Aleksandra Page 19

  She handed Natalya the poem. Needing something to keep her busy while they discussed the possible meaning, she started the fire and made a new pot of coffee. Pouring four cups, she gave each person a cup then wrapped her chilled hands around her own. Taking small sips, she wished once more for sugar and cream. Black coffee was so disgusting, but it was hot and settled her stomach. She half-listened to their discussion, her mind wandering to Jakob and his healing. She refused to even think anything else.

  Natalya placed her hand on Aleksandra's knee. "He will be just fine, sweetie. You know they will do everything they can for him...and more, if needed."

  Aleksandra lowered her drink and nodded. "I know. I just—I don't know. I just need to know he's going to be okay."

  18

  Wanting to kick herself for not asking earlier, Aleksandra met Natalya's gaze. "Before I forget, are Alicja and Lena okay?"

  "They both made it through without a scratch. No one in any of the houses was injured."

  Relief poured through her. The two women had been instrumental in allowing her to get inside to Jakob so fast. Otherwise... She shoved that last thought away. Thinking the worst wouldn't do anybody any good.

  "Lena is amazing with organizing and refocusing people," Natalya told her. "Could you believe how Alicja didn't hesitate to rush into the battle and gather the weapons? By the end, almost everyone had a weapon of some sorts and no one ran out of ammunition."

  "I'm thankful they're both okay. Their leadership abilities will be useful as the town is rebuilt. I only hope the Germans don't return."

  "I will leave a group of my men to help and watch over them—make sure they can fight back, if need be," Bernard said, placing his empty cup near his boot.

  "More coffee?" Aleksandra asked. With three yeses, she poured the last drop into Mikhail's cup. Getting water from the barrel, she put on a new pot. Settling back down, she picked up the piece of paper. "Now, what did you all think? Any ideas as to what it means?"

  Natalya rolled her eyes. "Who knows? We couldn't decide. Besides, didn't you say you've figured it out?"

  "Yes, but to know if I'm right, you need to at least try to come up with something. What if I'm wrong?"

  Mikhail's steady gaze held hers. "You aren't."

  That shook her. "How do you know?"

  "I am half Romani. My grandmother had a gift—one she passed on to me. I sometimes see or know things. You may not be able to do things like Natalya, but what you can do is tremendous, especially your mind. You, too, see things others miss and can work through problems much faster than most people. Jakob has the same ability—he watches and is always thinking about things. Together, you will be the heart of our group, and we will succeed in winning this war."

  Aleksandra was amazed. No one had ever said anything like that before. "I don't know what to say."

  Natalya squeezed her hand. "You don't need to say anything, except for your answer, of course."

  "That I can do." She picked up the paper. "Like the first poem, I think the title is the key for finding the clues. One by Two. This time, I think it means the first word on every other line. So, Battle cries sound, The horde awaits. Time spins fast, Revolving in hate. The key words would be battle and time.

  “The second stanza is Now, pasts are relived, All futures are changed. Unrelenting, beasts attack, The world writhes in pain. The key words, now and unrelenting. For the third stanza, Death steals the innocent, Violence grows. Man's quest for power, Evil, the unstoppable foe. Again, the key words should be death and man's.

  “The last stanza is Misdeeds are sown, Crows carry tales. Known to the Father, Chaos assails, and the key word are misdeeds and known. Put the key words together and they read, battle time now. Unrelenting death. Man's misdeeds known."

  Natalya met Mikhail's gray gaze, their expressions sobering. For Aleksandra, it was a solemn accreditation, but she didn't feel any better about figuring it out.

  "I believe whoever wrote this wants us to unveil what the Nazis' final solution is and make sure the Allies realize what Hitler and his inner circle are about," Mikhail said.

  "I do, too." Natalya threaded her fingers through her husband's.

  A sharp pain penetrated the area over Aleksandra's heart, her thoughts once again turning to Jakob. Freyja, how is he? I need to know Jakob's all right.

  He is strong, young one. Idunn has once again worked her magic. By the time I got him here, your man was gone from this life, but Idunn wrought a true miracle. I will warn you, though, he will need to heal. I cannot guarantee he will be well enough to go back to your world any time soon.

  Aleksandra let out a drawn-out breath. Thank you. As long as I know he's recovering, I will deal with things down here until he can return.

  You are welcome, Aleksandra. Have you decoded the poem yet?

  We think so, but we're not sure what we're supposed to do with it. The gist of the hidden message is Battle time now, Unrelenting death. Man's misdeeds known. We think it may be in connection with the camps and getting the Allies to understand what Hitler's final solution is and what he's doing to these people.

  Hmm. You could be on to something, but don't forget the werewolves. The poem could also be about them—man's misdeeds known—the discovery of Hitler's army of monsters.

  That's true, too. It looks like we have a decision to make—deciding which idea to follow. Aleksandra glanced over at Bernard, who stood and hurried outside. She wondered what was going on but didn't want to interrupt the goddess, who'd already begun talking again.

  If it were me, I would go to the Führerhauptquartier Werwolf at Vinnytsia in the Ukraine. I can't put my finger on it or find proof, but something there is off. You remember the Huldra—my assistant, Alva? She received intel about unknown magical energy in the area but can't pinpoint it or who's creating it. She is also very worried about a young Russian soldier soon to be converted and is afraid he won't make it through the procedure. I have never seen Alva so upset, much less focused on a man before. You will need to look into this when you get there. I will be in touch...and Aleksandra? Be careful.

  Bernard hurried back inside and grabbed his black bag, slinging it then his rifle over one shoulder. "Einsatzgruppen Nine left with Heydrich two days ago, but one of our patrols caught sight of them returning. We need to get the camp established now or they won't hold out against them. The Einsatzgruppen are ruthless and don't care who they're shooting at."

  Mikhail nodded. "Rodrick's group should arrive in the next hour if they didn't run into any German patrols between Orel and here."

  "I received a missive from Christien. His unit left Riga, so they should show up later tonight. I only hope they make it before the Germans. If they do, we will have enough manpower to hold back the Nazis," Bernard added. "Will the three of you stay and fight?"

  Aleksandra caught Natalya's gaze and gave a quick shake of her head, trying not to let Bernard see her. Natalya, Freyja said we should seek answers at Vinnytsia.

  Natalya groaned. I'm getting so tired of that place. Mikhail, what should we do? Go or stay until the others arrive?

  Mikhail caressed Natalya's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Bernard, how long before the Germans return?"

  "When I got word, they were about a day's march south of here. We disabled most of the train tracks in a fifty-mile radius, so they'll be in vehicles—maybe around noon tomorrow? I plan on organizing those inside to go through the sewers and attack the remaining Nazis hole up in the forest."

  "That's good. Eliminate as many as possible before reinforcements arrive. Also, a spy has picked up chatter about something happening near Vinnytsia, but—" His heavy-lidded gaze held his wife's then met Aleksandra's before turning back to the resistance leader. "You know I've always been a bit...different."

  "Sure do," Bernard agreed. "I've seen some mighty strange things happen around you. Unexplainable things." His eyes narrowed. "What's this all about?"

  Leaning forward, Mikhail motioned for him to sit,
which he did, reluctantly. "Knowing me as well as you do, please trust me now, my friend. There are things going on that are beyond your comprehension, but I need you to listen to what I'm about to tell you. It could mean life or death."

  Bernard frowned, his gaze wary. "I don't understand, Mikhail. Just spit it out, what are you trying to say?"

  Mikhail inhaled. "We've been following reports about Himmler working to create super soldiers for Hitler's army. Someone undefeatable." Bernard nodded but stayed silent. "Himmler succeeded, but the results are beyond anything you can imagine. The SS are capturing men—whether Russian, Polish, or Czech—whoever they think may be a suitable candidate. They force the captives to go through some kind of procedure. When they wake up, they find themselves forever changed. Himmler, who we believe is under Heydrich's orders, is creating monsters. Werewolves."

  "You know I never doubt what you tell me, Mikhail." Bernard's brows rose. "But werewolves? Really? They are nothing more than scary stories our parents told us when we were children to get us to mind."

  His stoic expression giving nothing away, and Mikhail returned Bernard's doubt-filled stare. "I wouldn't have said anything, but we think a few are either here now or nearby."

  Aleksandra nervously swallowed. She should have wondered about the werewolf in the control room, but she'd been too worried about Jakob and hadn't given it any more thought. "If there were more inside the ghetto," she asked, "why didn't we see any during the uprising? If they were there, why didn't they attack us?"

  "My guess is they were ordered not to. It would have ruined the surprise, and Hitler is all about surprises, even to his own people. If they weren't supposed to show themselves yet or there were only a few, they might not have wanted to risk the knowledge about them getting out," Mikhail said.

  Bernard scrubbed his weary face then dropped his arms, letting his hands hang over each knee. "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "Very," Natalya answered. "We know Himmler is performing these procedures at a camp near Vinnytsia, which is why we can't stay. The uprising here would give him the chance to send in his creations and destroy everything, thus, showing his hand and telling the world he will win. It's the perfect strategy because no one, at first sight, would want to fight these creatures. They're terrifying."

  "But they can be killed," Aleksandra interjected. "Both Jakob and I have killed them, so it's not impossible. Shooting them slows them down, but the kill shots are the head and neck—or going for the heart, just like a regular person. We discovered, though, they heal incredibly fast, so make your first shot count."

  "Most of these people don't even have guns. They've stockpiled quite a few but ammunition is precious. They aren't trained as soldiers, so they don't shoot as well," Bernard said in a weary voice.

  "Then in the time you have left, train them." Mikhail leaned over and gripped his friend's wrist. "We have a few hours, so we can help. Aleksandra is a sniper, one of the best I have ever seen, other than Jakob."

  Bernard's brown gaze met hers, admiration shining in their depths. "I saw some of the shots she made earlier—I thought the same thing."

  A warmth crept up her neck and over her face. She smiled and lowered her head. "Thank you." She mumbled. Freyja's words once again coming to mind, so she forced her shoulders back and her head high. From this moment on, she mentally declared, I am going to believe in myself and whatever abilities I may discover.

  Good girl! Freyja whispered.

  Aleksandra wasn't sure if she'd said it for all of them to hear but decided she didn't care. It was time for her to stop hiding. She cleared her throat. "I would be glad to help anyone who needs it. These are good people. They deserve to live."

  "I couldn't agree more." Bernard grabbed his bag and rifle then stood. "If you're going to abandon me, we'd best get started."

  Mikhail clapped him on the shoulder. "I think you will be glad we're leaving. My gut is telling me these beasts are on the move and heading this way. My wife is usually right about things like this. She's an amazing strategist—never loses at chess."

  "Thanks for the warning," Bernard muttered and led the way back into town.

  The last two hours in Vilna had been spent teaching the men and even a few women how to shoot. Aleksandra had been given the best candidates and showed them a few tricks, so they would have a better chance at making kill shots. Now, almost six hours later, riding in a stolen German truck toward the führerhauptquartier in Vinnytsia, she couldn't help but worry about leaving them. There had been quite a few who were surprisingly good with their weapons. If these beasts attacked, they wouldn't stand a chance, and many would die. They needed months, and for most, maybe even years of practice, not simply a few hours.

  "They will be fine, Aleksandra," Natalya said. "Your worry is beating at me. We will put down as many of the werewolves as we can and pray the townspeople will be able to take care of those we can't stop."

  "I know, but it's like sending lambs to the slaughter. There were only a handful who had any kind of military experience. The rest were scholars or farmers and never once had held a gun in their hands. I can't help but worry."

  "I'm more worried about us getting to Vinnytsia in time," Mikhail interjected. "Do you think Freyja could transport us there faster?"

  "We can ask. If she's not knee-deep in a new problem, she should able to—like she did when she sent us from Stalingrad to Engles so we could steal the plane."

  "Then you'd better ask because I've got that bad feeling churning inside me."

  For the first time since they'd left Vilna, Aleksandra noticed his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Do you have that feeling often?"

  He nodded. "Especially when it involves someone close to me. Right now, my instincts are screaming at me, telling me to get to the compound as fast as we can."

  Natalya laid her hand on her husband's thigh. "Freyja just told me she has been watching the God's Glass because she had the same feeling. She agreed to transport us as soon as you stop the vehicle. Alva, the Huldra I told you about, returned, frantic for help."

  Aleksandra slapped her forehead. "She told me the same thing, but I forgot to mention it. Sorry."

  "It's all good. Anyway, she said Heydrich went to the compound after leaving Vilna. He and Himmler have been converting the men at a record pace. From what she could tell, there are more than five hundred already transformed and heading north. They have almost that many soldiers still locked up awaiting the procedure."

  Natalya gave Mikhail a confused frown. "Do you remember the young soldier who took us from Moscow to the front line so we could speak to General Zhukov?"

  "I think so...yes, I remember him. Young but quick, if I recall."

  "That's the one. Alva said he's disappeared from the army. General Zhukov had men looking for his body because of a promise he'd made to someone back in Moscow, but he was nowhere to be found. Alva was able to get into the bunker, I guess, and talked to him. She has some kind of magic that's keeping him hidden from the Nazis each time they come for a new group, but they're running out of time. She's growing weaker the more time she spends on Earth."

  Natalya covered Aleksandra's hand with her own and squeezed. "Freyja also told me to reassure you that Jakob has almost recovered from his wounds and should be joining us soon."

  Aleksandra frowned. "How can that be? She told me he actually died before they could treat him. He was worse than I was and would take much longer to recover. How can he be almost healed?"

  "Time passes differently in Asgard than it does here. From what I understand, all worlds are like that, so it can be tricky sometimes, getting to a destination at the right time," Mikhail explained as he pulled the truck to the side of the road. Turning it off, he picked up Natalya's hand.

  Natalya threaded her fingers through Aleksandra's. "Hold on tight." She chuckled.

  Aleksandra's body lightened, almost like she was floating in the air. She stared at her friends as their bodies faded, tiny multicolored spots twi
nkling around them. The lights disappeared, and they were surrounded by darkness. In the distance, she saw a pinprick of light blinking. The space surrounding them lightened as they sped toward the bright spot at the end of what reminded her of a long tunnel.

  Her stomach pitched and turned queasy, but she forced her eyes to remain open and her lips together as they abruptly stopped near the edge of a forest. "I hate how I feel after taking the Freyja Express," she grumbled.

  "The Freyja Express...I love that!" Natalya laughed. "That's what we're calling it from now on. I never knew you were so witty, Aleksandra."

  Aleksandra followed the couple as they entered the trees, following a definite path made by vehicles as they drove into it. They hurried toward the Werwolf führer bunker, the feeling of doom surrounding them, growing heavier the closer they got to the compound.

  Aleksandra pressed her hand over her stomach, noticing Natalya held hers. Why do I feel so sick?

  You feel it, too? It's oppressive, Natalya answered. I think it's this place—residue from the transformations and those who didn't make it. I also sense anxiety mixed in with an all-consuming fear. Coming here in the dead of night isn’t helping either.

  That's normal, Mikhail joined in. This is how I feel in hospitals—surrounded by death, sickness—overpowering sorrow. Somehow...it reminds me of magic, like a spell. He glanced at Natalya and shook his head. I don't think Freyja and Idunn are the only otherworldly beings participating in this war.

  Freyja has been worried about that very thing. She thinks someone is doing Odin's bidding and creating more chaos, Aleksandra said, silently creeping behind the other two.

  Mikhail held up his hand, motioning for them to stop, then crouched. The two women did the same. The stench of unwashed bodies and death hit them in the face. They watched the empty grounds, feeling a cyclical surge of energy push them backward. The sensation repeated itself like the ocean's tide—an unstoppable force of nature.