Aleksandra Read online

  We need to get inside the main compound where the fights are held. There is a connecting tunnel that leads to the prison. I only saw two floors when I was imprisoned, Mikhail said. But a few of the prisoners told me there were more—at least four that they knew of.

  Dear God, Natalya whispered then pointed to the front door of the main house. There's our way in. I remember being led to the ring through the house. Just off the kitchen, there are stairs leading down into a tunnel that lead to what looked like an office with a desk and two cells inside. From there, Himmler took me through a doorway and into the fight room.

  Aleksandra's gaze never left the darkened entry. Only moments before, the door had been closed. When had it opened? All she'd done was blink. I don't like this, Natalya. Why did the door open, yet no one walked out?

  I don't like it either, but we don't have enough time to sit here much less try to figure out another entrance. We would be caught long before then if this place is crawling with werewolves. In fact, we're risking everything by staying where we are.

  Aleksandra exhaled, knowing her friend was right. She still didn't like it, though. All right then, let's move.

  19

  The three of them made it inside the main cabin without any problems. Standing in the darkened space, a ghostly light filtered through from a distant room, and Aleksandra's gaze moved around the area. She noticed a large rock fireplace to her right and the cozy sofa and chairs in front of it. To her left was more seating and in the far corner a hallway. The heaviness persisted inside the house as well, made worse by the gloomy interior. Heavy drapes covered the windows she'd seen from the outside. More than anything, she wanted to pull back the drapes on each, just to be able to breathe a bit easier.

  She followed Natalya and Mikhail through the room and discovered where the pale light came from. There was a bank of windows on the far wall with the curtains open, letting in rays of moonlight from the outside. With the long expanse of cabinets and countertops, they were obviously in the kitchen. Turning left toward a closed door, Natalya covered her mouth with her finger.

  Aleksandra's first response was to ask her how she was supposed to be any quieter—she hadn't yet made a sound. She trusted Natalya's instincts, though, just as she'd done in the air. Mikhail had been correct earlier. Her Night Witch leader's instincts were never wrong, and it had saved all their lives as they'd dropped nightly bombs on the German front line.

  I wish we had our planes right now. We could just bomb this place and destroy everything here.

  Me, too, Natalya agreed. The only problem with that are the imprisoned soldiers. They were drawn into this against their will. My conscience would never let me do anything that could hurt, much less kill, innocents.

  You know I couldn't either, but I have the overwhelming feeling we've missed something—something not good. Aleksandra met Natalya's gaze, and her hand wrapped around the knob.

  What do you think it is? Mikhail asked. All I feel is the pain and suffering from below us.

  Aleksandra shook her head, pushing her rifle strap higher on her shoulder. I'm not sure, but... Tilting her head, she listened to the oppressive silence and felt the subtle tug of power drawing her forward. Whatever it is wants me to go through that door.

  Does it feel evil? Natalya asked, pulling her hand away from the knob.

  Not really, no. More insistent, like a summons. Remember how it felt when we were called in front of Marina? A mixture of needing to respond yet dreading it if we were in trouble?

  Natalya smiled. How could I forget that? I wanted to get there as quick as I could, but my feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. She exhaled, her lips moving out from the force. Once again, she wrapped her hand around the knob and silently turned it, opening the door. The stairs are steep, so be careful.

  They made it safely down to the bottom. Near the ceiling were the same oval security lights she'd seen back in the control room at Vilna, but at least they could see. The last thing she wanted to do was stumble into someone or something in the complete darkness.

  They followed the tunnel, the cement walls unbroken from the stairwell to where it dead-ended and a new passageway branched off in different directions.

  Aleksandra, can you tell which way we should go? Mikhail asked.

  The sense of urgency and pull came from the right tunnel. Right.

  That's the same direction as the office and cells where Himmler took me, Natalya said.

  Then we'll follow you, liybimaya.

  Aleksandra loved Mikhail's whispered endearment to his wife. Jakob's face filled her mind, and the way his hazel eyes glittered when he'd whispered his own endearment to her at the cave. Mein bärchen. Strangely enough, she no longer minded being called a little bear, as long as only he called her that. She hoped Freyja sent him back to her soon. She desired his steady presence and even missed his dark scowl, the expression most often on his face. She knew the man inside. Her man. Holding him as he lay dying in her arms, she'd known then she loved him and didn't want to face the world without him. She only wished she had told him.

  They halted outside an open door. Aleksandra moved to the front and walked into the brightly lit room and abruptly stopped. Natalya plowed into her, but Mikhail sidestepped them, his pistol in his hand and aimed at a tall blond man sitting behind the desk.

  He looked up, his brilliant blue eyes glittering as he stared. He was dressed in a German uniform, and from the lapel insignia, Aleksandra recognized his SS officer status. They now stood in front of the camp's commander—the last person they wanted to see. He glanced at the closed door opposite them then the one they'd just come through, both suddenly slammed closed behind them. The snicking of the locks sounded like explosions in her ears.

  "I was beginning to wonder if I'd placed my faith in the wrong person, Aleksandra," the blond man said as he stood. Mikhail's gun rose, but with a flick of a wrist, the stranger disarmed him, and the pistol flew across the room, hitting the iron bars on the first cell. "You do not need that here. For the moment, we are safe. No one will enter or leave this room unless I say so."

  "Who are you?" Aleksandra frowned at him as he walked around the desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, she noticed the slight ripple of muscles underneath his shirt as he sat on the desktop and studied them, his eyes seeming to pierce their very souls.

  "My German name is Uralt Betrüger. I am the SS Commander in charge here. And you two must be Natalya and Mikhail." He turned his blue gaze back on Aleksandra. "Now, you're here so I can only assume you figured out the poems."

  "You know your name means ‘ancient deceiver’ in German?" Mikhail's brow rose.

  "I've been told that before."

  Aleksandra narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about the poems?"

  The hint of a grin passed over his handsome face then disappeared. "Because I wrote them and put the first one in your bag myself. I couldn't get away from here, so my brother delivered the second one to you. It was up to you and Jakob to figure out the riddles." He frowned. "Where is Jakob?"

  "He had a run in with one of your werewolves," Mikhail said. "Why did you do that—write poems to warn us about upcoming events? You're German...or supposed to be. Yet you speak Russian as if you had been born there."

  Betrüger stared at Mikhail for a moment. "I am quite gifted in languages," he answered in flawless German, then repeated the statement in Polish, English, and ended in Japanese, his gaze moving back to Aleksandra. Each accent was perfect.

  "I'm impressed," Aleksandra said. "Japanese isn't an easy language to learn, speaking or writing. How do you know about us or Jakob?"

  "I am fluent in all languages." Surprisingly, the commander didn't look smug, but simply spoke matter-of-factly.

  He intrigued her, and she wanted to know even more why he would take the time to write them poems. She noticed, though, he hadn't answered her second question, which didn't sit well. Not wanting to jeopardize her friends and not knowing what else to do, she called ou
t to Freyja. We may have a slight problem...

  "Your poetry is good," she pressed, studying his face to see if his stoic expression changed. "I can imagine it wasn't easy to come up with the right phrasing of words to create the perfect warning." In a way, he reminded her of Jakob. Both men seemed capable of hiding any and all feelings whenever they wanted. She needed to practice the ability herself. Her face hid nothing, every emotion there for the world to see.

  A flash of colored light lit the room. "What is—" Freyja stepped out of the light like a doorway and waltzed toward them, her elegant green skirt swishing over the cement floor, but jerked to a stop, her eyes widening. Aleksandra watched the emotions on both the goddess's and the German's faces go from calm to surprised. "Lamruil!" Freyja exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

  The commander stood and gave a slight bow. "My Lady, how did you know it was me?"

  Freyja smiled. "I would know you and your brother anywhere. You both spent most of your lives playing in my gardens. I have watched over you a long time, Ailuin, too. Is he here?"

  "No, my lady. He is traveling Midgard in a band and entertaining the German troops." His gaze dropped to the floor. "Not of his own volition, I might add."

  Freyja scowled, her hands resting on her slender hips. "Odin's behind this, isn't he? What has that man done now?"

  Lamruil or Betrüger, whatever his name was, nodded. "Yes. I was ordered on the life of my twin to infiltrate the German army and create as much chaos as I could. Fortunately, the only thing I've been able to do is warn your soldiers here about events and try to get them in the right place at the right time. The rest of my time has been spent counteracting Heydrich's every decision. The man is wholly evil and needs to be stopped."

  "So, you weren't behind keeping Heydrich alive?" Freyja asked.

  His blond brows rose. "No, my lady. I was sent here to keep this experiment going. I thwarted Himmler's efforts as long as I could, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he discovered the correct process to transform men into beasts."

  "Then who..." She shook her head. "There's only one other person I know of, other than you and Idunn, who has the power of both the light and dark elves—the ability to change a person's fate and return life. Your brother."

  He scowled. "Ailuin? He would never—"

  "He would if he was commanded the same as you. Odin is holding your life over him, just like he's doing to you. Damn that man!" She dropped her fists and paced back and forth, muttering under her breath. Finally, she stopped in front of Lamruil. "Do you know where your brother is?"

  He stared at her a moment then nodded. "He was trying to discover the information we need to shut down the escape routes Bormann and Himmler are constructing throughout Europe in case the war doesn't go their way. My brother's focus was on Bertchesgaden, near the Austrian border, but he had to leave in order to intercept the army of werewolves now heading north. He and a few of our people who are with him plan on holding out, taking out as many as possible, until reinforcements arrive. My Lady, we are at a turning point in this war. Hitler has begun planning for a Fourth Reich elsewhere."

  "That man is like a hydra. Cut of one head and there are two more in its place. I will catch up to Ailuin. We need to return Heydrich's history back to what it should have been. I anticipate the current events will alter once that is accomplished."

  "What should it be?" Aleksandra couldn't help but ask, understanding most of the conversation between the two friends but totally confused about everything else. "Heydrich's history, I mean. With all the changes to the past, was he supposed to die last year?"

  Freyja glanced at her over one shoulder. "Yes. He didn't die immediately after the Czech partisans attacked him. His health was improving until Himmler's doctor arrived and took over his treatment. He died soon after. Most people believe the doctor poisoned him. Some of the horrors Heydrich has masterminded in our current timeline should never have happened." Turning, she faced the three of them with a serious expression. "Do everything Lamruil tells you. I would trust him and his brother with my life."

  "You honor me, my lady," the man said behind her.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, raising one brow. "Did you know your name means ‘ancient deceiver’ in old German? Quite amusing, really." Turning back to them, she smiled. "Be safe, my special ones." One by one, her amethyst gaze touched on them. "I'm afraid you will have a decision to make soon—whether to continue liberating the camps or help Ailuin seek out the ratlines created for Hitler's escape. I leave that choice in your hands."

  Aleksandra didn't know what the others felt, but her strength and perseverance returned. Once again, hope filled her heart, and she knew the world would be right one day soon. They just had to believe. In her usual flair, Freyja's body dissipated in a million golden lights, twirling in a mini whirlwind then falling to the ground, only to blink out before they landed.

  The man glared at the spot where Freyja had stood and shook his head. "I regret choosing that name." One corner of his mouth rose into a partial grin. "She has style though; I'll give her that."

  "So, who are you really?" Mikhail asked. "As I first suspected, you aren't German..."

  "I am called Lamruil Vakas," he said and bowed to them in an old-world gallantry. It reminded Aleksandra of a lord from centuries past and could imagine a sword at his side. "I am from an all but decimated line of elves who live in Asgard." He blinked and his stoic Nazi persona disappeared, replaced by an almost beautiful male. His long blond hair was loose, except for two braids going from his temple and tied at the back of his head. His skin now looked paler than hers and shimmered with a golden cast in the light. He was still tall, a bit taller than Mikhail, and his form was slender under his dark green vest and tight pants. His cream-colored shirt with puffed sleeves at each wrist reminded her of a pirate's.

  "I'm confused," Aleksandra said, giving him a quick frown. "If you're from Asgard and seem to give Freyja deference, why are you fighting with the Germans?"

  "Not all is as it seems."

  She groaned. "We've all heard that before. Just once, I would love for someone to actually explain what they mean by that."

  He leaned against his desk, sitting halfway on the top with one long leg dangling. "As I'm sure Freyja has explained, Asgard is ruled by Odin while the rest of us are used for his every whim. His power comes from the chaos each world creates, whether by civic unrest, murder and mayhem, or wars. He prefers wars because they can become global tragedies, like this one. He is able to reap the benefits, storing the powerful energy to be manipulated for whatever else he can create. That same energy is also what keeps Asgard safe from our enemies, so it's twofold."

  "How do you come into all of this?" Natalya crossed her arms and leaned into Mikhail, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  A twinge of envy popped into Aleksandra's heart, but she pushed it away just as quickly as it had appeared. She loved them like a brother and sister and would not let such a destructive emotion interfere in that. She refused to give in to the doubt she'd had earlier. Jakob would come back, and they would figure out whatever this was between them. She forced her attention back to Lamruil.

  "Unfortunately, Odin ordered me to increase the bounty of chaos and siphon it into Asgard, but in this war, Hitler and his inner circle are creating enough for two worlds. It's all I can do to stay on top of it and keep their initiative from spiraling out of control."

  "What would happen?" Aleksandra asked.

  "This world would cease to be. There are men close to him who want to destroy all here and keep only those few selected as pure Aryans. In your world's history, an idiot by the name of Comte de Gobineau created the ideology that Germans were racially pure. He gathered a few followers who kept that idiocy alive. Hitler has always been an outcast, so naturally he'd adopt a false belief, creating an entire Reich around it, so he would fit in. Funny, that as the leader of this supposed Reich, he is nothing like what he's spouting. He is short, round,
has brown eyes and hair, and is most definitely not physically perfect in any way."

  They all chuckled. "So true," Mikhail agreed. "I've wondered about that since this mess began."

  "So, what were you trying to make happen with the poems? And why me?" There was something about the man—no, elf—Aleksandra liked. His words held a truthfulness and his aura was a blend of silver and gold. Narrowing her focus, she also saw a thread of black weaving all the colors together, but she didn't get a sense of oppressiveness or evil. This person, no matter how it had first seemed, was honorable.

  She raised her gaze to his and saw comprehension dawn in their blue depths then morphing into gratitude. He tilted his head toward her with a faint grin.

  "Alva has been keeping me abreast of what Freyja and Idunn have been doing regarding the creation of their little army. I discovered her hiding place in the nearby forest and, more or less, convinced her to tell me why she was there and who sent her. I was afraid my cover had been blown. But to find out I might have help? She gave me your name, Aleksandra, and told me to reach out to you. It isn't easy to earn the respect of a Huldra. That alone told me you were special."

  She shook her head. "I'm not special. I'm just me."

  His smile was slow and took her breath away. The simple expression made him even more beautiful. "You see people for who they are, from the inside. You don't judge them on looks or their pasts but take them at face value and allow them to be the best person they can be."

  "True," Natalya whispered. "You are all those things and the reason why we flew so well together. You were the glue uniting us, my friend."

  "No." Aleksandra's eyes widened. "We were amazing as a group because of your leadership, Natalya. I simply listened and obeyed, helping anyone I could along the way."

  Natalya smiled. "That's what Lamruil's talking about. You lift people up."

  Thinking they were all mad, she changed the subject. "Did we correctly decipher the hidden clues?"

  He stared at her a moment, the knowledge of what she was doing in his blue gaze. "Yes, you figured them out faster than I normally would have liked but glad all the same. The first poem took you to the ghetto in Vilna and helped delay the deaths of thousands of people. The second poem brought you here to me."