From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 165
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
"I know how scary this all seems. And it is. But the fact you're here is an enormous first step, which is often the hardest. Right now, it's all conjecture, but when you're actually out there doing the work and seeing the difference it makes, the fear will disappear. You'll only focus on the work in front of you, and you won't want to stop," Katya said. "All the pamphlets you've been printing, the doors you've been knocking on, it will be worth it, trust me. People want hope right now, and they don't want to feel alone. A rally is the perfect way to give them both."
And Baden-Baden was the ideal location for it. Far from the major cities, near the border with France and overflowing with tourists, there was no better site for what amounted to a dry run for later, larger demonstrations. It was going to be a shot across the bow of the other parties, an announcement to the country that its women and the witches among them were no longer going to remain silent and be dragged down into Hitler or Stalin's cesspool without a fight.
Even more, it was to be a clear, resonant declaration that they were unafraid. The Nazi experiments weren't a secret amongst Germany's witches, which made their choice to out themselves all the more remarkable. And imperative.
"We must provide a contrast," Helga said. "All the people are being offered is darkness and fear, when all they want is opportunity."
"Agreed," Katya said. "But you have to give them a concrete plan, and a means to execute that plan. They need to feel like they're doing something. Men like Hitler and Lenin succeed when people feel helpless. Give them tasks, and a goal to achieve. Together."
It had been years since Lenin's name had passed Katya's lips, and she took strength from having managed it without being sick or triggering any crippling flashbacks.
Helga, for her part, noticed. "What we face now is not terribly unlike what was faced in Russia in 1917. Take heed of what Katya has to say on the matter."
The spectre of the revolution descended on the room like a black fog, the shadows and contours darker and more smothering for the one who had lived it than those who had only read about it.
It frightened them all the same.
"Anger, frustration, helplessness… watching as nothing changed while everything fell apart…" Katya tried not to let her memory drift back to those months, but her body remembered. The fear and uncertainty claiming more and more of her mind, invading her sleep. The lack of food ravaging her health, withering her and her father day by day…
"It took one charismatic man to harness that and turn it into what happened. He said the right things in the right way, to people who were receptive. People who, in many ways, needed to hear what he had to say." Katya shuddered, gathering herself again. "You must be the ones to say it. You must offer the path forward, extend the hand to help the people onto their feet again. Inspire them, show them the way."
Katya looked about the faces around her, the ones who had so much faith in her to say and do the right thing, to be the ideal witch they'd all heard she was. They all seemed so young. It was impossible to believe that Katya had been their age when she was forced to flee Russia. How had she done it? Where had the strength come from? She wished she knew.
"Bravery is acting in the face of fear, not the absence of it. And most people don't get to choose when they do. But you do. You know the storm is coming. For many, it's already here. To turn it aside you have to work together, and be there for one another. I didn't build EVE alone." Katya looked over at Selene as she quietly observed the proceedings, then to Millie as she stood sentinel in the doorway. "And you can't rebuild Germany alone. This," she gestured around the room, "is the seed. The core. The beginning."
The Firebird, the Red Knight and the Sword of Stars were a formidable combination, one that would have been unthinkable in the history of witchkind to this moment.
And of no use to meet it.
"You've given us a great deal to think about. Thank you," said the one who would have to. Already, a thousand ideas were whizzing around behind Helga's eyes, albeit slowly and more deliberately than they had been before Katya spoke. "The APP delegation will be here in the morning. It's probably time we all got some sleep."
For that, there was wholehearted agreement.
A cool breeze floated in through Victoria's open window, the only sound in her lightless bedroom the tink of a water glass against her teeth. Four stories below, shadows flit in the darkness. It was a struggle not to join them.
Since they were born, the Furies had been treated like giant, furry babies, a trend that only intensified after Hekabe passed away. For as monstrous as they appeared to outsiders, they had been raised since birth as members of the family. Now they were one of the last lines of defence from said outsiders. Every night they had the run of the grounds unsupervised, free to roam behind 10-foot iron fencing topped with barbed wire, but Victoria had the sickening feeling that it wouldn't matter.
What they had was ample defence against prowlers and burglars; what they needed was a defence against the secret security service of the largest country in the world, headed by a paranoid, ruthless madman.
The Royal Navy was a good start.
As long as Victoria could remember, she had fought near nightly bouts of ruminating herself into insomnia. She had little doubt how tonight's was going to turn out, and Kiska's bed would be of no assistance.
It might even make things worse.
Victoria had to accept that she was going to be facing this, whatever this turned out to be, alone for now, and couldn't indulge in the fantasy of Katya's non-corporeal presence. She would return when she returned, there was no sense scuttling such an important mission on a hypothetical based on some second- or third-hand rumour that could be years in coming to fruition, if it did at all.
What did they tell the students? Anything? And what of Elise and Ivy? They knew Alex's secret, surely they deserved to hear of the possible consequences of keeping it.
Didn't they?
What would Victoria even say in such a scenario? That the 'maybe' that they had all been living with for the last decade was… what? Slightly less maybe? There wasn't enough information to even begin quantifying any sort of probability, which only compounded her frustration.
She needed data. Numbers. Facts.
The, as Pretoria was fond of saying, 'squishy' margins of Victoria's life were growing uncomfortably large. Her every moment with Katya saw her flailing her way blindly down paths uncharted, and now that this possible threat to everything Victoria held dear seemed to come down to managing the potential reactions of others based on how things seemed or felt was maddening. And intimidating.
How did Katya do it?
Her leadership, as far as Victoria saw it, was effortless. She always knew what to say to whom and could be devastatingly charming while doing it.
Eight years of school had taught Victoria nothing on how to prepare for the life she would be living afterward.
To hear a knock on the front door at such an hour came as a relief. She could sense that the Manifest awaiting her wasn't Elise, so shutting and locking the window with magic, Victoria strode barefoot into the living room to find out which of the remaining options it was. "Who is it?"
"It's Alex. Can you talk?"
Victoria answered by way of opening the door. Alex was swaddled in a soft blue Coolie coat, hair hidden under a plain sleeping cap to preserve her Marcel waves. "Of course, come in. Would you like anything?"
"No, thank you." Alex paced around the coffee table but didn't sit down. When she turned to Victoria, it was with puffy, hooded eyes that made her look like she'd just stepped out of a boxing ring. "I can't sleep."
"Understandably. I, too, have found it elusive. What of Zoya?"
"Asleep downstairs," Alex answered absently. Her true concern was very present. "Vita… I'm not all right."
It was only when Victoria sat down on the sofa did Alex follow suit, sinking into the cushion beside her. She remained hunched and huddled, staring out at nothing.
"If something happens… if Zoya's right… it'll be my fault."
For that, Victoria had a ready answer. "No, it won't. You mustn't believe that."
"But if they come, it will be for me."
This time, it was Victoria's gaze that found the past. "For all our histories we have had 'the day they come for us' hanging over our heads. As witches, as women with independent minds who reach beyond our station, women who…" she cleared her throat of sudden tightness, "…harbour affection for other women."
A grim smile struggled at Alex's lips, but faltered almost immediately.
"There will always be a reason because there will always be fear. Do you remember Walter Huxley?"
"I can hardly forget," Alex said.
"He came for the Longs. Do you blame them for what happened that day?"
"Of course not."
"Precisely," Victoria said. She turned fully to her youngest sister. "Fear. Jealousy. Resentment. If not one reason, then another. I have faced it. Katya, Millie. Niamh. We have all spat in the eye of fearful men and earned their ire. All you have done is survive. Dared to rebuild that which was stolen from you. You flourished. Lived. You chose that, Alex. There are many who would seek to harm a woman for such temerity."
"But it's so personal. We only face this because I am here. The girls, Ivy, Carice. You. Katya. Pretoria…" Alex dropped her face into her hands. "Oh, Pretoria…"
An entirely new kind of concern seized Victoria. "What about her? Has something happened?"
Alex shook her head, only parting her hands enough to speak. "I never told her." Shame and regret tussled for dominance over her features as she threw herself back into the sofa so she only had to face the judgment of the ceiling. "I wanted to. I came close so many times, but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't burden her that way. Yet it still feels like a betrayal. She was the last to arrive, and it took her a long time to get over feeling like an outsider. If she ever finds out, she may think she was right. God forbid it's the hard way."
"No-one who wasn't present that day knows, Alex. Carice doesn't know, either." As far as Victoria knew, Selene hadn't told any of the witches on the Continent. It was a cataclysmic secret that could risk starting a war; Victoria couldn't conceive of a reason to expand the knowledge of it beyond those who were in the room when it was revealed.
"Carice isn't one of my closest friends." Alex swallowed something unpleasant. "I don't know what to do, Vita. You were the first to declare you wanted me here and damn the consequences. The consequences are here now."
"We don't know that. And even if we did, my feelings haven't changed. We are a family, Alex, and I won't have you excommunicated for something that isn't your fault."
Alex tore her gaze from the ceiling and pinned it on Victoria. "But if something happens because of me, my staying here is my fault."
"If 'something' happens, those responsible will be held to account."
"Doesn't matter if I'm dead. Or worse, someone else is."
Victoria set her hand on Alex's shoulder. "This spiralling paranoia will do you no good. That is how they win without a drop of effort beyond a few whispers. Zoya brought with her no evidence beyond that."
The past came to roost behind Alex's eyes. "Hearsay and fear can do a lot of damage."
"This I acknowledge. But they must have tinder to spread effectively. Right now, only three people in this facility are aware of what Zoya has said, and two of them are having this conversation. All that is required right now is that you and I maintain our wherewithal and our vigilance. Address problems as they arise, don't make them up out of whole cloth."
Alex shook her head. "It was a warning, Vita. Warnings should precipitate actions, shouldn't they? Some kind of pre-emptive self-defence?"
"I will not insult you by pretending I know more about mistrust and betrayal. I will not presume to draw on experience I don't have. Your fear comes from a very real place, and I understand that." Another lesson Victoria had learned from Katya, earned after many a long night spent talking through the pain that would never fully lose its grip on either of them. "I only ask that whatever actions it prompts you to take be done with discretion and my consent. Our students are still adjusting to this place and are far from home. Panic, suspicion and conspiracy could tear everything we have to ribbons. Quickly."
The pool of illumination provided by their witchlights did little to keep their surroundings free of shadows. "None of this could happen if Sveta was here."
"Yes. But she's not."
They were on their own.
It was astonishing how much witches could talk, Millie thought. The need for translation had made it seem even longer than the eight hours it had already gone on. Witches, being witches, had planned for the meeting to last as deeply into the night as it had, and there was food and accommodation waiting for the ones responsible for their physical safety after long, tedious shifts spent entirely on their feet.
Especially on a blustery night like tonight. The wind whipped away most sound coming from below, dulling one of her most importance senses. Trying to hear over it left her even more tired than normal, and she doubted the oak tree scratching at the wall was going to help her get any rest.
The attic EVE was using in lieu of a hotel was cramped and musty but easy to secure, since it had as many entrances as it did lightbulbs (one). Millie pulled up the ladder behind her and locked it, leaving her alone with Niamh, who rose from her cot after a well-earned respite.
"Morning already?" she asked with a stretch and a yawn.
"Technically," Millie replied. She was starved, and wasted no time tucking into the meal she'd brought up with her. She could get used to German sausages, and the bread wasn't half-bad either, even if it was black. The cheese on the other hand, well. Few were more particular about that than those who hailed from the British Isles, and she was no exception.
Niamh let her eat enough to tamp down the hunger pangs in peace, but once the second slice of bread vanished she cracked all 10 knuckles to draw Millie's attention.
"Do I get to hear the bad news now?" Millie asked around a mouthful of bread. God, she was tired.
"I'll make it quick: if we get out of this place without bloodshed it'll be a feckin' miracle."
The bread might as well have been concrete for how heavily went down. "What happened?"
Niamh reached into a satchel propped up against the wall. "It wasn't an accident we found Lucie only a few miles from here. You heard of Badensburg?" she asked, producing a manila envelope.
"Castle, right?"
The confirmation came in a stack of photographs.
"That's where they were taking her."
Millie brightened her witchlight to get a better look at pictures that showed a distinctly Germanic-style castle built on a hill, with pointed roofs against the snow. A stone bridge looked to be the only way in or out, connecting it to a neighbouring hill over a steep valley. Both ends terminated in gates—the one on the castle side was easily twice Millie's height and made of solid metal. In every photo it was closed, along with all the windows. The only sign of any kind of habitation was the tendril of smoke curling out of one of the chimneys.
"When Lucie's kidnappers caught wind that we were in the area, they dropped into that shack to get as much out of her as they could before we put them in the ground. This is where they were headed."
Unable to stand the sight of the photos trembling in time with her fingers, Millie tossed them back to Niamh. "How did they know about us?"
"No idea. I mean to find out, but that's for later, 'cause it gets worse. You notice all the windows shut up? Not supposed to be, according to the locals. In the summer, that place hosts weddings almost every weekend. There hasn't been one there since Christmas."
The fat in the sausages all congealed into a solid lump in Millie's stomach.
"And it wasn't just Lucie. Most of the cases in the binder Josephine sent were conducted in the dungeons. I didn't find out 'til I got here." Niamh clicked her tongue a few times before hiding the photos away again. "I don't know if Helga knew when she chose this place, but if she did, she is either the bravest or stupidest witch I've ever encountered in my many years."
"It sounded perfect on paper," Millie said. It was the strongest defence she could think of, unwilling as she was to believe that Helga was the latter.
A stiletto glinted briefly in the witchlights as Niamh checked it before sliding it back into its sheath on her ankle. "Aye, but if Hitler and his goons get wind that we're here, I have a feeling it's going to show up in a lot of newspapers the next day."
"Should we cancel the rally?" Millie asked.
Niamh tousled her short, coal-black hair. "We do, they win. We don't, people could die. But it's Helga's movement, her country, her choice. No matter what, though, I'm not leaving 'til we find out what's happening in that castle."
"You want to break into a castle?"
Niamh snorted. "You think I've never broken into a castle before? That's the easy part. Getting any captives out alive and then burning it to the ground without getting caught… that's hard."
Now fully dressed for battle, the Irish Avenger pushed herself to her feet and hovered over Millie. "I know you gave up this life, love. I'm sorry you've been dragged into it again. Truly. But you'll excuse me if I thank God you're here."
Millie didn't look up. "My responsibility is to Kat first. I came to protect her, not go haring off to run down rumours. I didn't come here to kill people."
Kneeling down at Millie's side, Niamh draped her arms over her knees and brought herself eye level. The grey in them spoke of storms. "You never used to stand up to me like that." She smiled. "I'm proud of you, girlie."
With a quick kiss on Millie's forehead, Niamh snapped to her feet again. "I won't ask you to do anything that would put anyone downstairs in danger, or risk Helga's movement. But if trouble finds us, I expect you to answer it with all proportionate force. Fair?"
Flashes of the grisly photos Millie had seen in that hateful binder burst into her consciousness, and she would have sworn Lucie's screams still echoed in the forest outside. Millie forced them aside, her features hardening. "That, I can promise."
