Plura Ater Nox

Chapter 33

Two surely privates were enjoying a smoke. The first flicked the remains of the cigarette to the ground. "Hey, you know that wench that Andreas hangs on to; I've heard rumours about her."

"Oh, and that would be?" the second replied, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. He had been wondering what the deal with that woman was. She was the nastiest thing as far as skirts went. She scared the living crap out of him. She had a glare that made him pee his pants in sheer fear.

"She's apparently a spy for the krauts. She's sleeping with Andreas in order to get information. She has a man back in France that she is attached to, who is an officer with those bastard Nazis. She also murdered a poor Jewish bitch in front of Andreas and some British officer using a cyanide suicide pill."

"And Andreas is letting her get away with this?!" the second private asked, staring incredulously at his friend. "This is such horse dung! This has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Andreas may have the brains of a bayou hick, but he's not that gullible!"

"Then why has she seduced him?!" the private retorted, as he pulled out a pack of Marlboros and whipped out a slender cigarette. He pulled out his box of matches. Balancing the cigarette between his lips, he added, "He's a dumb Creole from the bayou, who is easily seduced by a can house chippy."

"She looks the part. She's cheap as they come. I bet I could lay her as easily as the next bastard. She's got that lay me look about her."

"And you've got that dead but you don't it look around you." She purred, as she slithered up behind them. She had both hands raised, each crackling with lightening. "You know too much, so therefore, you can't be allowed to live."

Both privates gasped in shock as the electricity surged through their bodies, sending them each into spasms of shock. Each twitched and writhed, convulsing under the power of the lightening, before falling to the floor, dead.

Aimée snorted disdainfully. "Smart boys, but too easy to dispose of… If the others had been this easy, Andreas would completely clueless." She smirked to herself. "At least I have a tool to stop him from ever knowing…"

She thought of the skill she had carried over from her last life. It was the Bouchi Spell. She had control of its deadly power. She could make it work in her favour. She had already given Johann a positive dose of the medicine, while turning it against Andreas, weakening him so that she could mould him and manipulate him. She was subtly controlling what he knew about her.

She had a hold on him and his men. She always took care of those who voiced scepticism. She was swift about disposing of those who posed a threat. The only ones she hadn't got to were those who had conveniently defected.

Dusting off her hands, she smirked to herself, admiring her swift work. She reminded herself that she should only do this briefly and leave the scene as quickly as possible so that no one would suspect her. She had learnt her lesson from when Séamus had nearly blown her cover.

She knew how to cover her tracks and she was close to achieving her ends…

'He's such a stupid little Yankee. If only he knew I could care less about his pathetic existence.' She thought in amusement, as she wandered down the hall of the barracks. She was alone with just her thoughts. No one in the ranks would ever know.

Her eyes narrowed hatefully. 'Except for the three that have escaped my wrath… they will pay dearly for that. Their lives shall be the price tag on crossing me and putting a freeze on my plans.'

Turning, she sharply pivoted on her heel and headed to her room. She had a radio call to make to her home base and grudgingly inform Johann of this fact. She felt that she would be putting her life on the line, for the Nazis weren't patient people in the site of failure. They didn't take it.

She didn't want to report in, but she felt it was her duty. She wore the Swastika, a distinguishing symbol of honour and prestige. She felt that when Johann had given her such a task that she must have been more than just a small Parisian girl if she had earned it. She knew that if she it publicly displayed on her attire; she'd be shunned and taken prisoner.

"Aimée, I need to speak to you."

Yelping, she turned, coming face to face with Captain Andreas, who wore a grim expression, his sapphire blue eyes staring down coldly at her. She stared back as she regained her composure. Pushing her shoulders back, her pride beaming, she replied, "why?" Her tone was curt.

"I prefer to speak to you in your room." He replied, taking her by the elbow, aiming to escort her. He kept his sights dead ahead. "I'm not about to jump to conclusions, but several of my men have come to be wit statements about you, which were less than flattering. I frankly didn't believe much of it until the mysterious and frequently occurring deaths of my men increased."

He stopped at the door, opening it and leading her. He indicated for her to take a seat. He walked over to the small chest and opened it. "I was quite shocked at what it turned up, Miss Beauregard. Now, I'm going to give you a chance to confess or I will lay down an accusation and deal with you how I see fit."

"I have nothing to confess." She replied with a level tone and a straight face.

He turned and held up the offending item, with the blatant Swastika standing out. "Then how to you explain this? This certainly is nothing like Miss St. Pierre wore when Stonewall and I caught her fleeing France and coming into Ireland. She had on the military uniform. This is more suitable to the female secretarial staff serving the krauts.

"Now, I would have assumed that someone might have planted it here to frame you, but, when the mysterious deaths of my men began to pick up pace, I took note of something, a chi. I felt a certain chi hit a high point then die down. It didn't seem to be that of Stonewall. It wasn't Kennedy or Dallas, or even Mackenzie in his weaker moments. Marshall has honour and Faulkner has better things than to kill people, so it left one person, you."

"You can't prove that when these men died that I did it. For all you know, I could been doing target practice or defending myself." Aimée replied calmly.

Captain Andreas sighed, as he held the uniform in hand, his sights fixated on her. "Do I look stupid enough to believe that horse dung, woman?"

"If you have to ask, yes." She replied shortly.

"I know you think I'm a fool if I have been falling for your underhanded tactics, but it ends here. You have two choices, Miss Beauregard, you can either work as an informative for me or you can cling vainly to your loyalties to those bloody krauts and be treated as such – become a POW."

"And if I choose neither?!" she challenged.

"Then you will be dealt with accordingly. I don't take well to traitors. I'm an American and we believe in loyalty to one side, and your tactics are befitting to that of a yellow-bellied chicken. Now woman, make your choice wisely." Captain Andreas replied with coldness that he hadn't known since his days as Seiryuu Seishi Nakago. He had drawn from the holster at his waist his pistol and had cocked it at the woman he loved. He didn't want to, but he didn't want to be played for a patsy.

"You do have a point." Aimée replied coolly, as she closed her eyes, but then she opened them half way, malice dancing seductively in the grey mass of the orbs. "But what kind of man points a gun at an unarmed lady? A coward, so, really, you aren't much better than me."

The captain recoiled as though he had been slapped. Her tone had been so deceivingly level. Her gaze was chillingly cool. It seemed to more suitable to him that it did to her. Her words had been succinct, yet at the same time sharp and venomous.

"The more you continue to point that gun at me, the more it emphasises your cowardice. You are truly no better than a 'kraut', as they wielded their guns in such a way when they took by force the hospital in Dunkirk. They shot a defenceless girl because she looked at them."

He hesitated, contemplating if he should indeed lower his gun or if he should call her bluff and keep it up. He knew that he would put himself at risk, if she was indeed an agent for the enemy. He had feelings for her, he'd admit that, but his honour and duty conflicted with these feelings. He needed a solution that would suit his needs.

A nasty smirk crossed his lips. "Fine, if you want to play games, then you'll play by my rules or become a POW in the allied camps. You want to call my bluff? Then you'll be serving your time accordingly. However, should you decide to play along, I'll keep your secret, including the one as to who caused the deaths of four of my privates."

"Are you mad?" she scathingly seethed through clenched teeth, as she glared hatefully at him. "I will not play by your rules, nor will I become a POW. You're ill of mind if you think I'll play by your rules. I've had worse than your pistol pointed at my head throughout the duration of the war."

"Perhaps we are all a little mad. Who's to say none of us are right of mind? There is nothing in this world to say otherwise. War drives people to do deeds they wouldn't dare contemplate in peacetime." Captain Andreas purred, venom dripping from his voice. A thin smile caressed his lips. "Do you dare push me to my limits? Do you dare call my bluff now?"

"I still will. You never could hurt a girl or a woman. You only used mental and emotional manipulation to gain what you wanted. You had too much of a soft spot for that kind of deed." Aimée retorted, as she sat calmly, staring back at him, daring him with her eyes.

He smirked. "You are certainly wide-eyed and bushy-tailed with optimism, aren't you? So, you're going to call my bluff and state that because you're a girl and I'm a man that I won't hurt you? Who's the foolish one here? Not me…"

He skilfully twirled the pistol around his index finger, keeping his gaze trained firmly on Aimée, his icy blue eyes never leaving her as he decided on his next move. Tossing the pistol up, he caught in his left hand with unmatched grace and aimed it, firing. The first bullet sailed by her temple, grazing the skin. She let out a shrill yelp and fell to the floor, lying on her back, staring at him in shock.

Before neither said anything more, he fired again, catching her in the shoulder. He still held his position, but he now seemed to be shadowed as he loomed over her menacingly, a thin trail of smoke rising up from the calibre of the pistol, still being held steadily.

She stared aghast at him, unable to say anything. She was speechless; her throat dry in sheer shock. The fact that he had actually fired on her hurt more than the bullet that was lodged deeply in her right shoulder, having stopped short of shattering the bone. Her breathing was hard and raspy, her eyes filled with untamed wildness.

"Vous... vous... je vous déteste... "she breathed out heavily, her tenor contemptuous, her eyes filled with a fiery glint of hatred.

"And I love you too." Captain Andreas replied dryly as he gracefully replaced the pistol back in the holster at his waist. He took a step over to where she lay, staring up at him loathingly. He didn't remove his gaze from her. He then added in a low ominous voice. "You couldn't call my bluff, could you, Soi?"

Her eyes burned with tears of indignation as she brought a hand up to the wound in her shoulder. She didn't have anything else to say; all words escaped her, but her disposition was evident in her gaze.

"This ends here… You will now pick wisely or else…"

Her silence echoed.

"Then, game over, Soi."

A gun shot rang out…

~~~~

His crew had landed shortly after that of the volunteer force under the command of Brennan, Séamus and Jeremiah, the three rebels with a cause. He had wanted to join the boys; he felt there was honour in their motives. He had been discrete in his mutiny away from Captain Russell Stonewall and that American Captain. He didn't want to risk anything merely to serve righteous honour.

He also felt it would be betraying his dear friend and fellow veteran, General Dwight Marshall, especially since the man placed so much trust with Captain Stonewall. Lt. Faulkner couldn't do the same thing. He had placed blind trust in his leader during the Great War and watched too many of his friends go to a bloody death in the mud of No-Man's Land and die without being found and without a proper and honourable Catholic burial.

He didn't wish to underestimate his friend, but he felt that the sheer determination and faith that these boys had in their own men, who were only volunteers, fighting for what they believed in, was worth more than military power and victory. It had its own fraternal merits; it brought back memories of his years at the monastery. They were close and did what it took to ward off evil – in their case; it was the mythical satanic evil of the testament. For these boys, it was the evil that had pervaded every aspect of German life and had soaked up all of Europe into its web of disease. This evil needed more than the prayers and rituals of exorcism, it needed a dose of strategic plans and the raining hell of bullets and bombs.

At the moment he stood with Jeremiah, Brennan and Séamus, as the four were checking over the supplies list and the strategic positioning lists that they had on hand. Jeremiah was pointing out that there were some spots that would be risky for their forces to take up a position in because they'd be sitting ducks.

"Something else I found quite peculiar, except for the lack of Nazi presence, these two kids that are hiding out here around the town. I saw a boy, probably about thirteen or fourteen. He was attired in drab wear. He panicked when he saw me. I saw him to a girl that was maybe sixteen. He spoke a foreign language that wasn't even French; it sounded eastern." Jeremiah reported.

"Really? What else? You know, no da, they might be of Jewry and on the run from the Nazis." Lt. Faulkner replied after a moment of thoughtful contemplation. "It would seem right, especially if they are young and not locals.

"Do you remember where he went?" the lieutenant added after another pause. "I have a spell that may allow us to talk to them through a medium of sorts. I haven't cast it in a long time, but it might still work."

"But how do we approach them if they indeed fear us?" Séamus pointed out.

The other three gazed at each other quizzically, trying to think of an answer to that. Séamus did raise a good point. If the boy had been jostled by the presence of Jeremiah, how would he and his sister react to the group of four that would come for them? Would they welcome them, or would they seem them in the same light as they saw the Nazi-Germans?

"There is only one to know, we go and find them." Jeremiah declared, much to the astonishment of the other three, who never expected such a demonstration of authority from the young man, who normally kept to himself and only spoke up to defend himself.

They hadn't really noted, but they stood at the foot of a small hill, and at the top was the young man that had seen Jeremiah and freaked out. The kid said nothing as he turned to flee, however, much to his misfortune, he caught his foot on the root of the tree that was near him and his ankle twisted under him, causing him to cry out as he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

Turning his head, Lt. Faulkner squinted at the top, noticing a boy. He at first thought it was a local boy. He motioned for the others to follow him. They would see to the lad. After all, it seemed the boy had been injured. By what, he couldn't tell on mere hindsight.

Panicking as he watched the four men approached, Achan anxiously tried to free his foot, but only caused an electrical shock of pain to sear through the nerves. He knew he was trapped. He feared that these were Nazis disguised as allied soldiers. His eyes quivered in fear. He lay frozen, paralysed by the paranoia that consumed him.

Stuttering in Yiddish, he cried out, "Don't hurt me!"

Séamus arched an eyebrow at the lieutenant, who was casting a spell, while Brennan held the boy still and Jeremiah worked to free the boy's foot without causing any further injury.

Lowering his hand, Lt. Faulkner turned and knelt in front of the boy. He held out his hand to the lad, as he used the spell he had just cast to speak in the same tongue as the boy. "We won't hurt you. We're on your side. We're here to help you. I'm Lieutenant Marcus Faulkner. The one who is holding you down is Brennan Mackenzie, the one freeing your foot is Jeremiah Dallas and the one behind me is Séamus Kennedy, who is heading the small volunteer force that is here to drive the Nazis from Calais."

Achan wearily gazed around then pulled his leg back as Jeremiah freed him. He again gazed at the faces of the four men. He quickly realised that three of them were only a few years older than his sister. The oldest one, obviously in his late thirties, seemed familiar, and then it clicked. His eyes went wide in recognition. "Chi-Chichiri…"

"Da!" the lieutenant smiled warmly and flashed the "V" sign – the sign for victory.

"And you're…" he turned to Brennan.

"Tasuki; the one n' only!" Brennan declared happily.

The twins looked at one another, feeling lost here. Obviously this was a Seishi that neither one of them had ever met. It must be one of the Genbu or Byakko Seishi…

Achan held out his hand and accepted Lt. Faulkner's. "You obviously remember me, I'm Tomite. Now I'm better known as Achan Stern."

"Where are you from?" Lt. Faulkner queried. "Is there anything that would help us in the fight against the Nazis? Anything you know will be helpful in bringing those who committed crimes to face justice."

"Vienna, Austria. I lived there with my parents. My father was drafted by the Austrian government for forced labour and the rest of us were shipped off to Krakow, where my mother worked for Herr Oscar Schindler. She was one of those listed because one of her brothers worked for Herr Schindler. We would have been free but the SS stormed our house. The leader of the small band was Agent Albrecht Keplar, who is better remembered as Hikitsu. I don't remember the other's name, my sister Arielle does. Anyway, they murdered my mother in her sleep, and they thought they killed Arielle and me, but we narrowly escaped because she used an illusion to allow us to slip out into the night."

The four could only listen in horror. Somehow this only seemed to be the surface of the truth. Just this alone had sent chills of terror through their spines. They didn't dare contemplate the horrors that could have been seen and experienced. Even Lt. Faulkner, who had seen the horrors of the Great War couldn't possible phantom what the youths had seen.

A young girl, who Achan recognised immediately as his sister Arielle, ran over quickly to protect her brother. She knelt next to him and gazed at the four men with distrust and in Austrian-German asked, "what do you want?" Her words are glazed with a Yiddish accent.

"We're here to free France and Europe from the Nazis. We're part of a much larger invasion force consisting of the English, the Scots, Irish, Canadians, Americans, French, Australians and others. We're from Ireland and we came to secure Calais." Jeremiah explained. "You're safe now."

The two didn't appear to trust the four men, but they found comfort in their words. There was sincerity in the words spoken. The simple guerrilla militia wear the three young men wore and the British Armed Forces badges on the jacket of Lt. Faulkner's jacket brought some security.

Arielle was the first to speak after a moment of silence. "Can we trust you?"

"We can't say if you will, we can't say no. We won't make any promises, but we can try and keep you safe until back ups arrive and secure the outpost. For now, we can house you up in an abandon factory or home until further developments." Séamus suggested, as he held out his hand to help up the young lady, while Brennan and Jeremiah hoisted Achan up, making sure he didn't put any weight on the twisted ankle.

"We have medical supplies. Our medic will set that ankle, and help you two get cleaned up. There may also be a river nearby where you can clean up. I think we may also have extra clothing we may be able to spare." Lt. Faulkner explained, as his gazed moved quickly over the brother and sister. "We have a couple of extra men who will be able to watch over you two, as well as any other civilians we come across. We can also equip you with small arms, so you may defend yourselves."

This appeased the siblings, whose eyes and faces glowed with gratitude. Finally…someone who would help them. Four people who would go out of their way to help them…

Author's Notes: I bet no one saw this coming. I felt I should do something to redeem poor Captain Andreas. As for the second group, I didn't think it was nice to leave the poor siblings stranded, so I decided to give them some help. After all, it did happen during the war, there was some hope for the Jewry when the allied forces came onto the main land. ^_^