X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

"What?" I asked into the thin air. I was polishing my swords while I took my watch. After the incident at the ferry Suleiman decided it was best to go a bit out of our way and bypass the upcoming safe house.

"Erm," he cleared his throat. "I'm not bothering you, Mister Nightcrawler?"

"I don't have rank on you, Ricky. Or is it Rick?" I gestured for him to step forward.

"Rick's fine." He stood next to me and watched me tend to my weapons. "I owe you for wot happened in Madrid."

I looked over at Rick. "We're even. You took me to Gabriel, after all."

"Under coercion. I still owe you," he insisted.

"Does your friend agree on that?" I already had a good guess on it.

"He won't admit it." Rick shrugged.

"So the answer is No." I smiled wryly. "It's okay. Not like you asked, nicht wahr [not true]?"

"Ah, no, I don't suppose so." He shifted his weight between feet before talking again. "I guess I'll be shufflin' off to bed now. Just wanted to let you know that."

I nodded as he walked away, "Just don't do anything stupid."

"I don't plan on it."

I sighed and looked through the grass and across the plain. No one else was in sight, which was good. I was just starting to relax a bit when Magdalena came to my corner of the camp to talk.

"She's finally asleep, huh?"

"Finally," I nodded. "I was starting to think I had a new permanent growth."

"You don't like kids?"

"They're too much hassle for a bachelor assassin."

"Too bad. I think she's rather taken with you."

"Erstauntlich [Marvelous]."

"This is so beautiful," she sighed softly as she looked across the landscape. "I've never seen this before."

I nodded my agreement on both points but said nothing.

"Have you ever been across Europe before?" she asked.

"If you could call it that. Besides, I thought you already knew that." Dammit, I could already feel my muscles tensing. So much for a nice, relaxing watch.

"I wasn't told details, and I can't talk to the Metatron." She shrugged apologetically. "Now, Suzanne on the other hand--"

"Yeah, what was that earlier?" I interrupted.

"Who, the Metatron? She is the voice of God and the guardian of the Source."

I smiled patiently, waiting for her to continue. tooktook the hint.

"Few people have ever seen the Metatron and fewer still have understanding of what the Source is really like. But they are understood to be the voice of God, and God itself, among the Sicarii priesthood."

"What God wants, God gets, God help us all," I muttered. Zealots . . .

"What?" She pretended she hadn't heard me.

"Nothing," I lied. "This Suzanne girl, she can talk to the Source?"

"Something like that," she answered slowly. "I'm not really sure. She has a gift for clairvoyance and that makes her more receptive to working with Metatron. She is in training for the inner circle, the ones who study the Source."

"And you aren't."

"No, and I'm glad." Magdalena's voice was worried. "There will be more loss before we reach Berlin, according to Suz. Something about debts repaid, and debts taken on."

"Cryptic and worthless," I dismissed the strange girl's prophecy.

"I hope you're right," she sighed and got up to go back to camp.

A few hours later I was relieved by Marcos. As I walked to my bedroll and the small bundle sleeping there I passed the Bilge Rats, Peter and Rick. My eyes lingered on Rick's sleeping form as the somber words Magdalena spoke earlier came back to me.

"Nein," I shook my head and bedded down. It was absolutely ridiculous; it meant nothing.

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We continued on througain,ain, passing through Valladolid and then North-East to Burgos and past the Ebra River where we began to navigate through the mountains. Vitoria and Pamplona were thankfully without major incident and then we began the arduous task of crossing the Pyrenees and the Spanish/French border. We came out near Bayonne and rested in the safe house there for two days. Then it was on the road again, where we picked up some more refugees in Bordeaux. Aude and Eulalie were sisters whose parents had been executed as suspected Sicarii sympathizers, while Remi was an escapee from the area work camp. Together we made our way across the country and despite my interest in seeing how things were under a different dictator's rule, it all began to blur together after a while. Limoges, Bourges, Orleans, even Paris couldn't really hold my interest. Being there began to annoy me, actually, especially when the priesthood wanted to meet me. I hate the clergy to begin with and when they took that much interest I instinctively became twitchy. The high point of it all was when Emiliana was finally taken off my hands.

Ever since the night outside of Segovia, she'd never strayed from my side for more than five minutes – and that was usually for the necessities of hygiene. She ate with me. She threw impressive tantrums if asked to move her sleeping bag away frone one or, when we were indoors, to sleep in another room. For the first few days she was very quiet and I thought I had at least that for a reprieve but it didn't last. She began to talk to me endlessly through Magdalena or anyone else nearby who knew both our languages. And my God, did that girl have a lot of questions . . . She overheard Magda and Suz talking about where I'd come from, and why did they think I was from another planet? Why do my eyes glow? Does everything look yellow to me? Am I fuzzy on the inside too?

But the best one, the one that got the attention of the Sicarii priesthood, was when she asked why the Devil is so beautiful but God's angels are not. It didn't matter that I kept telling her I wasn't an angel or a demon or anything else, she insisted I was an angel because I could do magic. An aging priestess named Yvette took the time to talk with Emiliana about that and anything else the girl wanted to discuss and told her that she was a very special girl and they would like to be her friends.

"But the angel will stay with us, won't he?" she'd asked hopefully, her little face falling when they told her that I had to keep going while she stayed there. In the end I buckled and told her that the next time I was in Paris I'd come and see her. Thus placated, she gave me one last big hug and a kiss on my cheek before she sniffled and watched me leave with the rest of the party.

"You miss her, admit it," Magdalena smiled at me after we were done passing through Lille and approaching the Belgium border.

"Like a hole in the head," I answered tartly.

Peter and Rick were passing us and Peter threw out, "Ah, good, so you’re not a paedophile, then."

"Don't be an asshole," Rick sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Wot?" He grinned at me. "You gotta wonder, wot with the gel always sleepin' next to him an'." ."

"Ugh," Magda shook her head and moved on, "you guys. . ."

"I prefer women," I retorted softly after she was out of earshot. "Just ask your mother."

"You son of a--"

He was on the ground before he could finish drawing his daggers, gasping for air from under my fingers. "A word to the wise, boy: don't shoot off your mouth unless you can save your own ass."

"What's going on here?" Suleiman's voice held an ominous note of warning, his eyes smoldering.

"Nightcrawler's just teaching us some techniques," Rick explained with a straight face. "Everything's fine."

Suleiman's eyes narrowed but he said nothing more before he moved on to speak with the refugees about something. I let Peter up, his daggers held aloft by my tail.

"Ruddy psychotic fookin' freak . . ." he muttered, rubbing his neck.

I smirked at him while Rick told him to not provoke me further. "You'd do well to listen to your friend." I tossed his daggers back to him, hiding that I was impressed that he caught them deftly. He had potential . . .

"C'mon, mate, let's go," Rick dragged Peter along behind him.

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It took us just over three weeks to pass through Belgium. We entered near Tournai and our route after that took us past Ath, Soignies, and Halle before we stopped to visit the Cabal in Brussels. We stayed long enough to replenish our stores of supplies and receive quick medical check-ups from the clergy. Everyone was fine other than the two new arrivals, Celeste and Adeline. They'd been street urchins competing with the Sicarii until they were found out and struck a bargain to barter work for passage to Russia. The eldest of the two was in her mid-teens and her friend was in her early teens; and despite their raggedy appearance they earned the attention of the two boys who'd been with us since Spain. Actually, both Peter and Rick seemed interested in Adeline but when it became clear somewhere around Tongereu that she was only interested in Rick, Peter shifted his attentions to Celeste. It wasn't until Tiago said something at dinner one afternoon that I realized the kids weren't spending as much time together as they normally did – in fact, they seemed to be staying away from one another.

"I've been preoccupied with other things." I shrugged and took another bite of beef jerky. I commented to myself absently that if I never had to eat another piece of the stuff again in my life that was fine.

"We've noticed. It's your errand, isn't it?" Lucinda offered me a piece of her apple after sharing with her other half.

"Ja," I admitted. I'd been trying to not think about how long it was taking to get to Berlin. So far we'd been on the road for almost three months. Depending on how quickly we continued on we might not get to Berlin for another month. Miriam alone for four months with someone who disposes of--

I wasn't going to think about it. I'd go crazy if I did.

"Nightcrawler?" Lucinda was leaning over to look in my face, her eyes wide in concern. "What's wrong?"

"This is taking too long." I'd lost my appetite and was now so tense with worry that I feared the loss of appetite might become retroactive. "I'm sorry, but I need to be alone right now."

I got up and left quickly, my tail twitching behind me as I moved. In talking throughout the journey with the other members of the Sicarii I'd asked if any of them had heard of Miriam Shaham or caught any gossip about what Erich Heidelmann was up to lately. I'd been told that as tempting a target as Heidelmann was, they didn't pay attention to his dolls because they were usually stupid by design. No one knew anything about her until I went to Suzanne in desperation, willing to overcome my unease around her to ask her to use her gifts.

"She is alive. But when she is finally free, you may wish she had died."

That didn't help my nerves any.

We passed through Liege, Verviers, and Eupen before hitting the border into Germany. I'd long since memorized our route and the location of each scheduled stop and I was counting them now with a growing sense of concern that was beginning to scare me. I'd never cared about anything or anyone so much before and I couldn't comprehend what I'd do if I got there only to find that she'd been wiped from the memory of everyone on the planet except for myself. The insanity that LeBeau had always claimed must run in my family would probably break loose . . . and that was yet another thing I didn't want to think about.

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There were twelve major cities on the agenda before finally arriving in Berlin once we hit the border. Suleiman knew I was in a hurry and was pushing everyone as hard as they could, but I was increasingly agitated as the days passed anyway. Magda insisted on my submission to back rubs every night in an effort to calm me down.

"Why do you bother?" I sighed and peeled off my shirt again. "You yourself said I'm just as tense the next day anyway."

"You need the physical contact," she said quietly, warming the sage-scented oil between her palms. "Besides, doesn't it help for at least a few hours?"

I didn't answer, I just sat there on the bed and let her work. She sighed in resignation and began working, focusing as always on my shoulders and upper back. I glanced at the clock forty-five minutes later and realized just how much effort she must put in every day on this.

"Yes, that's about right," she answered when I asked if it usually took her this long to loosen all the knots. Her hands stopped but rested flat against my back. "Allah," she breathed, "you don't even notice, do you? What has you so worried, Nightcrawler? What's in Berlin?"

"Everything." I sighed, suddenly feeling much older than my years. I closed my eyes and just sat there, unmoving even when she slowly slid her hands down my back and around my sides so that her palms rested on my stomach. I let her hold me like this for a while, admitting deep inside that the contact was soothing. I didn't stop her when she placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder, then another, her fingers lightly moving with the grain of my fur. I brought my hands to hers, my fingers tracing over hers as she continued petting me. "Magdalena," I whispered roughly when she kissed me again, this time on my neck.

"Nightcrawler?" Her voice was melodic in my ear, her breath warming my skin in a very enticing way.

"No." I pulled her hands apart and away from my body. "This isn't right . . ." I couldn't help thinking about what Miriam must feel each time she was taken advantage of, as she surely must have been by now. I wasn't going to inflict that on Magdalena.

"It is my charge to care for you." She reached out to touch my arm.

"Not like this. Not when its orders." I felt my throat closing on me. I'd heard of this sort of thing happening before but never connected it to any right I had as a Sicarii assassin.

"I was not ordered to do this," her voice was soft but steady. "It is my choice to look after you in whatever way is necessary. No one forces any priestess to do this."

"And you think I need you in this way?" I managed. "It's not you I want, Magda."

"I know," she whispered. "She's in Berlin, the woman you ask about everywhere we stop. I know." She'd moved across the room to me and begun petting my shoulder. "But you're no good to anyone like this, Nightcrawler. You need to get this out of your system one way or another."

My breathing seemed to be coming in shivering gasps as I struggled with my desire to give in. It was so tempting, what she offered, and with each second that passed, each caress she lavished on me, each touch of her lips on my skin I broke down a little more until I finally turned around, pulled her to me, and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss as she wrapped her arms around me, her fingers playing in my hair. I rubbed her back through the fabric of her tunic before lifting it over her head and my system received a pleasant shock at seeing that she had a corset on under that. I bowed my head and kissed her shoulders, trailing my lips down over her until I reached the swell of her breasts. She sighed and drew me down to her, lightly scratching my neck as I worshipped her body. She tugged at my trousers; I relieved her of her skirt and began to unlace the corset. We kissed again and my tail curled possessively around leg,leg, shifting around her as I laid her on the bed we’d occupied in a more innocent way minutes before. I trailed my hands over her and she whimpered when I cupped her breasts in my hands and suckled at one nipple, then the other. She slid her touch down to explore my anatomy and I groaned as she caressed me expertly; I licked and nibbled at her flesh as I delved into her with my tail. She gasped my name as she closed her eyes and I smiled, reaching down to manipulate her further. I felt her growing more aroused and set about devouring her neck.

“Nightcrawler,” she gasped again, gently pushing me up. She traced over my eyebrows and down my jaw line as she gazed at me. “Let me take care of you,” she whispered, moving so that she was on top of me as I reclined. Her hands and mouth delighted me, especially when she focused on one particular area, and I fought for air as she took very good care of me. It had actually been so long since I’d had this that I thought I’d lose control as soon as her mouth closed over me. She compensated for this though, changing her tactics and contact when I came too close until she decided I was ready to come. She maintained her touch as I did so: swallowing me, kissing me, stroking me before laying beside me to pet me once more. I covered her in grateful kisses as I held her and then, when my head was no longer swimming, I rolled her over onto her back and lavished similar attention upon her. She moaned softly as I tasted her, my fingers sliding inside her to massage that special spot a woman has. I swept my tail over her body, tickling and teasing as I worked, until I felt her muscles twitching as she began to lose control. I kissed my way back up her body, slid into her, and closed my eyes as she wrapped herself around me. Her hips came up to meet mine and we kept that rhythm for many long minutes before I finished with her. The tail got involved again, teasing her back to the edge and then over it, and me with her until we collapsed into a spent, sweaty tangle of limbs. She nuzzled against me, I squeezed her, and we both fell asleep with no further words between us.

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After Aachen we headed for Cologne, where we had arrangements for a friendly ferry up the river. As a result the trip past Düsseldorf, Duisburg, Essen, and Dortmund would shave two weeks off compared to hoofing it. Magdalena offered herself to me again after that day in Aachen but I refused each advance. I didn't say anything to the effect but after it was over and I woke up next to her I felt worse than I did beforehand. Yes, losing myself in her allowed me to decompress for a while, to stop thinking about the things that had been plaguing my mind for months now, but it all came right back in force. Adding to that was that I felt like I'd cheated on Miriam somehow. I tried to rationalize it away, telling myself that she and I had never made any commitments to each other, that what happened didn't matter because we both admitted up front that it was just sex, but I couldn't convince myself of it. And rather than let her touch me again in even the most innocent way, I kept my distance and withdrew into myself.

Things were going well for us as a group until we hit Munster three days after getting off the ferry in Dortmund. The safe house we were supposed to stay in didn't live up to its name. It came as a surprise to almost all of us – it was only when we rounded the corner onto the street that Suzanne tried frantically to tell us we had to turn back.

"There's nowhere else to go," Suleiman said patiently. "It's ten minutes from dawn; we can't be seen on the streets, Suz."

"Our problems will be compounded if we go to the house," she insisted to no avail. “We must find other shelter.”

l gol go first,” I offered, but Magda grabbed my arm suddenly.

“No! You’re too valuable, stay in the back,” she whispered, her face drained of all color.

My instincts were bristling again so I did as she asked, moving to the back of the group as Suleiman knocked and gave the code words. The bolts slid open and we began to file in . . . then all Hell broke loose. The house had been infiltrated, the host obviously persuaded to let us in so the SS could cut us down more quickly.

Bullets flew in seemingly every direction as the Sicarii opened fire on the cops. The priestesses were trying to extract the refugees while the rest of us fought back in whatever ways we could. Ramon and Marcos were packing heat and aiming for anything in a uniform. As I drew my swords and teleported into the fray I caught a glimpse of Rick slicing through the tendons of one man’s heels, sending him to the floor in surprise that allowed Peter to knife him in the chest. Suleiman was nowhere to be seen; I figured he’d fallen as the first rounds cut through the air. I did what I do best, taking down as many of them as quickly as I could . . . bamf, tail, jump down and run another through, sheisse dropped a sword, let go with tail grab a head port again . . . “Nightcrawler! Behind you!” someone shouted. I felt someone bump into me and looked around quickly, saw nothing by way of threat, and kept fighting.

Minutes later the front entrance hall to the house was littered with blood, tissue, and bodies. Sirens were already wailing onto the curbs – more had been notified. They must have known our ETA. They didn’t bother trying to cut us down. Instead the windows shattered as a metal canister was thrown inside, bursting upon impact and choking us with poisoned gas.

“Got to get out!” Ramon tried to shout in his shaky English, barely carrying because he was coughing so badly. He and Marcos stumbled out into the street and the waiting officers, who gunned them down as they hit the pavement. My lungs burned and my eyes felt like they’d melt out of my skull as I held my breath and tried to find survivors to ‘port out. Rick was on the ground, immobile, as was Suleiman, I now saw. Peter was choking as he tried to stay low to the ground, hoping for cleaner air there. I wordlessly bamfed over, grabbed him, and moved us to momentary safety.

“Dort [There]! Herauf dort das Dach [Up there, the roof]! Schiessen Sie sie [Shoot them]!” came the orders.

Efficient as always, they opened fire on us and got a hit. I bit back a cry as I felt my arm rip open then heaved in a lungful of clear air before moving us again, and again, and again until we were a kilometer and a half or so away.

“Got to go back, get the others,” Peter managed before vomiting from the travel.

“Too dangerous.” My eyes were watering badly and my lungs still felte a e a cat was using them as a scratching post. “We won’t make it.”

“We have to!” Peter persisted. “If they see those sigils, the whole bleedin’ ghetto’ll be exterminated for retribution. Seen it happen before.”

“I said no,” I rasped, ripping away half my shirt for an emergency tourniquet. “I’m not sure I can even get them all after that, and there’s no saving the dead.” I knotted the cloth with my teeth and my good arm.

“Ricky is still alive!”

“We have to find the refugees,” I tried to change the subject, spying out over the rooftop for any sign of them or the trouble that might be following them.

“You goddamned soddin’ Kraut! Did you hear wot I said??” Peter stomped over and shoved me in the chest. “While you’re lookin’ for those sods when they’ve already got help, you’re killin’ thousands of innocent people!”

“And do you really think they won’t think this is Sicarii, bodies or not?” I retorted rationally. “Only the stupidest of people would travel in such a large group without hired protection. You know that.”

“He’s still alive,” he repeated in a more subdued tone. “We can’t just leave him to die.”

My conscience nagged at me and I relented, taking hold of Peter again to go back. “Why do you care anyway? I thought you two hated each other now.”

“He’s me only family I got left,” he answered between ‘ports. “You don’t just let that go.”

I was lightheaded from exhaustion and blood loss by the time we got back to the safe house, which was now on fire. Peter was shaking, but if it was from more teleporting or from emotion I couldn’t tell.

“Wait here,” I instructed and crawled down the walls. I noted absently that the police had left and the bodies were gone, probably off to the city morgue for examination. I didn’t expect to find Rick inside but I went in anyway, slinking along the ground to avoid the thick smoke. I found him on the ground where we’d left him, his mouth open and leaking blood and his eyes glassy and staring at nothing in front of him. I took him under my good arm and headed back out, managing somehow to climb back up with him in tow. Peter said nothing when he saw his kin lying in my arms, he just swallowed hard and headed for the fire escape.

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The boys had made this run before and learned where to go for help when things fucked up; and while the doctor’s eyes never got smaller than saucers the whole time he worked on my arm he was willing to keep his mouth shut for the right amount of money. He’d also examined Rick’s body and pronounced that he’d died of cyanide poisoning – he’d suffocated to death.

Peter still wasn’t talking to me when we left Rick’s grave. We’d carried him into the countryside between Munster and Osnabruck and buried him without ceremony, moving on as soon as we were done to reach the next stop. Still using the emergency procedures, Peter secured a room in a tavern in Osnabruck that we could stay in as long as our few remaining Marks lasted. A traveling musician was passing through the same time we were and while I stayed upstairs out of prudence Peter headed to the tap room to find out whatever information the bard could provide.

“The others are in hiding in Hannover, waitin’ for us,” Peter informed me as he walked in. It was the only thing he said to me the rest of the journey to the tow town.

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“Oh, thank Allah you’re alright!!” Magdalena greeted us after Peter and I crowded into the small attic in Hannover. “What happened? Where are the others??”

“Haven’t had a chance t’read the news, gel?” Peter’s sardonic wit sliced at her as he tossed a bundle of newsprint at her head.

She blinked in surprise as he threw himself down in a far corner of the room to brood. Then she opened the paper and read the front page in shock, her right hand going to her mouth as the left held the newspaper up.

“What is it?” Remi asked, breaking his characteristic silence. The other refugees were leaning forward attentively while Suzanne looked down at the floor, weeping silently.

I’d seen the paper and didn’t need a translation for the Spanish she uttered or the French that followed. The headline proudly proclaimed in the official tongue of the Reich that rebels had been captured. The article had gone on to explain that in a glorious feat of the concerted efforts of the Gestapo and the SS, an underground stop on the refugee pipeline had been discovered and a band of dissidenad bad been intercepted as they sought to disgrace the Reich. Several bodies had been recovered, all bearing the marks of the infamous Sicarii order. And furthermore, in a splendid display of force, an example had been made out of the ghetto in Munster where all the residents were rounded up and executed. The article concluded with the optimistic sentiment that perhaps now the cowardly leaders of the Sicarii would turn themselves in and cease their terroristic activities and their crimes against the German citizenry.

“The article says only three bodies were recovered. Is someone still missing?” Magda asked when she was done spreading the news, tears welling in her eyes.

“Nein,” I sighed. “We buried Rick outside of town.”

“Oh, Peter . . . I’m so sorry . . .” Adeline’s lips trembled as she knelt beside him to lay a comforting hand on his arm.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, jerking away from her. She bit her lip and moved away.

“So, what now?” I asked Magdalena and Suzanne later, apart from the refugees.

“We keep going,” Suzanne answered. “There is nothing else to do but that.”

I nodded in agreement. We set out the next evening for Brunswick, the next scheduled stop on our original route to Siberia.

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Peter finally decided to speak to me again as we were coming up on Magdeburg. His face was grim and his tone decidedly cold.

“He died because of you,” he started without preamble.

I could have protested that, but I knew it would do no good. And besides, there was no way of knowing if the extra minutes would have made a difference. Perhaps Rick would have died from his injuries instead of cyanide if we’d gotten to him sooner, or perhaps he would have survived. It didn’t matter though because Peter would likely always think me responsible for his brother’s death.

“Bloody fool thought he owed you for somethin’ y’know,” he continued, staring straight ahead. “You would have got your own sword in the back if he hadn’t jumped in front of it.”

Frost touched my blood as I recalled the hasty warning and the impact shortly after. Debts repaid . . . so what was the debt to be taken on?

“I’ll give you that you probably couldn’t have got the others. Jumpin’ round like a monkey takes it a yoa you, eh?”

“I’ve never tested the hypothesis, but it could probably kill me if I did it enough.” I kept my gaze ahead of us as well.

“Your priestess told me you ain’t really talkin’ to her much these days.”

“That’s none of your business.” My blood warmed back up almost to boiling. What the Hell was she doing talking to a kid about anything that went on between us??

“She didn’t tell me you buggered her, if that’s what your thinkin’. Figured that out on me own.”

I saw him smirk in my peripheral vision.

“But she did say that she’s concerned about you. Beats me as to why – your a right bastard, you know that?”

“Does this conversation have a point?” I growled.

“Aye, it does. We all know your in this for the wrong reasons, mate. Your just doin’ this to get to some gel in Berlin. Lookin’ after these people is secondary to you.”

“I’m doing my job and doing it well. What problem do you have with that?”

Peter stopped walking and stayed put until I backed up to stand next to him. “Your priorities need some work. That’s why your gonna take me on as your apprentice.”

“You’re crazy,” I snorted. “You’re so annoying I’d have to kill you within the first week.”

“Feelin’s mutual. Think I came to this decision with a smile on me face?”

“You decided to be my apprentice.” I leveled a stare at him. “What in the Hell for?”

“Cause you owe me. Me little brother’s rottin’ in a grave partways ‘cause of you. An’ if I’m gonna learn how to cut down those Nazi pigs as repayment for it, I’m set on learnin’ from the best there is.”

I took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and started walking again. “What makes you think I’ll take you on?”

“I’ll bother the Hell outta you for the rest of your days one way or another. May as well do somethin’ productive with it, I say.”

Magdeburg and Potsdam passed by with barely any notice from myself because I was too absorbed in thinking about my new set of problemsdleddled up in a teenage boy. By the time I set my bag down on my pallet in the Berlin Cabal I’d finally resigned myself to the fact that I now had an apprentice to look after and mentor.

Jesus Christ, what a scary thought.

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We’d finally arrived in Berlin in mid-summer. As with all the other Reich-controlled cities I'd seen, most of the city was immaculately clean and well-ordered. Carefully tended trees and flowers lined streets laid out in precise patterns. The people moving through the city did so with purpose, obedient little automatons doing their part to support the Reich.

That was the first impression of Berlin – but like every other city Berlin would have its unsavory parts, its neighborhoods where the citizens were not necessarily decent, upstanding individuals. Such was our destination that night. Peter and I ended up at a run-down watering hole where I took a seat in a darkened back corner, nursed a stein of beer, and watched the other patrons. Most of them were engaged by a musician near the back wall who played especially well for such a location; he would be important. I had no doubts about this. The more I observed him the stronger this suspicion became. I counted the number of requests he took versus the number of papers dropped into his guitar case and smiled at the discrepancy.

“She came to me one morning, one lonely Sunday morning, her long hair flowing in the mid-winter wind . . .”

The musician sang in time with the clapping of the crowd.

“I know not how she found me, for in darkness I was walking and destruction lay around me from a fight I could not win . . .”

“Oh, aye, he’s one of ours.” Peter tore off a chunk of bread and chewed.

“You sound so certain.” I smiled. I’d already begun training him, starting off with assessing just how good his observations were. “How do you know?”

“The song’s a code.” He took a swill of beer as the chorus came.

“She asked me name my foe, then I said the need within some men to fight and kill their brothers without thought of love or God . . .”

I sat back and listened, Peter quietly pointing out the code words as they came up.

“And I begged her give me horses to trample down my enemies, so eager was my passion to devour this waste of life . . .”

“The assassins,” he explained.

“But she would not think of battle that reduces men to animals, so easy to begin and yet impossible to end. For she the mother of all men . . .”

“The Metatron,” Peter supplied.

“Who counseled me so wisely then I feared to walk alone again and asked if she would stay . . .”

The wordless chant of the chorus came up again with many of the patrons singing along.

“Oh Lady lend your hand! I cried. Oh let me rest here at your side! Have faith and trust in me she said, and filled my heart with life . . .”

“The priesthood.” My apprentice took another drink.

“There is no strength in numbers, have no such misconception, but when you need me be assured I won’t be far away . . .”

“We can call on this Metatron to aid us, then?” I asked as the chorus came once more, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye, in truly dire circumstances. Hear it’s ruddy impressive, too.”

“Thus having spoke she turned away, and though I found no words to say I stood and watched until I saw her black cloak disappear. My labor is no easier, but now I know I’m not alone – I find new heart each time I think upon that windy day . . .”

I was tapping my fingers upon the tabletop in time with the music now. I realized that the chorus could be used as a wordless rallying cry and was impressed with whoever came up with the song.

“And if one day she comes to you, drink deeply from her words so wise, take courage from her as your prize, and say hello for me . . .”

“Acknowledging the rest of us.” Peter grinned smugly. “See? Code words.”

“Good job. But what if he hadn’t sung that song?” I asked, watching his smile fade a bit.

The chorus was taken up again and repeated for several rounds, each one more spirited than the one before it.

“How would you know if he was or wasn’t friendly to us?” I pressed.

“I suppose you would know, eh?” he asked defensively.

“Actually, I did.” I went on to explain what I’d observed that he’d missed.

“Hrm.” He fished in his pockets for tobacco and fire. “I suppose that works as well.”

I silently wondered if my parents had ever wanted to strangle me during my training, too.

Hours later, as last call was announced for the stragglers in the common room, I deposited a few Marks under my stein and teleported to the back hallway behind the splintered stage where I watched the singer gather his instruments and room key. I spied his confirmed quarters – a room in the back next to the outside door – and teleported inside to wait for him. "Guten abend [Good evening]," I let my voice carry down to him from the ceiling. As expected, he was surprised.

"Who are you?" he demanded, reaching for the light switch.

"No lights," I ordered, catching his wrist easily thanks to my night vision. "I'm looking for an official named Erich Heidelmann. Where will I find him?"

The bard held his hands up so I could see them. "Let go if you want me to talk.”

I let go and waited.

"This time of night he's probably with his -ahem- lady friend." He was straightening his rumpled clothing. "Which means he could be anywhere in the city."

"Not good enough." My eyes narrowed.

"That's all you're getting until you tell me who you are and what you want with him." He was looking around for me.

"I'm Sicarii, and he is in possession of something very dear to me."

"You've got to be Nightcrawler. I've heard about you, you know . . . Let's talk like civilized men, shall we?" He reached for the light again. "We've both got her best interests at heart, after all."

I let him get the lights this time. "Whose best interests are those?" My heart was beating faster – if she'd made a friend here who was trustworthy, this was good.

"Miriam's, of course." He sat at his dressing table and smiled. "But you asked where to find them. They're probably being cultured right now. I understand he's fond of the opera, and the premier of Faust is tonight. After that they'll go someplace private, either his house or her flat."

"Addresses?" I leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed over my chest.

"Don't know hers," he got out a pen and paper, "but this is his." He held out the paper, ing ing an eyebrow when I retrieved it with my tail. "Be careful when you go after her though. Word on the wire is that inquiries have been made about the unusual-looking second party sighted with her in the States. Don't underestimate what they know about you."

I nodded my thanks and pocketed the address. It was uptown in a neighborhood that was probably as upscale here as it had been before the Berlin back home had been destroyed. If he had that much money it probably meant he had many security guards to add to his sense of safety. Getting in there could be difficult, especially if it was just me and Peter. But that wouldn’t stop me from spying and following her home.

“Actually, you’ll want to head here next,” the bard was scribbling on another piece of paper, “and talk to whoever’s on duty.” He handed this second address to me. “I’m Christopher, by the way. If you need any more information I’ll try to help you. I’m in town for the next two da

“Thank you, Christopher.” I shook hands with him when he offered, then headed out again.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“So you’re Nightcrawler.”

I smiled tautly at Klaus, noting his smirk. I was in a small room in a dingy apartment downtown, the main broadcasting station the Sicarii used when pirating the radio waves of Berlin. The man Peter and I had come to see after leaving the tavern was one of the broadcasters; he was currently running a tape of the most recent independent news so that he had a minute to talk to us.

“Who’s the kid?”

Peter bristled at this; before he could shoot his mouth off I answered, “My apprentice. What was so important that I had to come out here?”

“This.” Klaus held up a spool of tape, which he loaded a few minutes later when he was off the air. “You’ve got the Ministry of Intelligence going nuts, it seems. Too bad you’re not the lowest profile assassin we’ve ever picked up.”

I remained stoic as I listened to the intercepted telephone call. A woman was listing off to a man various sightings of me over the past months in chronological order. Peter kept his mouth shut but I could see there was a smart comment waiting behind his eyes.

“It gets better for you.” Klaus crossed his arms after the tape was finished. “One of our informants in the Ministry tells us they’ve got video of your hit in Madrid. They know exactly what you look like.”

Peter swore under his breath and started fidgeting. I sighed in resignation. I’d hoped to keep that bit to myself for a while longer, but it was bound to happen eventually.

“Who was that call between?” I asked instead.

“Erich Heidelmann and his sister.”

I drew breath slowly. Peter stopped fidgeting.

“Can you get us a copy of that tape?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, sure. I assume you want it on a more standard format.”

“Aye.” Peter nodded. Seeing my tail swishing as I raised an eyebrow at him, he barely explained, “I’ve got an idea.” He turned back to Klaus. “How long will it take?”

Klaus shrugged. “About ten minutes.”

“I’ll go light a fag while we’re waitin’, with your permission?” He barely kept his face straight.

I nodded and watched him head outside.

“Lovely at that age, aren’t they?” Klaus laughed once Peter was gone. He was already setting up the equipment.

“Makes me want to rush out and have some of my own,” I snorted.

Klaus laughed more softly as he hit record.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“How did it go?” Magda asked when we arrived back at the Cabal.

“The Ministry knows I’m here.” I shrugged.

“You look more shaken by that than I thought you might,” she said, concern in her eyes.

“Heidelmann knows I’m here.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide, as sndernderstood the implications of that. “You’ll have to find her quickly, then.” Her eyes slid to the ground before she turned to finish folding her clothing.

I watched her curiously. She almost seemed disappointed. But before I could ask her what she was so concerned for, Peter caught both our attens.
s.

“I’m gonna go find some tape decks. Have fun, kids.” He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and the tape of the conversation in his hands along with another one he’d bought in a shop on our way home.

I glanced once more at Magdalena before following him. As I was rounding the corner I very nearly ran into Suzanne, who smiled and said she’d just been coming to see me.

“What about?” I inquired.

“Hurry,” was all she said as she handed me a slip of paper. Before I could ask what it was about she’s moved on to find Magdalena. I unfolded the paper and saw an address written in a neat hand. I recognized it as being in a decent neighborhood in downtown Berlin. I threw a look back over my shoulder, shook my head, and caught up with Peter.

“What are you going to do with those?”

“Way I figure it, your little girl’s probably not in the best of spirits right now. Might cheer her up if she knows your comin’ for her.” He came to a stop in the common room after making a bee-line for the stereo setup. “Gonna borrow your radio for a bit, mate,” he nodded to the man sitting nearby, who nodded his okay. He didn’t seem fazed by me but I was beginning to notice that few people within the Sicarii did anymore. Word of me hadn’t spread just among the Reich’s intelligence community; it had spread among us as well. And I have to admit, it was nice to be able to walk around without hearing snide comments uttered when they thought I was out of earshot.

“So that other tape isn’t for you, then,” I couldn’t resist the jab.

“Nope.” He started the tapes and lit his smoke. “But it’s a good cover if it has to sit around before she hears it. And besides, she reads between the lines she’ll get two messages out of it.”

“You assume I want to send that message.” I looked away towards a piece of artwork hanging on the wall to my right.

“If I’m wrong, Magda’s back that way.” He jerkes hes head in the direction we’d come from.

I felt my face grow hot but bit my tongue. “How do you intend to get it to her?”

“Still workin’ out the kinks in that one.” He exhaled a plume of smoke. “But if the hit on the Chancellor goes through tonight there’ll likely be a bunch of gits riotin’ in the next twenty-four.” He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the master tape to click off. “Figure we can get someone to drop it off for us if we ask real nice.”

“What part of town?” the man on the couch asked, turning around. He’d been about to leave the room, it seemed.

Peter turned around just after I did. “S’cuse me?” he asked, looking like he forgot the man was there.

“What part of town do you need that delivered to?” he asked again.

I told the man the neighborhood and he smiled. “I know someone who lives out there. Get me the address and we’ll see it makes it there.”

“Danke [Thanks],” I smiled, “Where can I find you again?”

“I’ll be around. I’m off duty tonight, and I like a good show.” He gestured to the radio.

I copied down the address from the slip of paper Suz had just given me and handed it to him. He lingered for a minute while Peter rewound the disguised tape, taking it with a smile and a nod. “I’ll get this taken care of right now.” He left the room with purpose.

I crossed my arms and stared after him.

“Wot?” Peter looked me up and down, noticing what must have been a disturbed look on my face.

“Suzanne’s abilities freak me out sometimes, that’s all,” I answered quietly.

I heard Peter take a drag before he replied, “So, you the pot or the kettle?” He hummed a familiar wordless tune as he walked away to finish his smoke in peace. I shook my head and started getting ready for bed; I had a big job ahead of me later tonight.