X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

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 was to continue 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.

He was in a particularly good mood that evening as we sat down to dinner. I was not nearly so cheerful; I’d pieced together over the course of the day what the retribution for the Chancellor’s death had been. While many of the Jews ated ied in last night’s pogrom had been left alive, they’d also been left homeless. Rather than risk the consequences of being on the streets past curfew, many of them went underground to seek shelter in the sewers. There they were met by Sicarii – or who they thought were Sicarii – and gathered together in a central location that was then closed off and bricked up. If they didn’t suffocate first, they would eventually starve to death.

I was picking at my food not out of solidarity for the poor people trapped below my feet (as they must have been at some point in the day – I didn’t know exactly where under Berlin they were), but because I knew this wasn’t the end of it. There was more to this punishment . . .

“Are you not feeling well, my dear?” Erich asked me kindly after my third strained attempt at eating some of the food on my plate. “I notice your appetite has not been good these last few weeks.”

“Oh . . .” I felt my lips tremble when I tried to smile. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all. It seems like Berlin is in chaos these past few weeks and, well, I’m a little bit frightened.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “I understand, especially after what happened with your window.” He ate another forkful of vegetables, markedly more calm than I. “The repair man has already come, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, he has,” I forced down a bit of veal. My nightmares had me running for the toilet almost every morning now and I’d only begun to realize that certain foods made me feel more ill than others. Meat was one of them. I didn’t have a taste for it but taking the consequences for it seemed better than getting into a discussion about why I wasn’t hungry these days. I forced another bite and chased it with some roasted potatoes.

“That’s good. It’s barbaric for that to have happened in your neighborhood, though. Utterly appalling.”

But not at all disgraceful that it happened to any other people in the city. I stabbed another potato with my fork and felt a wicked thrill at the idea of substituting Erich for my food. If only I could get away with it . . . I envisioned stringing Erich up somewhere and borrowing one of Nightcrawler’s swords. I’d make him suffer, make him pay for being the swine in a dress suit that he was. What was it Elizabeth had said months ago? Stick it to him for every time he sticks it to me? That’s what I’d do alright, use him as a practice dummy while Nightcrawler taught me how to wield his blades. And I’d save the best part for last, really make him suffer for all he’d put me through. And when I was finally through with him it’d be time to move on to his sister . . .

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve finally regained your appetite,” Erich’s voice broke into my reverie. I looked down and saw that almost all of the food was gone now. I was trying to think of something to say when he continued in a tone of voice I’d never heard with him before, “What were you thinking about, Miriam?”

“I’m afraid I can’t repeat it in polite company.” I blushed. Even in impolite company it wasn’t generally considered good form to discuss disembowelment and castration at the dinner table.

“We’re not in polite company, Miriam,” Erich continued in a hushed tone, leaning forward to look into my eyes. “I’m captivated by the look that was in your eyes just now. It was so . . . primal. So raw. I want to know what you were thinking about.”

“I’d rather not,” I whispered, my blush deepening.

“You’re too closed to me.” Erich had moved his chair so that he was sitting next to me now. He cupped my jaw in his hand and turned my head so that I had to look over and up at him. “There is more to you than you’ve chosen to show me. I want to know you, Miriam. All of you, not just the pretty parts.”

Well, there weren’t any pretty parts that he’d not explored by this point, I reflected bitterly. But he wasn’t going to give up so I’d better come up with something quickly. “I was thinking about the monster from Madrid,” I purred, looking deeply back into his eyes.

“Oh now, why the concern?” Erich’s eyes betrayed a dangerous sort of amusement in their depths.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” I focused on matching his gaze with equal intensity, on smiling as he traced the line of my lower lip with his thumb. “That’s why all those Jews are boxed up underground, to trap it?”

“Are you afraid it will come after you?” His eyes bored into mine, something behind them shifting as the balance of power trembled under our feet, and I realized I was suddenly on terribly unstable ground.

“Why should it?” I darted my tongue out to taste his finger. “Are you worried that it’s coming for you next, Erich?”

“I’m worried that it might try to steal you away from me,” he leaned in to kiss me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his fingers rubbing lightly over the general area of my unwanted tracker. “But I won’t let that happen,” he whispered into my ear with a cool confidence that had me suppressing a shiver. “Do you know why that is, Miriam?”

“Why?” I whispered back, heart racing with sudden fear.

“Because as lenient as I have been with you, you are still my property. And I am intensely possessive of my belongings.” He moved back to look me in the eyes again, his hand still on the back of my neck, his lips less than a centimeter from mine. I decided that the calculating gleam in his eyes wasn’t a good sign. “And I would kill before I let anyone steal away with you.” Erich slid away, a sly smile on faceface, when his butler appeared discreetly at the dining room door. Erich’s icy façade melted and he gestured for the man to clear our places so desert could be brought out. “I understand that we’ve got a strawberry tart waiting for us tonight. You like strawberries, don’t you, Miriam?” He sipped some wine and smiled genially at me.

“Strawberries are nice.” I licked my lips and took a long pull of alcohol from my own glass.

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I was sick again that night, the food I’d wolfed down earlier too much for my body to handle. As my insides tried to escape my body I considered that I might do well to arrange for a doctor’s visit to make sure nothing was physically wrong with me and make sure it was just stress. I began ticking off possible diseases and ailments as I brushed my teeth. Could be food poisoning – but for three weeks straight? If it were I’d probably be dead now. If I were ill with something, I’d probably have other symptoms with the vomiting. But what if I was –

The sudden explosion and scent of sulfur in the air had me spinning around and running to the living room faster than I thought I could possibly move. My heart skipped a beat when I realized I wasn’t hallucinating.

He was here.

Nightcrawler was finally here.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay!!” I fairly leapt up to embrace him, my emotions in a flux between laughing with joy and weeping at the bitter irony of the circumstances. For now, I was going to go with the joy.

“Das Gefuehl ist gegenseitig, liebchen [The feeling is mutual, sweetheart],” he murmured in my ear, holding me so tightly that he nearly winded me.

We held each other for a long moment during which I enjoyed the feel of his arms around me and his tail moving against my back, the pointed tip playing in my hair. I nuzzled against him, my cheek rubbing against his, a velvety touch I’d sorely missed. He nuzzled me in return, his breath and lips warm against my neck and just below my ear.

“I’m truly surprised,” came the quiet voice with the coarse British accent once we’d stopped hugging. “I knew you had a soft spot for her, but I didn’t think it was that soft.”

I’d seen the boy when I’d come into the living room but had ignored him in favor of greeting Nightcrawler. Now I looked him over, wondering who he was. He was young but had eyes that were far too old for him – they were hazel and edged in razors. His brown hair was disheveled, his clothes a little tattered and stained in several places. He stoith ith one arm crossed across his chest, the other up so that his fingers were curled loosely and against his mouth now that he was done speaking. I noticed the assortment of daggers sheathed on his belt and wondered if he were old enough to know how to use them properly.

“Contrary to the opinions of many, I am not an inhuman monster,” Nightcrawler replied, his voice equally quiet.

“I didn’t say that, now, did I?” The boy smiled behind his hand, almost succeeding in hiding the growing smirk.

“Who . . . ?” I began hesitantly.

“Miriam, this is my apprentice, Peter Evans,” Nightcrawler stepped aside so we could see each other better. “Peter, this is Miriam Shaham.”

Peter and I shook hands; I noticed a flicker of surprise in Nightcrawler’s eyes at this. It was almost as though he didn’t expect the boy to be civil.

“A right pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am,” Peter nodded as he clasped my hand.

“We can talk more later,” Nightcrawler barely contained his grin. “Let’s get some of your things together and get out of here.”

My heart plummeted to my feet. I wanted so much to go with him, but the Sicarii weren’t enemies I wanted to make. “I can’t.” I winced when I saw the shock come over both their faces. “I – I’ve been marked.”

“By whom?” Nightcrawler’s voice held a dangerous note in it.

“Have yoard ard of the Sicarii?” I asked quietly.

The look that passed between Nightcrawler and Peter gave me goose bumps, it was so loaded.

“Yes, we have,” Nightcrawler finally answered. “What exactly do you mean, you’ve been marked by them?”

“She’s the informant in the Ministry.” Peter’s voice was dull, his face slack, the razor edges in his eyes dulled.

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’ve been . . .suadsuaded to provide information to one of their spies. They implanted me with a tracker so that they know where I am all the time. They told me if I ran they’d hunt me down and kill me.”

“When did this happen?” Nightcrawler didn’t look too well either.

“Last night, when they executed the Chancellor.”

I wasn’t the only one who noticed the horrified look on Nightcrawler’s face. Peter’s eyes were hard again, his voice dripping acid when he spoke.

“That little Sidhe-spawn was too vague, wasn’t she?” he spat, eyes narrowing.

“Or I’m too verdammt schwer von Begriff [damned dense],” Nightcrawler closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Did they say anything about why they chose to peg you?”

“Not really.” I laid my hand over his and squeezed his fingers. “The only thing they said was they were tipped off by someone called The Ghost.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could hear a growl come from deep in his throat.

“You’ve got that looke yke you’re about to hang someone by their entrails,” Peter pointed out. “Who’s The Ghost?”

“The Ghost is a ship, not a person,” his tail coiled behind him like a snake preparing to strike. “But I know exactly wippeipped them off. And if I ever see her again, she’d better hope that’s the least I’ll do to her for this.”

I grimaced and looked around, suddenly more uncomfortable by an order of magnitude. I’d never seen him so pissed off before and quite frankly, it was scaring me. “Um,” I cleared my throat, “does anyone else want some coffee?” God, that sounded so lame “Ay “Aye, black for me, please,” Peter answered softly.

“Maybe in a while.” Nightcrawler was obviously trying to calm himself; I let go of his hand and went to the kitchen.

I stood with my hands splayed across the countertop, dimly watching the dripping coffee fill the pot. I felt terrible; I had no idea what I’d say when I got back out there.

“I’m sorry, Miriam.” Nightcrawler’s voice was gentle when he joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I turned and saw that he’d left Peter in the other room so we could talk, the door closed behind him.

“If someone betrayed you, you have a right to be angry,” I answered from the counter.

“That’s no excuse.” He slowly moved towards me, giving me time to move away, I guess. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed raggedly and stared bleakly at the floor. “It’s so damn unfair,” I whispered. “I didn’t think you’d come all this way for me, but you have, and now I can’t . . .” I trailed off when I felt the tip of his tail gently pushing upwards on my chin, a silent plea for me to look up at him.

“Life isn’t fair, liebe [love].” His eyes were sad. “But I think we both learned that a long time ago, nicht wahr?”

My vision got blurry and I felt my lips quivering. When he reached out to brush my cheek with the backs of his fingers I leaned forward into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. As the tears spilled from my closed eyes I felt him fold me in his arms. He was quiet as I sobbed, his only answer to my grief several kisses on my brow and his hands in my hair, pettie soe soothingly. After a while I felt his tail, the unique appendage soothing me further as it rubbed along my back. I stopped crying but continued to cling to him, not wanting to let him go now that we were finally together again. And then he surprised me by barely caressing me behind one of my ears, the touch so light that I flinched. He touched me again,dingding me tight to him as I squirmed. When I thought I’d crack he slid his tail away, choosing to favor my other ear now. He chuckled and held me tighter still when I tried to shy away, laughing softly when I finally squealed that it tickled.

“Ah, now that’s more like it.” He smiled at me, his tail retreating. “If I had my way, you’d do nothing but smile like that.”

My smile remained as I looked into his eyes, my heart warming again. “You and that tail are an evil combination, mister,” I joked as I slid my right hand into his hair.

“You’re just upset that this is twice now that you’ve had to beg for mercy.” He was grinning now, his tail wagging at me in a semi-menacing way.

“Oh, you think I’m upset about that?” I felt my pulse quicken as I recalled our last tickle match. I lightly traced a fingertip over the point of his ear and down the outside edge to the lobe. His shiver wasn’t lost on me.

“Are you upset about something else?” He pulled me close again, leaning down when I slid my touch down to his neck and gently pulled him to me.

“Disappointed is more the term.” I smiled wickedly when I bypassed his kiss to move my lips to his ear. I ran my fingertips against the grain of his fur and then up into his hair, loosely coiling it between my fingers before whispering, “Shame on you for teasing me like that and then running off.”

“It’s only teasing if there’s no payoff,” he argued, his tail curling suggestively around my leg now. “But if you want me to show you what a good teasing is like . . .”

I nearly liquefied as his tenor purred and caressed my ears. “I want more than teasing from you,” I shivered, “but there are children in the house.”

“Mmm . . .” He sounded disappointed. “Later then, meine schoenen Fuechsin [my beautiful vixen].” His tail uncoiled from around my leg as he moved away a slight bit. “I promise.”

His kiss was soft and gentle, his lips lingerin min mine for a long moment before parting in response to the invitation my tongue offered. His passion and desire were evident in the way he held me and in the soft moan he emitted when I deepened the kiss even more, pressing my body into his as I ran my hands through his hair. I was moaning now too, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his hands kneading my back as his tongue slid over and around mine. I’m not sure how to describe the difference but as impassioned as that kiss was, it was nothing like anything I’d experienced with Erich. It didn’t feel vulgar or repulsive to me; it didn’t leave me feeling used or dirty or violated. Instead I felt enraptured, blissful, and somehow at peace with everything. I felt beautiful.

“Ich liebe dich [I love you],” he spoke softly when we finally broke the kiss, bowing his head so that his forehead rested against mine. His eyes were so soft, so soothing to me in that moment.

“Ich liebe dich, auch [I love you, too].” I was giddy with emotion as I voiced this simple truth. I kissed him again, softly but chastely, before slipping reluctantly from his embrace. “We ought to go back out there.” My cheeks flushed.

“I still say we should just toss him a spare pillow and blanket and tell him to watch T.V. for the rest of the night,” Nightcrawler grinned wickedly as he rummaged in my fridge for cream.

I laughed as I filled the mugs with coffee. “And Peter wouldn’t object to being discarded like that?”

“He’s a tough kid, he’ll deal.” Heraceraced me from behind, using his tail to pour cream into one of the mugs. “How do you take yours?” he asked when he was finished.

My mind veered off into an adult tangent and I choked down my laugh.

“Your coffee, you lecherous wench.” He was laughing too.

“I’ll tell you when,” I giggled, instructing him on how much to add to my mug. “And where do you get off calling me a lecherous wench when you didn’t need directions to get to the gutter my mind fell into?”

“I’ve tried to behave around you so I’ll forgive you for not knowing I have an engraved plaque down there.” He nibbled my ear.

I drew a slow breath and leaned back into him.

“I can send him home,” he offered in a throaty whisper.

“I’ll think about it,” I sighed, turning my head to glance at him. He took the opportunity to kiss me again, his hand coming up to caress my neck. I shivered and made up my mind. “There’s only one problem.” Oh? Oh? What’s that?” He released me and raised an eyebrow, picking up a mug full of coffee when I got the other two.

“I don’t know your real name.” I smiled as I set a mug down to open the kitchen door. “I think we’re past the point of pseudonyms now, don’t you?”

“You’ve got me there, liebchen,” he smiled. “My name is Kurt—“ He broke off atly tly as I opened the door into the living room, grabbing me sharply around the waist and teleporting before I could see what caused such an extreme reaction.

“What? What is it?” I breathed as we re-emerged in another part of the kitchen that would give us a clear vantage point of anyone coming in.

“That’s exactly the question we’ve been asking for some time now,” a familiar voice answered in English from the other side of the door behind the group of SS who’d rushed in, automatic rifles and handguns trained on us and ready to fire.

I grew cold before I saw Erich come into the kitchen, a sickening smirk plastered onto his face. “I’m surprised at you, Miriam. You’re so vanilla with me that I never dreamed you were into beastiality.”

Kurt’s entire body was tensed as he moved between me and Erich, his swords drawn and ready. He said nothing at first, his eyes taking in the number of adversaries in front of us.

“You’re standing between me and my property,” Erich addressed Kurt with barely contained contempt. “Step aside and I won’t order them to kill the boy.”

I exhaled sharply when I saw two more SS push their way to the front, holding Peter’s limp body in their hands. A third soldier, one of the ones already in the kitchen, drew a handgun and rested the barrel against Peter’s temple.

“Go ahead.” Kurt’s tone was similar to the one he used on me after our botched robbery attempt in the States. “He’s a pain in my ass anyway. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

“Funny. I thought the Sicarii had more loyalty to their own,” Erich’s lips twitched. He was amused by this, somehow. “You heard it. Kill him.”

I gasped when the gun went off, the bullet flying through the room and into the opposite wall. But the shot was not without its price. Peter had sprung to life and managed to somehow slice across the man’s wrist as he squeezed off the shot, sending his aim askew. The soldiers holding him were obviously surprised, more so when Peter rounded on them to knife them in their chests.

“Toeten Sie sie beide! Jetzt [Kill them both! Now]!” Erich shouted the order as he moved out of the confined space to a safer place in my amentment. “Abmshnicht das Maedchen [But not the girl]! Iuensuensche sie lebendig [I want her alive]!”

“Get down!” Kurt threw over his shoulder as he engaged the men.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I flattened myself against the floor, crawling towards the table to make myself a harder target to hit, and gaped as I saw them go to work. Peter was quick with his knives, slicing and stabbing at anything that wasn’t also wielding blades of some sort. Kurt, meanwhilas mas making himself an absurdly hard target to hit by leaping in, attempting a decapitation, landing on the counter, leaping off again in the beginning of a somersault, teleporting, coming out upside down to run someone through, bamf again, almost upright as he cut off a man’s arm to protect Peter, bamf, grab someone round the neck with his tail, bamf, one body minus a head hits the floor. A soldier swore loudly as he hit the ground after Peteverevered his Achilles tendons, Kurt tag-teaming by landing on him and planting a sword through his heart. Peter returned the favor by slitting a man’s throat from behind, Kurt’s gone again to impale someone else on his swords.

I suddenly realized why all the Reich was in a panic over Kurt’s presence among them. As he finished cutting down the SS around us I realized he was now every inch the demon he looked, a creature dispatched from the deepest pits of Hell to send men to quick but painful deaths. The whole fight haken ken what I guessed was one minute, two tops. Peter and Kurt were both breathing hard from the exertion, a half dozen dead men pooling blood at their feet. I shakily crawled partway out from my she to to relieve the severed arm nearby of its firearm, setting the safety and tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. Before I was done prying the gun from the still-warm fingers Kurt was heading towards the living room, presumably to go after Erich. Peter glanced back at me and, seeing I was unhurt, hurried after him. I was on his heels, entirely surprised by Kurt’s reaction now that Erich was quite literally in his grasp.

“Sie undankbar kleines Luder [You ungrateful little bitch],” Erich was pale with fright but still had enough fight in him to spit his venom. He struggled against the hold Kurt had on him. “Ich gab Ihnen ein besseres Leben als jeder moeglicher Jude verdient zu haben [I gave you a better life than any Jew deserves to have], gespeichert Ihnen von einem haesslichen Tod in Westchester [saved you from an ugly death in Westchester], und dieses ist wie Sie mich zurueckerstatten [and this is how you repay me]?” He gasped when Kurt wrenched his arms more tightly behind him, but still he raged at me. “Indem das Werfen in Ihr Los mit einer Ursache verurteilte zum Ausfallen [By throwing in your lot with a cause doomed to failure] und zum Geben zu dieser Sache hinter mir [and giving yourself to this thing behind me]?”

“Fur alles gaben Sie, Sie stahlen viel mehr von mir [For everything gav gave, you stole much more from me],” I answered with shaking hands. “Sie stahlen meine Identitaet [You stole my identity], meine Jungfraeulichkeit [my virginity], und meine Freiheit [and my freedom].” I stared him down, my entire body shaking with rage now, my heart burning with the words I’d longed to say for nearly a half a year. “Ich bin das Letzte meine Familie wegen der Maennen wie Sie [I’m the of of my family because of men like you]. Ich habe unschuldigen Kindwuerfel wegen ihres Bluts gesehen weil Scheusalen wie Sie uns Tiere anrufen [I’ve seen innocent children die for the blood in theiins ins because monsters like you call us animals]. Und wenn ich gleichmaessige weitere Person am Erleiden dieser Beleidgungen hindern kann [And if I can prevent even one more person from suffering these indignities], dann bilde ich meinen Standplatz mit der SACHE hinter Ihnen und mit allen stellt er dar [then I will make my stand with the THING behind you and with all he represents].”

“Er ist fur dich alles [He’s all yours],” Kurt stood tall behind Erich, restraining him seemingly without effort. Peter stood nearby, the only sound as he observed the exchange between us the slow burn of his cigarette as he watched me curiously.

I fingered the gun at my waist, watching the resignation register in Erich’s eyes. Then I let a smile creep across my lips. “Werden Sie Stille interessiert an was ich am Abendessen heute abend dachte [Are you still interested in what I was thinking at dinner tonight]?” I asked sweetly.

Erich glowered at me but remained silent.

“Mag ich gefallen borge eine Ihrer Klingen, Liebling [May I please borrow one of your swords, darling]?” I shifted my gaze slightly to Kurt, who nodded grimly and unsheathed one with his tail. My hands were steady now as I took it from him. I noticed absently that he would have to clean them later tonight; the hilt was sticky with drying blood. I let Erich stare down the blade at me for a moment before I wordlessly skewered him with it, feeling a deep satisfaction at seeing my former owner try to not cry out in pain. Kurt had teleported out of the way when I struck, leaving Erich’s arms free to help break his fall as he sank down to the floor. He knelt there now, blood bubbling from his lips, hands wrapped loosely around the hilt. I reached forward and withdrew it from his body before ramming it into him again – through his throat this time instead of his stomach. I’d never killed someone in so intimate a way before. Guns were so impersonal, but this wometomething entirely different. His blood dripped from the blade as I watched him die, Kurt standing beside me with his arm wrapped loosely around my waist. There wasn’t any dramatic death scene like in the movies, just a gradual fading of life from his ebefobefore he fell forward and died.

“Don’t know bout you, but I’m a mite uncomfortable that no one’s come up after these guys.” Smoke billowed from Peter’s mouth as he spoke.

I glanced up at Kurt, who nodded his agreement. “They’re probably waiting until we get outside. What doesn’t make sense to me is why Heidelmann came here personally.”

“He probably wanted to see you for himself.” I spontaneously remembered his illegal music collection, which he’d only indulged me with that once. “That, and he liked to take risks. Probably thought he was bulletproof.”

“Idiot,” Kurt snorted, taking his sword back when I offered it. “But we should get moving now. Peter, you know this city better than I do. Where can we stop on our way home?”

“You have to see where you’re goin’, aye?” Peter was moving cautiously to my curtained windows.

“Ja,” Kurt answered simply. “With the both of you, the first jump has to be no more than a kilometer.”

“Hmm . . . “ He peeked out from behind the curtains. “Bloody Hell, but there’s a lot of cops down there . . . The closest safe house is about five kilos from here, due East and as the crow flies.”

“I know we aren’t safe heret hot how do you intend to deal with the Sicarii? They’re sure to notice I’ve gone,” I asked quietly.

“Even Marius can’t deny we had to get you out of here, gel,” Peter smiled wearily. “And if he tries to give us Hell over it, too bloody bad I say.”

“Who’s Marius?”

“My boss.” Kurt’s expression was sour. “He and I need a long talk over this, anyway. I asked about you all over Europe, and none of them said they knho yho you were. But he would have been the one to approve you as a source of information.”

“joinjoined the Sicarii?” My mouth hung open as he took my hand in his and Peter’s in the other. “But why?”

“I didn’t think they were assholes at the time.”

BAMF.

My heart jumped into my throat when the eerie void of Kurt’s teleportation dissipated into a wall of armed officers sporting riot armor. Before we could even see where we were they had opened fire on us. Kurt reacted quickly as well, darting us about in a rapid series of jumps that amusingly enough encouraged the police to fire on their own. Then he moved us further towards our destination, where we met another group of SS. I noticed now that there were no cars out, no lights on in the houses, no sign of life other than us and the police. The city was in a lock-down.

“They’re tracking us—“ BAMF “—we need to go—“ BAMF “—somewhere else. Ideas?”

Before Peter could answer Kurt, we were teleporting yet again. As we came out I felt something impact my back, then another impact in my shoulder. I glanced down and saw a dart sticking out of my body.

“Sorry, mate—‘ BAMF “—not a one for you—“

I was already feeling nauseous from all the ‘porting, but whatever they’d shot me with really wasn’t helping now. “Kurt?” nagenaged to get his attention, my vision already swimming. He’d stopped teleporting despite the many armed men surrounding us. Peter was already out like a light and Kurt was heaving breath.

“I tried, liebe,” he gasped as more gunshots cracked off. He was trying and failing in his attempts to pull the darts out of his body with his tail, as his arms were necessary for keeping him off the ground. The last thing I saw before the poison claimed me was Kurt collapsing onto the pavement. I joined him a split second later.

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I came to gradually, my senses hazy around the edges. Everything seemed disjointed, disconnected, like a waking dream. I eventually worked out my situation. I was lying on a rough stone floor, my hands and feet bound in tight coils of rope, my body tingling with cold and the residual effects of the tranquilizer darts. I struggled to sit up and finally managed it, propping myself up on the jagged edges of the stone walls. The entire place was dark and smelled of water and earth. Was I in some sort of cave?

I couldn’t tell how much time passed between my waking and the arrival of the first men. They shelved their torches in sconces on the wall, showing me that I was in what appeared to be a dungeon. I recognized the men as some of Erich’s personal house guards. There were three of them; they looked me over quickly before speaking amongst themselves.

“I say we get to work after we’re done,” one of them continued a conversation I hadn’t been privy to before.

“Yes, I agree,” a second one nodded. “I like them pretty.”

I had no idea what they were talking about doing to me but whatever it was wasn’t likely to be pleasant. I kept my mouth shut when the first one came closer, a wicked-looking knife in his hands. He made like he was going to cut me free but then he dragged the flat of the blade over my face, the pointed tip scratching my cheeks. Then he cut my feet loose. Fear shot through me when the knife cut through my dress, slowly tearing away the material to reveal my flesh beneath. He put on a show of it, taking his time as he cut away my undergarments, earning the appreciatively vulgar comments of his comrades. I knew now what they were going to do with me and at the insistence of one of the others the first one went to work. They weren’t at all gentle with me and used my bon hun hurtful and unnatural ways that eventually had me crying out in pain. They kept going, competing with one another to see who could make me scream the loudest. They eventually tired of their sport, or perhaps the arrival of the second group of men was a signal that their playtime was at an end. I huddled into myself.

“Pick her up,” one of the new arrivals instructed, and I was hoisted to my feet by two of my rapists. The third one bent my head forward and held my hair off my neck as instructed by his superior.

“She doesn’t have the mark,” the one holding my hair up declared. Through my pain I wondered what mark they were talking about.

“How about it, Miriam?” The man giving orders addressed me. “Are you Sicarii like the other two?”

My stomach lurched at the realization that we’d all been captured. I pushed my concern about Kurt’s and Peter’s health from my mind, my defiance my only defense. “Kiss my ass,” I spat at the ground.

“I’ll enjoy breaking you,” the man purred. Then, to one of my captors, “See if she has an implant.”

I gasped when the knife cut open my neck, the blade probing around inside the newly created wound. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as he searched, finally prying loose the tracker.

“Oh, yeah,” he sounded pleased. “Look what I found.”

“How long have you been spying for them?”

I was forced to look up at the man, someone’s fingers knotted in my hair to pull my head up. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I sneered with as much contempt as I could manage.

“The Ubermann [Superman] came over on a smuggler’s vessel,” a female voice sneered back from the shadows. “Odds are she was a rebel in the States before she joined them here.” Elizabeth stepped forward, and I suspected that her Ice Queen persona would have cowered in fear of who she’d become. “Pry every bit of information out of her by whatever means necessary. Same goes for the boy.”

“And the Ubermann?” the man in charge of my torture asked.

“I’ll handle him personally.” She grinned coldly at me as she spoke. “Nicholas Cruxhaven, is it?” Judging from the way her grin grew even wider, I must have given away that I was rattled. “Or perhaps it’s Kurt . . . Yes, I do believe his name is Kurt. Isn’t that what you called him, Miriam?”

I kept my mouth shut.

“What’s his surname?”

“Haven’t got a clue,” I answered truthfully.

She walked over to me, her loingeingernails dancing across my face as though they were talons. “What’s his name?”

“Kurt Gofugerself,” I answered before spitting in her face.

She slapped me hard across the face, then once more on the other cheek. Then, to the waiting men, “Make me proud.”

She walked away, exiting the dungeon with determined steps. Once the heavy door slammed shut behind her I saw the leading man begin to smile himself. “String her up,” he instructed, and I was in short order bound by my still-tied hands to some of the chains suspended from the ceiling, my toes barely touching the ground. I was blindfolded so that I couldn’t see what they were going to do with me next – a mental game designed to enhance my fear – and I heard them take down various implements from the surrounding walls.

“What information from the Ministry did you give the Sicarii?” the man asked as I felt cold stiff strips of something brush over my bare back.

“I’m not telling you anything.” I tried to remain calm. I couldn’t let myself give in to my fear. I was too proud for that. The strips lifted off my flesh and came down hard, biting into my back painfully. Another lash, then another . . . it was a whip of some sort. I concentrated on breathing deeply so that I wouldn’t cry out again.

After about a dozen of the blows he spoke. “It’ll go much easier for you if you talk.”

“Bite me.”

The leather cracked loudly on my back, my skin already growing hot as the blood came to the surface. The beating continued for several minutes; it wasn’t long before I felt blood running down my spine. I struggled to breathe on my own terms, several of my exhalations jolted out of me by the whip. I was lightheaded when it stopped again.

“Come now, Miriam. I’ve been told you’re reasonably intelligent for a Jew. Talk to me, and we won’t hurt you again.”

“No.” I let myself hang limply by the chains; no sense expending my energy to maintain an intentionally precarious connection to the floor. The next thing I felt was agonizing. My back felt like it was blistering as someone rubbed salt into my open wounds. I screamed in pain despite my best efforts.

“How did you meet Kurt?”

I flipped him off with both hands from above my head.

I screamed when they salted me again.

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

The torture went on for days, weeks maybe. I can’t recall now all that happened to me. I remember that they whipped me again at some point. I was beaten without weapons and my ribs broke on my right side when someone kicked the Hell out of me after I fell to the ground. I was sexually brutalized over and over again. They used the salt on me a lot. They seemed particularly fond of that one, to the point of hosing me down so they could start fresh – I asstheythey got the loudest screams from me with it. I was their ashtray when they smoked their cigarettes. I was the recipient of other types of burning; before they left me for the night (Morning? Afternoon?) they would cauterize my wounds with clothes irons so that I wouldn’t bleed to death.

How I managed to keep my spirit from breaking the way my body had is beyond me. After each round of pain-inducing activity I would be questioned. How long had I been fighting against the Nazis? Where had Kurt come from? How could he do the extraordinary things he did? Which of the three of us killed Erich Heidelmann? Where did the Sicarii base themselves out of? Who was the boy? Who did I give my information to? I always refused to answer their questions, choosing instead to either remain mute or, when I had the energy for it, yell for them to have sex with themselves or something else equally obscene and rebellious. These outbursts always resulted in more pain but knowing that my stubbornneas fas frustrating to them kept me going somehow. They had to have been desperate for information to keep me alive this long. The longer I held out, my delirious mind reasoned, the harder it would be for the government to subdue the dissent in their empire. At the end, when I was so hungry that I felt like I was hollowed out on the inside and so thirsty that I thought I’d surely turn to dust the way vampires do when encountering sunlight, I managed a sandpaper laugh in the dark and silence of my prison after the doors closed behind them once more.

Even when I was left alone to rest for a few hours I was kept blindfolded and chained in such a way that I couldn’t remove the fabric with my hands or anything else in my reach. In the absence of my eyesight my hearing seemed to become more keen; but even so it wasn’t until they finally removed the blindfold that I realizhe nhe new noises were the sounds of carts wheeling across the cobbles of the floor. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and I saw before me the cart, which bore a television.

What new torture was this? Were they going to hold my eyes open and make me watch soap operas?

My silent quip didn’t make me feel better; quite the opposite. I suspected that I wouldn’t want to watch whatever programming they had for me. I watched as my captors worked in silence, connecting cs and rud running power lines before they turned the unit on and the volume up. The sight that met my eyes made me sit up as straight as I could.

I was looking at Kurt.

He was lying in a rather comfortable looking bed, seemingly asleep. I traced the lines that ran from his arms up to bags suspended by metal hooks, noted the care that had been put into tucking him neatly into the bed. A heart monitor beeped at regular intervals, the only soundtrack to this weird showing. He didn’t show signs of abuse – no lacerations or bruises (not that I was sure I would be able to see them because of his coloring), no limbs lying at odd angles. He simply seemed to be asleep and nothing more. He shifted slightly, eyes still closed, his tail sliding out from under the covers to twitch in time with some unknown beat. I watched as his left hand slid from the top of his stomach to lie limply next to him.

If I’d been able, I might have cried at seeing him like this. I couldn’t imagine that he’d complacently allow them to put him on machines like this. Was he sedated? It was all I could think of to explain it.

A door opened off-camera and the sound of heels clicking on the wood competed with the beeping that marked Kurt’s heartbeat. My breath hitched when I saw Elizabeth sit down in the chair next to the bed, her hands gently brushing through his curls. She was smiling serenely, her head tilted as she studied his sleeping form. A set of hands attached to arms clad in the white of a doctor manipulated one of the bags that fed into his veins, adding something to the mixture. Kurt’s eyes fluttered open a few minutes later; he blinked groggily and looked up at Elizabeth.

“Good morning, Kurt. Did you sleep well?” she asked pleasantly.

“Still sleepy,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to roll over and away from her – which would have him facing me. “M’gonna go backa sleep,” he slurred.

Elizabeth continued ra her her fingers through his hair as he turned away from her. “It’s time to wake up, Kurt.”

“Mmm . . .” He moaned, smiling a little. “Feels good, like that.”

She smiled a little wider, her expression one that would be appropriate when dealing with a small child or a beloved pet. “I want you to tell me again about your friends, Kurt.”

“Not m’friends,” the words stumbled from his lips. “Tol’ you already.”

“But they must be worried about you by now,” she continued gently. “Iu teu tell me where to find them, I’ll bring them to see you.”

Kurt’s face bunched into a petulant pout. “Don’ w’nna see th’m. W’nna see Mir’am.”

My heart clenched painfully in my chest. The grit in my throat rubbed agt itt itself as I struggled to not sob – they were watching me watching him, and I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“You really love Miriam, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm . . . “ He smiled again, nestling into the pillow. “L’ve ‘er.”

“Why?” Elizabeth’s fingers were playing with one curl in particunow,now, her eyes sweeping over his bare shoulders and back.

“Engle [Angel],” his voice was almost whispering. “Sh’s n’ce t’me, alw’ys.”

“But you’re a German, aren’t you?”

“Nein.” He shifted the pillow beneath him. “L’ng time ‘go, b’fore ‘poc’lypse won.”

Her eyes grew wide; I supposed this was new information to her. “Who is Poclypse?”

“Y’know, ‘poc’lypse.” His tone indicated that in his drug-addled mind it was absurd that someone wouldn’t know who Apocalypse was. “No m’re Ger’m’ny, all part of ‘mpire now. But I wouldn’ join.”

“What did you do, then?”

“Wh’t’s called in Engl’sh? Expatriate?” He squeezed his eyes shut as though he were thinking hard. “Wen’ t’Magn’s.” He yawned widely before settling into his pillow again. “B’came ‘n X-M’n.” He yawned again.

“And you fought Poclypse with Magnas?” She mispronounced the name, which seemed to irritate him.

“Mmmmm. . . “ He moaned. “Talk t’you l’ter. ‘M sleepy. Go ‘way s’I c’n sleep.”

She leaned back and let him drift off, waiting until he was snoring before addressing someone I couldn’t see in the monitor. “You have all the samples you need?”

“Yes,” a man’s voice answered unseen. “If we need anything else, we can get it post-mortem, if you’re ready.”

I felt my eyes go wide in horror. My God, they weren’t going to execute him in front of me, were they?? Oh please God no, not Kurt, please . . .

“He’s just rambling nonsense now.” Elizabeth sighed, glancing back at Kurt. “It’s time. But I want the vial. An eye for ae, ye, you know.”

If my hands had been free they’d have been pressed against my mouth to keep me from screaming. As it was, my mouth was working soundlessly in the face of this grim and clinical finality. I trembled as I watched Elizabeth insert a large vial of some sort of drug into the IV, depressing the plunger to push it forward and into his bloodstream. She walked off-camera and a door whispered open and back shut again, clicking as the latch caught. I prayed feverishly that he had something in his mutation to fight off the drugs, watching with mounting terror as it happened. The beeping in the background gradually slowed as did the rhythm of his shoulder as he slept on his side. His snoring faded after a time and the beeping of the monitor was very slow now. I counted between beats, feebly grasping at the desperately persistent hope that this was a sick joke, something he’d snap out of at any second. Thirty seconds between beats . . . forty seconds . . . forty-five . . . I clutched frantically at my faith when I heard the monitor beep rapidly, almost spastically, a few times.

My broken ribs jabbed into my lungs when I started weeping, my sobs coming out more like forced and raspy barks. They finally broke me, my spirit and my mind snapping when the beeping came again and did not stop.