Aleksandra Page 6

  "What is it?" she asked in a steady voice.

  Thankful she didn't seem to be having any adverse effects from the head injury, he tilted his head toward the forest. "We need to get among the trees and make our way to the hill. I don't want to take a chance someone out there," he pointed to the ongoing battle not too far from their current location, "will turn around and see us. We'll need to move fast."

  "I'll stay on your heels. Just don't slow down or I might run right over you." She grinned, the small smile lighting up her face, and his breath caught in his chest at the change in her face. She was pretty before, but smiling... He also liked that she had a sense of humor—and gumption.

  Holding the rifle and pack straps together, he hunched down and took off toward the trees. Behind him, he heard the soft clumping of Aleksandra's boots against the rocky ground. Not taking a chance they could be seen, he moved deeper inside the grove and followed a rambling path toward the hill. He reached the base where he had originally climbed up but stopped and dropped into a squat, studying the overlapping boot prints in the sand.

  Aleksandra knelt beside him, a slight frown on her face. "What is it?" she whispered.

  Jakob pointed to one particular boot print, the outside heel angled from wear. "See that? I'm the only one who has been here, so there shouldn't be any other prints. I always brush away my prints before climbing up the hill when I first arrived. Once there, I never left, except when I went to check on you. In my haste, I went down a more precarious way, so there should be no prints here at all." He raised his head, staring at the partially hidden top ledge. "I think someone's up there."

  They stood at the same time, Aleksandra's gaze roaming the surrounding area. "So, where do we go now? I need to make my way north."

  "Then, we go north." He headed toward the route he took to get there. They walked side by side, lost in thought, until Jakob recognized a particular gnarled tree up ahead. "Just past that tree—the bent and twisted one—the path splits. One way will lead us away from the battle. The other way leads northeast and should take us to where you want to be."

  "Good. I don't have much time left. I have to succeed."

  "This battle's not going anywhere soon, so I think there's plenty of time—."

  "No, you don't understand..." Her voice trailed off and she grabbed his arm. He stopped as she stepped close. "Jakob," she whispered near his ear. "I don't think we're alone."

  Listening to the forest's sounds, or lack thereof, he knew she was right. He'd been so focused on her, he hadn't paid attention to their surroundings, which wasn't like him. He swallowed the curse words, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. His sharp gaze, the one that had earned him his Resistance-given moniker of Eagle, took in everything. Under the thick canopy, heavy shadows played over the forest floor as he mentally stripped away the foliage, leaving the bare trunks.

  From the growing darkness under and around the thickest groups of trees, an ominous shape emerged, then separated. Tall and gaunt, the shadowy figure solidified until two glowing red eyes stared back at him. A deep growl filled the heavy silence as a monster appeared in front of them.

  "Is this real?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

  "Unfortunately, it is, Jakob, and there are three more behind him."

  "We're in trouble then."

  5

  Aleksandra

  Frightened and more than just a little annoyed when Jakob stepped in front of her, Aleksandra gripped the rifle strap in one hand while reaching over her shoulder with the other so the weapon wouldn’t fall and warn the beasts. The last thing she wanted to see was a massive dog. She was terrified of dogs, had been since being chased by one when she was little.

  Quelling her body's trembling, she focused on the werewolf, pushing away her fear. Jakob wouldn’t have time to raise his rifle, leaving her as their only hope. It was now or never...

  The growling increased, growing louder, and the black-furred leader moved one distorted foot closer, his shoulders curling forward as if he were about to pounce. Gripping the rifle, she stepped back, so she could raise it into position, knowing she would only have one good shot before all hell broke loose. She held her breath, steadying her hypersensitive nerves as the four werewolves stared them down. Their blood-red eyes made her stomach clench, but it was the strings of saliva dripping from the long white fangs causing her fear to skyrocket.

  The leader's leg muscles tensed, and she counted down from three. She got to two when his body dropped slightly and, with her gun aimed at the narrow ridge of bone between his eyes, her breath trapped in her lungs, he leaped into the air. Her site followed, but before he could finish the motion, she fired, the rifle's explosion echoing in the forest A hole appeared between its narrow-spaced eyes, and the beast fell to the ground.

  One of the other werewolves howled then charged forward. His lighter-brown coat almost blended in with the bark on the tree trunks as he loped toward them. She again held her breath. The moment he cleared the last tree, a mere three feet in front of Jakob, she pulled the trigger. Another resounding boom echoed in her ears as he, too, dropped almost on top of the first body.

  Stepping away from Jakob, the butt of the rifle still pressed against her shoulder and the third monster in her site, she stared into its beady, red gaze. "If you want to end up just like these two, then go ahead and charge us. I will let you know, though, I don't miss." The threat hung in the still-charged air as the two beasts made growling noises in their throats. The first one's gaze never left hers, but its growl seemed to answer the growls of the one behind it. Suddenly, the pitch changed, filling with anger and frustration.

  The back one dropped its paws to the ground and turned, loping back to wherever they'd come from. With reluctance in every move, the remaining werewolf turned his red glare to Jakob then back to her.

  "We have the advantage and will return in greater numbers," he said, his voice sounding like gravel in his throat. "Prepare for your deaths." His threat delivered, he reached for the two dead bodies and slung them over his shoulder as if they weighed nothing then loped off after the other beast.

  Her hands and arms shaking, she lowered the rifle and exhaled a long breath, trying to calm her unsteady nerves. Jakob turned to her, his light hazel eyes opened wide.

  "That was both unbelievable and heroic. You were amazing." He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair then pushed the hat back on. "What in the hell were those things?" With a quick glance in the direction they'd run, he shook his head. "I saw them with my own eyes...heard it speak...but my brain is telling me I imagined the whole thing."

  She laid her hand against his arm then moved it back to grip her rifle like a security blanket. "Believe me, you didn't imagine anything." She pointed the end of the barrel to the two blood pools on the ground in front of them. "There's your proof."

  His narrowed gaze met hers. "You don't appear as surprised as I am. How did you know about these things?"

  She shrugged. "I have friends in high places who seem to know everything about anything going on." A tingling sensation crawled over her and she shivered. Not sure what she was feeling or why, she studied the surrounding forest. The trees and bushes shimmered and began to fade. Her gaze met Jakob's, his eyes widening once again. His body jerked back as if he'd been pushed away from her. She saw the straining muscles in his arms and legs as he tried to get to her but couldn't move past whatever invisible barrier held him in place.

  "Aleksandra!" He raised his hand, reaching for her.

  Not knowing what was happening, and terrified, she reached for him. Her body felt light, as if unsubstantial, and she trembled uncontrollably. She gripped her rifle against her stomach as it clenched and nauseatingly rolled. Jakob faded along with the background, and she watched as everything turned black. She closed her eyes then snapped her eyelids open again when the nausea and vertigo increased. Misty clouds bathed her black surroundings. Every few seconds, a pop of pink or yellow shot through the mist
then disappeared. From the cool breeze fanning her warm face, she realized she was moving but wasn't sure how. Her body felt as if she were suspended in mid-air.

  A circle appeared in the distance and grew in size until she could make out a swirl of earth-tones. The colors separated, and she recognized the room with Freyja's amazing mirror. With a resounding pop, she stopped with an abrupt jolt and found herself staring at Freyja. Her eyes widened.

  "That was both exhilarating and terrifying, and I'm not sure I ever want to do it again," Aleksandra said with a loud exhale.

  Freyja chuckled. "Idunn says the same thing. She prefers the quicker route between worlds."

  "And what's the quicker route?" Aleksandra asked.

  "Using the Bifrost, or as the humans call it, the Rainbow Bridge. I will admit it is faster but also boring. One minute you're staring at Heimdall, the man in charge of it, and the next you've reached your destination."

  "I believe I would much prefer that, too."

  The goddess gave a slight shrug. "Sorry to disappoint you, but in order for you to travel by the Bifrost, I would have to reveal what we're doing to Heimdall, who has Odin's ear. If we want to succeed and stop Hitler then you get to journey the long way, which isn't terrible once you get used to it."

  Aleksandra sent her a small scowl. "That's what my mother told me when she prepared slimy fish for dinner. I still don't care for fish—of any kind."

  Freyja smiled, but it disappeared as she turned back to whatever she had been watching in the God's Glass. "I'm afraid we have other problems."

  "Why did you pull me out so soon? I wasn't able to kill enough division leaders so the northern salient could open up to let the Red Army through."

  "Oh, you succeeded there. Evidently, Hitler's werewolf units act as a backup to the Wehrmacht. They usually attack just after midnight, so no one sees them. This time was different, though. When you killed the two threatening you and Jakob, it gave the Russians enough time and leverage to break through and begin pushing back the Germans, just as we wanted."

  With her arms crossed, Freyja turned around, a serious expression on her solemn face. "I'm afraid we have another problem to contend with now. I know you grew up in Russia, but how well are you versed in your Japanese heritage?"

  "Quite well, actually. My mother made sure I understood the customs and language. I would be tested on her instructions each time we visited family. Why do you ask?"

  "You knew a man by the name of Yamamoto, did you not?"

  Hearing his name, she smiled. "Yes. Isoroku Yamamoto. My mother told me he earned the prestigious position as commander in chief of Japan's Combined Fleet in 1939."

  Freyja nodded. "Do you think he would give you an audience?"

  Aleksandra thought a moment. "I believe he would. He might not recognize me now, but when I was little, he lived with my uncle's family for a time. It is customary in Japan for the Nagaoka samurai to adopt the male child of another family to carry on their name if only daughters are born to them. To Westerners, it would seem strange to adopt a fully grown man, but to the samurai, it is a normal thing to do. I believe Yamamoto was adopted in 1916 at the age of 32 and took the Isoroku name, becoming my cousin." She thought back to that wonderful time. She went everywhere Isoroku did the summer she was five. “He came home for a visit while working as an attaché to Washington DC and took the time to show me a few samurai moves. He loved to paint and was quite talented. He even gave me a picture.

  "He was so patient with me. I followed him like a shadow, but he never complained. He drew me a beautiful picture of an albino pheasant rising to the sun and under each wing flew an eagle and an owl. I still have it...well, I did. It's with my things at the air base in Engels. It is the only possession I would dearly love to have."

  "Where is it exactly?"

  Aleksandra raised one eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "It's in a wooden box with my name carved on it. My father made the container for me when I was a child. I kept it under my bed, but it's probably not there now since I'm—since I'm dead."

  Freyja clapped her hand and a small red, bush-tailed squirrel appeared, floating in front of her face. She held out her arm, and the rodent perched on it like a bird. Aleksandra couldn't help but notice how the small creature's eyes seemed to glow, his expression reminding her of an ornery child, up to no good. The goddess made funny chirping noises. The rodent chirped a response then disappeared.

  "What was that?"

  "That was Ratatoskr—or Drill-Tooth as he has been nicknamed—a red squirrel who loves to antagonize the eagle perched in the heights of Yggdrasil, as well as Nidhoggr, the serpent dragon who winds itself around the tree of life's roots and continuously eats them. Drill-Tooth helps me from time to time in exchange for better insults to further his cause. It keeps him busy and out of trouble, which he tends to revel in."

  "Where did he go?"

  "To fetch your possessions, of course."

  No sooner had the words been spoken when the squirrel reappeared, her heavy box perched on its back. Drill-Tooth uttered a few chirps, and Freyja took the container off his back and chirped a response. The squirrel's eyes glowed in excitement, his gaze landing on Aleksandra.

  "Thank you, Drill-Tooth," Aleksandra said. "Here are two of my favorite insults you might like to use. The first is 'Keep rolling your eyes, you might eventually find a brain,' and the second is 'It's impossible to underestimate you.'"

  The squirrel let out a loud series of chirps and pops. Flopping onto his back in mid-air, he rolled around a couple of times then disappeared like he had before.

  "That was very nice of you, Aleksandra. It's not just any insult that makes Drill-Tooth laugh." Freyja carried her box to the table and set it down.

  Aleksandra hurried over and opened the lid, rearranging a few things before pulling out a small framed print. She studied the soft colored lines of the birds, her gaze finally moving to the gentle background filled with smudges of grays and browns creating a mountain range. A swathe of green near the base were trees, and the mountaintops were covered in white snow. She handed the drawing to Freyja.

  "The background is Mount Zaō, close to Isoroku's home. It's really a range of volcanos with immense beauty—at least that's what he told me. I have never seen it."

  Freyja held the small framed picture, angling it for better light. "It is very well drawn. He is a true artist." She handed the keepsake back to Aleksandra. "I am going to send you to 1941 Japan to seek an audience with him. You must convince him that a war on two fronts with both Russia and the Pacific is not in the emperor's best interest. To get history back on track, the United States needs to be brought into the war."

  "You don't want much from me, do you? Do you realize how difficult that will be? He is an important man in Japan. How am I supposed to get him to see me, much less listen to what I have to say? I'm a nobody."

  With a curled finger under Aleksandra's chin, Freyja tilted her head back. "You have more strength than you know, little one. Don't underestimate your abilities, especially now that they have been enhanced. You will succeed where no other could. Believe in yourself."

  Aleksandra stared into Freyja's purple eyes a moment then gave a resigned sigh. "Fine, but please send me quickly. I really don't want to feel nauseous when I get there."

  "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, then let it out. Taking your time, count backward from ten then open your eyes." Freyja's voice faded as she followed the goddess's instructions.

  Three, two, one... Opening her eyes, she looked around her in amazement. She stood on the front stoop of a modest home. Glancing around, she noticed the snow-covered street, filled with people bustling about their day, unconcerned about the winter weather. She shivered and crossed her arms over her cold body, pulling the heavy red-woven blanket that could only have been a gift from Freyja around her. She glanced back at the door, but before she could decide what to do, it opened, and she found herself staring at the familiar face of Isoroku.

  "Konnic
hiwa, Isoroku-san," she said in Japanese, bowing from the waist. "I'm sure you don't remember me. I was only a child the last time you saw me." She held out the small black-painted frame.

  He studied her a moment then took the picture, a slow smile widening his narrow face. His gaze met hers. "Little Bird."

  She laughed. "I haven't been called that since I was a young girl following in your shadow. I have missed you."

  He stepped aside, allowing her to enter his home. Stepping into the genkan, or front entryway, which was a lower floor area than the rest of the house, she unlaced her boots. She slipped them off and placed them heels out against the wall where two other pairs of shoes lay. Isoroku held out a pair of lady's slippers, which she put on and followed him up a step onto the raised flooring and into a spacious sitting room that was a nice combination of Western and traditional Japanese styles.

  He politely gestured for her to sit on a low couch and took his place in a chair across from her. "While attending Harvard in the United States, I discovered I liked their furniture, so when I came home, I convinced my wife to decorate our home in a more Western design. I had to compromise, of course, to keep her happy. Now, tell me what brings you to Japan and my home. Did your parents come with you? I would like to see them—it's been too long."

  She shook her head. "They are safe from the war. Their resting place is in a small village all but closed off from the world."

  Isoroku frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "As you know, our home was on the outskirts of the Russian city of Vladivostok. No one knows what happened—an accident perhaps—but my parents died in a fire that claimed several homes on their street."