me, “you seem like an adventurous woman. The Chancellor has an amazing set of Faberge Eggs in another wing. Want to see them?”

I laughed nervously, glancing around. “Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, what if someone comes looking for us?”

“It’ll take just a minute. Come on,” he took my hand and began weaving us through the crowd quickly. Moments later we were in a darkened hallway, and another moment later he was opening the door to the room at the end.

“I don’t think we should be here,” I whispered.

“It’s not like you’re going to steal anything,” he whispered back. “Come on, live a little.”

I took a deep breath and went in after him. The door closed on the blackened room and I felt someone grab me from behind. Their hand went over my mouth before I could cry out and someone else bent my head down and jabbed a needle in my neck. My instincts kicked in and I stomped down hard on someone’s foot, gave someone an elbow in the stomach, and took the first opportunity to spin around and away from my attackers.

“This will be easier if you don’t make us hurt you,” my dancing companion spoke into my ear. “That was just a tracker, small enough that Heidelmann won’t notice it’s there. If he asks, it’s a bug bite, understand?”
ck yck you!” I spat, trying to see anything in the darkness and failing. “Who in the Hell are you and what do you want with me??”

“She has to ask. Jesus, we’re losing our touch,” someone else answered flippantly.

“She’s a firecracker though. I can see why he likes her so much,” another person answered their friend. “As always, the Ghost has come through spectacularly well.”

“You’ve heard of the Sicarii before. We know you have, working in the Ministry of Intelligence,” yet another voice answered my question. “As for what we want with you . . . You’re going to help us out.”

“Go to Hell,” I growled with courage I wasn’t sure I was really feeling. “I’m not that stupid. I’m into self-preservation.”

“That’s why you’ll help us, Ms. Shaham,” the same voice continued smoothly. “That tracker tells us where you are every minute. We’ll use it to send someone to see you every week, where you will provide to us information about everything Heidelmann’s been doing since the last visit. Refuse to cooperate and we’ll kill you. Try to run and we’ll find you, then kill you.”

“Rather painfully for the trouble too, I might add,” the flippant one piped up.

“You’re observant and intelligent, Ms. Shaham. We’re not asking you to do anything you’ve not already been doing. We’re just asking you to tell us what you see and hear.”

“You’re not exactly asking.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“See what I mean? Smart and observant.”

I’d begun to shake with anger and fear by this point. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing, not even when a flashlight clicked on near the glass cases lining the sides of the room pro promised, there were Faberge Eggs inside the cases. The person holding the torch and the glass cutter was dressed all in black,ludiluding a mask that obscured their face; after examining one of the Eggs they pronounced that they were real.

“Go shopping,” the serious one, who I guessed was the leader of the band, instructed. “That’s enough to keep us in good shape for the rest of the year at least.”

I was still shaken when I was escorted back out to the dance floor by my partner, who left me just as soon as I hit the parquet tiles. He disappeared into the crowd which I now noticed was in a pandemonium.

“Miriam! There you are!” Erich’s hand grabbed my arm roughly, his mask discarded, his face pale. “Time to go.”

“Why? What’s happened?” I tried to see what was causing the disturbance but saw only frantic people.

“Come on, quickly. There are probably more.”

I let him lead me out to the car, where his driver peeled away and barreled down the streets, back out to the Autobahn, and towards home.

“Erich, what happened?”

“Sicarii,” he stared out the windows. “The Chancellor is dead.”

My eyes widened and I stared straight ahead.

“Where were you? How did you not know what was happening?”

“I got dragged to another part of the mansion by someone. He . . . he tried to rape me,” my voice shook. I could have told him the truth, but I figured that would get me killed by someone.

“Are you okay?” he turned to face me, concern in his eyes.

“Y-yes. I got away . . .” I trailed off as he offered me his arm. I moved closer and curled up next to him, silent for the rest of the drive. Erich said nothing either, and the miles dragged by slowly at 200 kilometers per hour.

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I didn’t sleep at all that night. Thankfully it was a weekend and I was able to crash sometime the next afternoon, sleeping fitfully as the ramifications of everything that had gone on at the Solstice Ball assaulted my mind. I’d heard a term for what I now was to the Sicarii – I was now an OIO: Obligated Involuntary Officer. That angered me at first, then it occurred to me that any rescue attempts Nightcrawler would make had just gotten a huge monkey wrench thrown into them. We wouldn’t be able to fight them all off forever, and he’d be just as marked as I if I left with him. I tried to think about other things and settled on what the Chancellor’s death meant for life in Berlin and the rest of the Reich. There was a successor in place of course, and they’d be sworn in the next morning if they hadn’t been already. But something like that couldn’t just go unanswered . . . A few weeks before the papers had described the type of retributions the government handed out when hitting back at the resistance. If catching a group of refugees in Munster resulted in the slaughter of the town’s Jewish population, what atrocities would be carried out for such a daring assassination? It was a reality I didn’t want to think about.

The most notable thing about life in Berlin since the Chancellor’s death was the increased security measures everywhere. A curfew was imposed for all citizens at eleven p.m., which annoyed Erich enough for him to comment on it several times. When he wasn’t busy playing with me he liked to be out late drinking, smoking, and doing whatever else it was aristocrats did to relax when among their own. All it meant for me was that I spent a lot more time entertaining him in ways that still made my flesh crawl.

Well, that’s not all it meant. It also meant that I now had papers that I had to show the security guards at the Ministry every morning that declared me a Jewess with special clearance. Those papers got checked against my left arm every day, which drew varied reactions from the citizens around me – most of them slightly embarrassing to me. They also issued a badge that I had to wear on my lapel throughout the building, since apparently it was too much trouble to check my tattoos once I was past the lobby. Or maybe it was just easier, since everyone there had similar identification pinned to their chests. I didn’t really care. I was too busy taking note of snatches of conversations and memorizing what I typed about each day to let it bother me.

Erich and I kept sharing beds since the first night long ago, and I’d unfortunately grown used to the routine. He never called me over just for sex – that was beneath him. He liked to maintain the illusion that I was a lady suitable for his social standing, and so he always preluded our bedroom antics with a nice dinner at his home at the very least. He loved to go out to events that showed his money – exclusive clubs, operas, lavish parties, whatever got him into the spotlight. Surprisingly enough this continued after the Ball – he said that it wouldn’t do to give in to the terrorists by being afraid to go about our lives. And so I continued to dress myself up very prettily in silks and laces, continued to paint my body, and continued to be unwrapped at the end of the evening like an obscene gift to a spoiled child.

As for the Sicarii, I didn’t even have to wait a whole week before I got my first visit – lucky me. I know, I don’t deserve all this happiness . . .

“Hello, Miriam,” I was greeted one evening after work by a strange voice.

After I landed back on the ground I asked who the person was that was stretched out on my couch, my television remote in his hand.

“I’m Jonathan. I’m your contact.”

“Yippee.” I put my purse in its usual place and poured some water for myself.

“So, what’s the story, morning glory?” He grinned at me like we were best friends.

“What do you want to know?” We were speaking in English, mine with my normal slight Southern drawl, his with a proper British accent.

“Let’s start with the Ministry. What are they saying about current events?”

“From what I’ve seen, the Gestapo is on the move trying to find your headquarters.” I drained my water and refilled. “They’ve brought in the big guns and are looking into every home in Berlin for traitors. I also overheard that they’ve got people in the sewers, even.”

“Hm,” Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “What else?”

“They’re still working on the weird guy who took out the Spanish ambassador a while back.” My stomach twisted. “They think he’s part of the Sicarii because they figure he’s too skilled to be a lone vigilante.”

“What have they got on him? Anything interesting?”

“They have a tape they keep going over, according to Erich. He says they’ve got some scientists examining it now, trying to figure out how he got past the doors.”

This visibly shook Jonathan, who dropped his feet back to my carpeting and leaned forward. “They’ve got video of that?”

“Is he one of yours?”

“I do the questions, love.” He leaned back again. “What exactly is on that tape? I want every detail you know, no matter how small.”

I took a deep breath and blinked, trying to remember everything I’d been told while sorting apart the things I already knew of Nightcrawler. If he and they weren’t allies I didn’t want to give them any ammo. “He doesn’t look human, although he’s upright and sporting the correct number of limbs, one one rather functional tail. He’s very dark in color, but they can’t tell what shade exactly because it’s in black and white. He carries swords. I don’t know what you’d call it,” ,yeah right, “but there are at least two times when he does some kind of magic trick.”

“What trick?” My visitor was frowning.

“He’s there one minute, then some kind of gas appears and he’s gone, then the gas again someplace else with him in the middle of it. They’re stumped because the first time it shows up it could be slight of hand, but the second time he does it he goes from one side of a bolted titanium door to the other side without the doors opening.”

“They never opened?”

“Not until security showed up with the police and unlocked it with the master key. Apparently it was still magnetically sealed.”

“Well, that’s certainly something, isn’t it?” he mused absently. “Back to the late Chancellor, though . . .”

“Nothing else for me to tell there. It’s all classified, and I’m not good enough to handle those memos.”

“Got anything on security measures for the new bloke?”

I went on to tell him everything else I’d heard, glad when he’d finally picked my brain clean and decided it was time to leave. He told me he’d see me next week at the same time, then he left my apartment.

I rubbed the back of my neck again, which was still sore from the injection. Then I locked my front door and headed off to take a bubble bath in the hopes of unwinding.

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Berlin was burning.

Further downtown, where the slums and ghettos were, the nighttime sky was an angry shade of red as the buildings there were set alight. I could see it from my windows and I stood there watching the fires spread while the newscasters narrated the pogrom as though it were a match of football. According to the television, the concerned citizens were trying to flush out Sicarii members and sympathizers and innocent Jews had nothing to worry about. I knew it couldn’t be further from the truth; our blood was proof of guilt, no matter what the alleged crime might be.

As time passed the fires and mobs spread to areas further uptown and I began to worry when the reporter said that they’d been sighted within fifteen blocks of my apartment building. I could see that the blaze was indeed creeping closer but there was nowhere I could go. It was past the Jewish curfew and approaching that for citizens. Perhaps I’d be okay if I turned out all my lights now, drew my shades, and pretended no one was home.

They arrived within the half-hour, diminished in size from what it had been before but still large enough of a crowd that everyone was huddling inside. I heard some glass shatter across the street, heard angry voices taunting for the Jews to come out to play, and hoped that they’d pass me by. But I wasn’t so lucky – one of my windows shattered and something heavy landed with a thud in my living room. Oh God, what if it was a Molotov cocktail??

I breathed a very audible sigh of relief when I saw that it was just a brick with a note tied around it. Just a brick? Heh . . . could be some other nasty surprise. I didn’t hear anything ticking, so I carefully untied the twine and unwrapped the brick. A slur not worth repeating was scrawled across the paper in a hasty hand and I shrugged. Then I saw the cassette tape.

It was of a popular musician, or that’s what the liner claimed. The tape within was factory stamped with the same artist and album, and fully re-wound. My brow scrunched up in confusion – who the Hell terrorized people with love songs?? I waited until the rabble-rousers had moved on and disbanded, then I popped the tape into my player and sat down to listen.

“What in the world . . .?” I looked around my apartment in exasperated curiosity. The tape was on the third song now, flowing just as the program said it should. And then it happened, just after the second stanza of the fourth song. A break in the tape where someone had cut in to record over it.

“Hello, Beth! What’s the good word?” Erich’s cheerful voice reached my ears. If it was meant to get my attention it worked very well. I leaned forward in the armchair as I focused on the recorded conversation.

“Absolutely fascinating stuff,” Elizabeth’s voice answered. “I’ve finally gotten all of the reports you requested.”

“Yes, and?” Erich’s voice clearly revealed his eager anticipation.

“Charleston, South Carolina,” Elizabeth read off. “Two SS found murdered in an alleyway in the ghettos. One dead from apparent sword wounds, the other decapitated. No sign of weapons used on the decapitated officer.”

“Keep going.” Erich’s voice was more somber and yet more interested now.

I listened with a trembling nervousness.

“New Berlin. Reported burglary by two parties, a young girl and a monster. Girl is described as petite, very long curly brown hair, brown eyes, possible tattoo on left arm. Monster is described as human sized, blue, hairy, yellow eyes, has tail. Creature is reported to have moved so quickly it could not be seen in transit. Victims smelled of sulfur and brimstone when found.”

I felt like I was going to pass out. I gasped for air as I kept listening.

“Next?” Erich asked.

Elizabeth supplied, “Rural Virginia. Farmer reports the theft of foodstuffs including ham hocks and eggs. No sighting of perpetrator, but the lingering smell of sulfur and brimstone in barn is noted.” The sound of shuffling papers was caught on the tape as well, then, “New York. Farmer reports to passing SS sighting of young girl and unknown creature. Girl is described as young, long brown hair, etcetera.”

“And the unknown creature?”

“Not a big surprise. Dark in color, tail, yellow eyes. This was the last reported sighting of the creature and Miriam together.”

“But there’s more on the creature?” Erich’s voice was hopeful. He was not to be disappointed.

“Days after you purchased Miriam the guards in Westchester reported the abduction of another prisoner who was caught red-handed with refugees and incarcerated. Sulfur and brimstone were smelled near the kitchens and a boxcar on the rails absolutely reeked of the stench. But wait for it, it gets more intriguing.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm-hmm . . . Our fleet off the Gulf of Cadiz detects a rebel vessel and opens fire. Rather than run back to open waters the vessel moves closer to land before being sunk. No bodies were recovered. That one’s purely circumstantial, as there is no sighting and nothing found with the smell. But then we get the late Ambassador in Madrid . . .”

“It’s in Europe,” Erich’s voice was crisp. “Where is it heading? Any reports?”

“Here and there. A ferry checkpoint on the Duero detained a family trying to cross and was attacked by something that moved too quickly to be seen. Whatever it was looked deep blue, flashes of gold were seen, and several explosive bursts produced blue-tinged clouds that smelt of—“

“—sulfur and brimstone,” Erich finished with her.

“Yes,” Elizabeth sighed. “Whatever this thing is was seen during the raid in Munster, as well. Many SS were found with sword wounds, and the backup forces reported seeing a creature matching its description appear on a nearby rooftop from out of thin air. It disappeared when they started shooting at it.”

Erich sighed tiredly into the phone. “Great. So the Sicarii have got some kind of supernatural assassin working for them. If it really moves the way these sightings make it sound like, we’re going to have a very hard time catching it.”

“Now, now . . . take heart, little brother.”

I didn’t think it was possible for me to go any more tense than I had become by this point, but that was a clincher. It explained a lot of things, all of a sudden, if they were siblings . . .

“There is light at the end of this tunnel. The forensic team that was sent in to clean up the scene of the raid checked out the rooftop that the creature fled to. They found a sample of blue flesh, with blue fur, and what was later confirmed at the laboratories as blood.”

The line was silent for a heartbeat before Erich replied thoughtfully, “And if it bleeds, we can kill it. Did she tell you anything about her little boyfriend back home?”

“She’s very closed about him. She claimed his name is Nicholas Cruxhaven. It’s all she gave, and it’s probably a fake name.”

“Of course it is. It’s too close to Night Crawler in English for it to not be.”

“Do you think Night Crawler is fictitious?”

“No, she said it in her sleep. It might be a code name, but this thing must answer to it at least part of the time. And it’s heading here to reclaim Miriam—“

The tape cut back in, the sickly sweet words of love and devotion magnifying my unease precisely because it was so “normal” after receiving this bombshell. I shut off the tape player and went to make a cup of tea to calm down, but I was shaking so badly that I dropped the mug and sent it shattering on the floor. I left it there and sank down to my knees, sobbing as the light at the end of my tunnel faded from sight.