“When it’s done, I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom of the castle road.”
Cec nods. “We’ll find a way to contact you if we’re unable to make the rendezvous.”
Anders’s attention lingers on Cec a tick before sliding to me.
“One last thing.” Anders hands me a rolled slip of paper. “I copied over the incantation for the Amulet of Amun, and wrote it phonetically as well. Could be helpful in a pinch.”
For a moment, I recall what it was like to be invisible. No one could see me—not even myself—yet everyone could still hear meand feel me. And then, to see all three of their auras… A fight against the chill scraping up my spine at the memory. I’d rather not repeat that so soon after.
I slip the paper into my pants’ pocket anyway. The Amulet of Amun, safely tucked away beneath my shirt, warms at the mention of itself. Anders deserves more credit: he never saw me steal the amulet back, but assumed I did, and so he took the time to write down the incantation for me. Something that could very well save my life, or the lives of Bes and Cec.
Would a spy do that?
“Thank you, Anders. For everything.”
He nods, a corner of his lips pulling up.
Everyone except Anders exits the car. Leaving my bag in the backseat, the only things I bring with me are my switchblade, the handgun in its thigh holster with a few extra bullets in my pocket, and the incantation. Each one a weapon I’m praying I won’t need.
Once the doors shut, Anders pulls back onto the main road and drives off. Cec stares at the Fiat’s taillights until they’re out of sight, brow wrinkled.
We trudge up the dark gray cobblestone leading to the front of the church in a weighted silence. Cec’s cane marking our every step. Thick, imposing trees line the edges, forming a loose canopy overhead and casting shadows on an already-dreary scene.
Unease fills my stomach, and not just because I’ll be stepping inside the walls of a church for the first time in years. I’m not afraid of going after Gurlitt; I’m more concerned about any others who might be inside the castle, or even the church. I can’t shake the feeling that Ingrid has somehow followed us again.
Shaking off my concerns, I glance ahead of us and grimace. It’s a church alright, and more holier-than-thou than it has any right to be.
The size and shape are average for a Catholic place of worship, which means there are likely vaulted ceilings inside. The structure’s uneven gray stones jut out at odd angles. A solid wooden door outlined in gold filigree sits atop half a dozen crumbling stone steps, and a white lamb lays down starkly above it. Small medieval windows adorn either side of the door and branch out around it.
Three square stained-glass windows crowd each other at the high center, their colors muted by the clouds. The one to my left appears to be Jesus on the cross—no surprise there—but I’m not sure about the one on the right. It features a man dressed in gold and a red cloak with a peasant kneeling beside his horse. The words in the middle one are written in German, so I’m shit out of luck there. I suppose I could ask Bes or Cec to translate it, but I don’t care enough to ask.
A clock tower looms behind the front façade. I squint to see what time it is—
Cec grabs my arm, and I nearly trip. “We’re being followed.”
I glance behind us, finding two men with dirty blonde hair, serious expressions, and black suits marching up the cobblestone. Emblazoned on their lapel is what I could swear to be an unfinished, blood-red Jerusalem star.
I face forward again. “Why do they have a Jerusalem star pinned to their suits?”
Bes glances at me, then behind us.
“That’s not a Jerusalem star; that’s a Kruckenkreuz,” he explains quietly. “These men belong to the newly-formed Vaterländische Union.”
Cec adds, “Otherwise known as the Liechtenstein Nazis.”
My stomach hollows. “Shit.”
Bes reaches over and places his free hand on my arm. “Keep calm. We have no idea if they know who we are. They could very well be walking to the church to pray.”
I nod, even as panic seizes my body—so much so I can’t see what’s in front of me except the church.God is laughing at me: for once, Ineedthe church.
Cec pats Bes’s shoulder in reassurance before gripping my arm. My heart pounds inside my chest, unable to comprehend what’ll happen to us if these men catch up to us and do in fact mean us harm.
Cresting the top of the road, Bes reaches for my hand. It’s warm and reassuring and wholly unexpected. Especially after the other night.
Steps away from our salvation, I search his gaze, finding only fear despite his previous statement.
Tightening my grip around Cec, I follow Bes when he takes us to the left around the church and down a short flight of stairs. This area of the church grounds opens up expansively, crumbling gravestones spread out across the bright green grass. The tips of the high mountains beyond remain concealed by thick, gray cloud cover.
