Chapter Four: A Nightmare Come True
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Fans? I have Fans? YAY! Thanks so much for the reviews Psycho Llama and Blu Embyr! Terribly sorry about taking so long to update, but school has been busy and long chapters take a while to write. My next chapter will probably not be this long, as I know how it drives people crazy when their favorite stories aren't updated for a while. As always, ideas, questions, and comments are more than appreciated. Tell me what you think people! Anyways, the moment you've been waiting for: Erica meets Ilsa and Kroenen. Also, Kroenen starts spouting philosophy, which, like it sounds, is funny! Please Review!
Ilsa stood in front of the stone prison, the dust from the dirt road still settling from her hasty arrival in her car. But she hadn't come alone, she had an escort of two other vehicles besides her own. She wanted to make absolutely sure that nothing happened to that girl, whether it was from some outside source, or if the girl made some foolish attempt at escape.
She strode towards the doors accompanied by two soldiers from one of the other cars. As she reached the doors, one of the soldiers quickly sprang forward and held it open for her. Haughtily, she swept through without so much as a glance in his direction.
In much the same manner she entered the stone room with the desk that Erica had been in only hours before.
Hearing the smart tapping of shoes on the stone floor as Ilsa walked in, Schenck looked up from the paperwork he had been doing about the girl. He had been waiting for this moment with apprehension. Ilsa Haupstien was not only a high ranking member in the military, she was also one of the top leaders of the Occult, of which he was a member. She was, in the very least, dangerous. She was perilous enemy, and a treacherous person to trust. Beyond that, she could be very generous with rewards, or, alternately, after she had used you to get what she wanted, kill you. And that alone was enough to make Schenck almost humble in front of her.
"Ah, Ilsa Haupstien." he said as she reached his desk. "How good to see you again. I contacted you as soon as —"
"Yes, thank you for alerting me so quickly." Ilsa said, interrupting him. "You have been most helpful. Now, if you don't mind, I have very little time to waste. Fetch the girl, and turn over any information you have concerning her."
He was just about to argue, when he saw that dangerous glint in her ice blue eyes. That got the message across. He knew what she meant: no one was to know that the girl had ever been here, let alone existed.
"Very well," Schenck said, conceding defeat. He shuffled the papers on his desk and put them in a folder. "What about my men? The ones that arrested her?"
"Take care of them." Ilsa said coldly. "Now give that to me. And you would do well to forget about this incident, because if any information gets out, if I hear so much as a whisper of a rumor, I will be forced to take care of you."
Schenck swallowed hard, obviously afraid, despite his renown as a courageous military officer. What he was most afraid of was her last statement, which in the simplest terms meant that if anything got out, he would receive a very swift and bloody visit from a certain top assassin. He held out the folder to her.
Ilsa smiled as she took the folder. Her eyes flicked to the charred wood on the edge of Schenck's desk. She raised an eyebrow.
"Having difficulty with your latest prisoner?" she asked.
"Not for much longer. She's all yours. The soldier outside the doors will bring her to you." he said.
Ilsa nodded as she turned on her heel and left, the heels of her boots tapping on the stone floor. The doors closed behind her. Schenck slumped back in his chair and sighed with relief.
Erica lost track of time as she sat against the wall of the cell, doing nothing but thinking. Hours went by, and she didn't notice. Eventually, she was lulled into a doze by the warmth of the sun streaming in through the barred window.
Sometime later, she heard footsteps approaching outside the cell door, and she looked up. The sunlight coming through the window was dimmer than she remembered. The morning had passed into the afternoon.
The footsteps paused outside her cell and she heard the jingling of keys. Then there was a click as the door to her cell was unlocked. Quickly, she stood up, feeling it was better to face whatever was coming on her feet.
The wooden door swung open, revealing a soldier.
"They've come for you." he stated.
"Who has?" she asked in confusion. Of all things, that was the last thing she had been expecting him to say.
"You must be very important for her to be here in person to collect you." the soldier said, looking her up and down and not answering her question.
Somehow, the soldier's comment wasn't very reassuring.
"Come with me." he said.
As he led her through the corridors, Erica couldn't help but feel that her bad situation had just gotten much, much worse. They've mistaken me for someone else, she thought, There's no way anyone could know about me, I wasn't even here until a few hours ago. I just hope whoever I've been confused with hasn't done anything— But that was stupid. Of course the person had done something to irritate the Nazis. Otherwise someone wouldn't be here looking for her. At least the mystery about my scar is solved, the person they've mistaken me for must have one just like it. I just hope they're not going to kill me. Another thought occurred to her. I wonder how hard it would be to escape?
She glanced over at the young soldier walking beside her. He wasn't all that much bigger than her, the only significant advantages he had was the gun on his belt — and the military training he had.
Oh yeah, she thought, forgot about that training. And the gun could be a problem. I'll have to get that away from him first.
She also noticed the keys on his belt. If she could knock him out and take the keys and the gun, she just might be able to get out of here. Like you have any idea how to knock someone out, she thought, mentally laughing at herself, But then again, you never know until you try. Trying to be as discreet as she could, she curled her hands into fists — or, at least she tried. The burned skin on her palms instantly protested, sending lancing pain up her arm. It was all she could do not to yell. Her eyes watered. If I'm going to do this it'll have to be now, she told herself. But just thenthey walked into the stone entrance hall. Standing there waiting for them was a woman and two Nazi soldiers.
The woman turned and looked directly at Erica, the woman's eyes darting down to the scar on Erica's arm.
"Here you are at last. We've been looking for you." the woman said, turning her ice blue eyes on Erica.
"Looking for me? How could you be looking for me? Because I know you've gotten me confused with someone else." Erica said. Then, she got an idea, it was worth trying, even if it made her look crazy. "I wasn't in Germany or even this decade until a few hours ago."
At these words the soldiers in the entrance hall looked confused, but the woman had a knowing smile on her face. "Everything will be revealed in time," the woman said, "I am Ilsa Haupstien. I'm here to collect you."
Ilsa Haupstien, Erica observed, was a pretty, if severe looking Arian woman. She noticed Ilsa's clothing, a military uniform. I thought women generally weren't allowed to join the military, Erica thought, And what was with the 'it will all be revealed in time'? And why didn't she look at me like I was crazy? Could she really know something about me being here? This is just too freaky. Maybe when we go outside I can run for it. Somehow, Ilsa seemed to know what Erica was thinking, because she said:
"If you try to escape, I will not hesitate to shoot you."
Ilsa said it as calmly as if she were talking about nothing more interesting than the weather. That was also when Erica noticed the handgun hidden in Ilsa's coat. There goes that plan, Erica thought, I wouldn't get very far running over open ground.
"But then again, even if you did manage to escape, we'd have no difficulty finding as you do stand out, due to your height and your, ahem, clothes." Ilsa said, looking askance at Erica's attire.
Erica looked down at herself. That would explain why everyone at the train station had stared and whispered when they saw her, no females from this era wore anything resembling her jeans and purple T-shirt. And it was probably a good guess that she was also the tallest girl most of them had ever seen.
"Come, we have little time and it will take hours to get back." Ilsa said abruptly, interrupting Erica's thoughts. "You will sit beside me on the way back."
"Where are you taking me?" Erica asked, dreading the answer.
"To a mansion that belongs to one of my friends. Now come along."
Erica had the feeling that being hauled off to some Nazi's mansion was definitely not a good thing. On the other hand, what choice did she have?
She followed Ilsa outside.
The "Nazi soldier" leaned his head against the door, drinking in every word that was spoken in the entrance hall. He heard the front doors open and then close as Ilsa, Erica, and the accompanying soldiers left. He hadn't learned much from that conversation — at least nothing a spy like himself would consider particularly valuable. He grinned. It had been extremely ironic when a few hours ago the Nazis had accused Erica of being a spy when he had been standing right there outside the doors, listening to every word. He had even hacked into the communication and heard exactly what had been said, everything from the identifying scar on the girl's arm to the reason why the Occult was looking for her: she could see the future. He couldn't blame the Occult or the Nazis for wanting her on their side, if they could convince her to help them, her talents would be invaluable. Unfortunately, her talents had the potential to doom the rest of the world.
He thought back over the conversation between Schenck and Ilsa Haupstien that he had just overheard, before the soldier had been sent to get Erica. Ilsa had been quick and to the point, dispensing with all formalities, a sure sign she was in a hurry. And who could blame her, if what they said about the girl named Erica was true.
He considered the developing situation remorsefully, knowing his sense of ethics was going to be troubling him soon, trying to interfere with what he had to do. He knew that being a spy meant that life and death were part of your everyday life, but he still hated the idea of killing innocent people. But if Erica could do what they had said, then he could not allow her to fall into the hands of the Occult. Doing so would give the Occult, as well as the Nazis, an enormous advantage over their enemies, an advantage that many countries would beg to have on their side if Erica could be rescued. Regrettably, this deep in Germany, rescuing Erica was impossible, leaving only one grim option.
Murder.
Erica didn't enjoy the car ride at all. It was spent in absolute silence except for the rumbling of the car's engine. And it didn't help that she had to sit in the back seat with Ilsa, something about the Arian woman just wasn't right. Something was different about her, and even though Erica couldn't exactly put her finger on it, she knew that she didn't like it. Erica fiddled with the silver cross on her necklace, staring blindly out the window at the beautiful countryside. She supposed she would have admired it at any other time, but having the feeling that you're being hauled off somewhere and that you're going to be killed sort of had the tendency to ruin it.
By the time the mansion appeared in the distance, it was evening. Dark, stormy clouds were gathering overhead and a cold wind blew through the trees, promising a storm. Thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance. As they drove closer, Erica's eyes were locked on the mansion, her mind full of apprehension about their destination.
An intricate wrought iron gate stood at the entrance to the driveway, its gates wide open for the car to pass through. As they were going up the long driveway, she could finally see some of the architectural details of the mansion. And though she really didn't want to be anywhere near it, she had to admit that the mansion was beautiful, and with its columns, sweeping arches, and huge windows it was definitely magnificent if slightly foreboding.
The soldier driving dropped them off at the front door, and then drove away, the other two escort cars following, leaving Erica alone with Ilsa.
"Come." was all Ilsa said, pointing to the front door.
Having no choice, and being very aware of the handgun in Ilsa's coat, Erica walked up the white marble steps. What's going to happen to me? she thought. As they approached the huge wooden door, Erica noticed the intricate carvings and the stain glass windows in it before the door opened slowly. Erica looked uncertainly at Ilsa, who indicated with a wave that Erica should go through first. Probably to keep me from trying to run off, she thought, as she walked over the threshold and entered a magnificent, if shadowy foyer.
She heard the door close behind her, the sound echoing in the huge space. The ceiling was at least twenty feet above her head and had gold crown molding all around the top, along with a gold chandelier hanging from its center. The lit candles on the chandelier threw a flickering glow on the crystals hanging off of it, making them sparkle and shimmer. Along the wall on her right was an ornate staircase that led up to a balcony overlooking the foyer from the second floor. On her left was a hall that led to the rest of the house. The floor beneath her feet was white marble, and the walls were decorated with paintings the size of bay windows. And this was just the foyer.
"This is beautiful." Erica murmured, almost forgetting where she was. I wish it wasn't so dim in here, it would be even more beautiful if it was brightly lit, she thought.
"Yes, my friend is very wealthy." Ilsa said, walking up beside her.
"And at the current moment, very impatient." said a voice.
Startled, Erica's eyes shot over to where a figure was leaning casually on the banister of the staircase. He was standing in the shadows and wearing black clothes, which explained why she hadn't spotted him immediately. His face was completely concealed by a smooth black mask, the flickering light from the chandelier cast dancing shadows across its surface, making him look threatening. From the casual way he was leaning on the banister, it was quite obvious that he had been watching them for some time.
"Patience is a virtue." Ilsa retorted, turning to look at him.
"Ah, that is where you are wrong," he said, "As you should know, there are seven virtues: faith, hope, charity, fortitude, justice, prudence, and temperance. Patience is not one of them."
"Reading philosophy again, I see." she said disapprovingly.
"On the contrary. I was merely studying so I would be able to better relate to our… 'guest'."
At the last word, he turned his head to face Erica so that he was looking directly at her. Not wanting to show that he frightened her, she didn't look away. But she had another reason not to look away besides her general safety: he reminded her of something, or someone, she just couldn't remember what.
He didn't look away either, instead he walked towards her, stepping forward out of the shadows. Danger radiated from him, she just knew by the way he moved and spoke thathe wasn't a person you wanted to cross. Suddenly, she had the feeling that it might be a good idea to back away from him, and she took a few retreating steps backwards towards the door.
"Don't be frightened," he said.
"Only fools are not afraid." Erica said, figuring that if she was going to die, she wasn't going to die a coward.
"True, 'none but a coward dares to boast that he has never known fear' but 'the fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself'. Publilius Syrus 100 B.C. and Ferdinand Foch, a French general. Both statements are very true, I believe you will soon find."
"What do you mean?" Erica asked. "Are you — are you going to kill me?"
"No, not unless you give us significant reason to." he answered, "But I realize that's probably not very reassuring."
"Kroenen, stop scaring her." said Ilsa, "The three of us have things to discuss."
"Don't be rude to our 'guest'," Kroenen said, "I'm sure she's hungry since she hasn't eaten since this morning. We can talk during dinner."
How does he know I haven't eaten since breakfast? Erica thought, feeling uneasy. At least I know they're not planning to kill me. But what do they want to talk to me about? And why is he wearing a mask?
"Come, I just had the servants set the table for us in the dining hall." Kroenen said, leading the way.
The dining hall was just as ornate as the foyer had been, but about twice as much. A huge fireplace was on one wall, it was so big that Erica could have stood up in it easily. Right now, a roaring fire burned in it, providing the only illumination besides the candles on the small, square table in the center of the room. The wall opposite the fireplace was full of windows that went almost all the way from floor to ceiling. Through them, Erica could see flashes of lightning and the trees swaying in the wind as the storm's wrath was released. The rain started to fall and pattered against the windows.
Other than themselves, the only other people in the huge room were two servants, one that was pouring drinks, and the other one pulling out a chair for Ilsa to sit in. Then, the servants disappeared through a door next to a woven tapestry hanging on the wall.
Kroenen walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, indicating that Erica should sit there. Keeping one wary eye on him, she slowly sat down and then watched him carefully as he went to the chair across from her.
"Tsk tsk. So untrusting." he admonished, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I can't imagine why." Erica said sarcastically.
Erica looked down at the food on the plate in front of her. There was toasted bread with butter, salad, some kind of soup, and some other foods she couldn't recognize, probably foods native to Germany. Besides herself, Ilsa was the only one that had food on her plate, Kroenen sat in his chair idly fiddling with the knife at his place setting, spinning it with his fingers in a very unsettling manner. Ilsa appeared not to notice, either that or she didn't care, and started on her soup. Erica looked down at the food on her plate. It all looked good, and the truth was, she was starving. She was just picking up her fork when something occurred to her. What if it's poisoned? she thought. At that thought, she instantly dropped the fork back on the table.
"Go ahead, eat." encouraged Ilsa, noticing that Erica hadn't touched her food.
Erica just sat there, looking mistrustfully from the food in front of her to her two dinner "companions".
"Don't worry, we wouldn't go to all the trouble of finding you just to poison you." Kroenen said, putting down the knife and leaning forward on the table to watch her.
How on earth did he know what I was thinking? she wondered.
"I know what you're thinking because you can't be an assassin or top leader of the Occult without understanding how other people will act and think in a given situation. People, I've found, are extremely predictable. Another reason why you were so easy to find."
Seeing the look on Erica's face, Ilsa laughed.
And that was the last thing in a long line of things that pushed Erica over the edge. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.
"But how could you be looking for me? You couldn't have known about me, because, as crazy as I know this sounds, until this morning I was several decades in the future, and at least an ocean away from here. You must have me confused with someone else because, in fact, you couldn't have known about me, unless…unless you were the ones that brought me here!"
"Imagine that, pretty and intelligent." Kroenen said from the other end of the table.
Ilsa had stopped eating and was looking at Erica with an expression she couldn't read, but there was no hint in Ilsa's face that she thought Erica was crazy.
"Then — then it's true?" Erica asked, "But if you are the ones who brought me here, how did you know about me?"
"The leader of the Occult informed us that we were to find you because you had certain talents that would assist us in reaching our goals." Kroenen said, being careful of his choice of words so as not to give too much away.
"I refuse to be the pawn of some Occult! And I want to go home!" Erica said, "And how did you know what I can do?"
In response, Kroenen stood up. Thinking that maybe, for once in her life, she had gone too far and was about to pay for it, Erica started to stand too, with the intention of either running or fighting.
"Sit." Ilsa said. "He won't harm you, and neither will I. He is trying to explain."
Erica sat down, her curiosity getting the better of her. That, and the knowledge that Ilsa had a gun in her coat. But Erica had the distinct feeling that she was going to regret this.
Kroenen walked over to a small table in the corner of the room, returning with a book that had a black leather cover with a silver crescent on its front. He opened the book and flipped through the pages, stopping when he found the one he was looking for. And unless it was a trick of the firelight, Erica could have sworn that the pages were glowing with a hellish light.
"She will be marked with a crescent shaped scar on the inside of her left arm, and she will have the power of prophecy," he read from the book, "as well as the ability to see all alternate endings to situations. She will be found in the 21 century."
"That's how you knew about me? But how did I get here?"
"Let's just say that magic is very, very real. And when used correctly by the right person…" Ilsa said.
"But why? Why bring me here?" Erica asked, dreading the answer she knew was coming.
"So many question! Haven't you figured that out for yourself?" Kroenen asked, walking around the table toward her, "I suspect you have, but let me explain it. As you have heard, you have been marked since birth, marked because of your unique power to see the future. Though you haven't learned to control it, it is very powerful, and very useful. Specifically, the Occult is very interested in you.
"You mean, they— you— want me to help them." Erica said. "I'm sorry, but it seems that I have no interest in helping you slaughter innocent people and control the world."
"Erica, the Nazis and the Occult are not one and the same," Ilsa said, "The Occult is different. We can help you."
"I don't want or need your help!" she said, standing up.
"Erica, can't you see you're meant to help us? It is inevitable." said Kroenen.
By this time he was standing directly in front of her, and he reached out a gloved hand towards her. She tried to back away, but the table and the chair behind her were in her way. His outstretched fingers touched the crescent scar on her arm. To her shock, her scar turned a cold blue with red around the edges. And it burned. She gasped and wrenched away.
"Don't you see that you belong here with us?" he said, "We've been expecting you."
She spun around and leapt over her chair, and she ran. She didn't think, she just ran. She had no idea where she was going, or how she would get away, but she didn't care. She couldn't stay in that dining hall with them a moment longer. She ran through the corridors blindly, until she realized that she was completely lost, nothing looked familiar. And besides that, the corridors she was wandering around in were dark, lit only by an occasional candle or window, making each one look almost exactly like the last. She walked through the dark corridors, completely disoriented. This place is a maze! she thought. I certainly don't envy the architect that had to build this place. I wonder if the servants that work here ever get lost? Suddenly, she found herself in a long, dark hall with a high ceiling, at the other end, was a huge widow. Through it, she could see the thunderstorm raging outside. As she walked down the hall, a thought suddenly occurred to her.
This is sort of…familiar, almost like I've been here before. But that's impossible…
Erica stopped halfway down the hall. Despite the violent storm outside hurling rain against the window, and the shrieking wind, she could hear a soft ticking sound, as if there was a clock somewhere nearby. She looked around, searching for it. But the hallway was empty, there was no furniture in it, no paintings, no clocks. She was the only thing in it. Regardless of this, the ticking continued very softly, seeming to come from near the window.
Unnerved, Erica approached the window slowly. Maybe I can break the glass and get outside, she thought. But another part of her mind was trying to deal with her serious case of déjà vu. I know I've seen this before. But where? she thought. Then, she knew. No! No! This can't be happening! she thought frantically, My nightmare is not going to come true! This isn't real! It can't be!
But it was coming true, and was very much real. Everything from her nightmare, down to the slightest detail, was exactly the same. But if it's true, then that means— Her eyes darted around nervously, trying to locate the danger she knew was hidden somewhere within the shadows veiling the hall. Something she couldn't see rustled nearby. She swallowed thickly, her heart racing.
Maybe I can make it to the window before— before— She couldn't think about that. It was too terrible.
As she walked closer to the window, the ticking got louder. The back of her neck prickled. Someone was behind her! She whirled around to face the hall — but no one was there. She looked around uneasily, backing up towards the window. A bolt of lightning flashed outside the window behind her, lighting the hall with an eerie, electric blue light. Thunder boomed so loudly and so close that it made the glass in the widow vibrate.
"Erica." a voice from behind her hissed her name, breaking the silence of the hall.
Erica shrieked and spun around. Kroenen was silhouetted against the storm outside the window, so close he could have reached out and touched her. She was so close to him that she realized the soft ticking she heard was coming from him. But how is that possible? she thought. He'd have to be— And this is why I thought Kroenen looked familiar! He was in my nightmare! She stared in horror, her gray eyes wide with fear, too scared to back away from him.
Despite his mask, she could feel him watching her. She couldn't move, she was rooted to the spot by his intense gaze that was piercing her heart and searching her soul, staring into her face. He stood still, watching her, his terrible gaze slicing into her. She wanted to scream but couldn't open her mouth or make a sound. Run! A voice inside her shrieked, Run away! But she couldn't move.
"You can run," he hissed, "but you cannot escape."
The chilling words from her nightmare echoed in the dark hall and in her head. But this wasn't a dream, it was real! Her nightmare had come true! She stood there, mind numbing fear making it impossible for her to think, she only knew that she was afraid.
"Erica," Kroenen whispered. Slowly, he held out his hand. "Erica, come back with me. You're missing dinner."
"NO!" she shrieked.
Erica turned and ran. She had to get away—
"Why are you running?" he asked, his words echoing in the darkness, "You have nowhere to go. Besides, I won't hurt you—"
"As if I'd believe that!" she yelled back.
She ran, the sound of her shoes hitting the carpet sounding as loud as a drum in the silence of the hall. Somehow, without turning around, she knew that a pair of almost noiseless feet were following behind her, Kroenen was pursuing her. But she also knew he was taking his time, he wasn't worried about her getting away. Seeing an intersection between two hallways ahead of her, she got an idea. Hoping to throw him off, she ran straight ahead and then swerved at the last moment and took off down the windowless, dark hall on the right. Quickly, she dashed behind a suit of armor, flattening herself against the wall so she wouldn't be seen.
The sound of Kroenen's quiet footsteps approached and she held her breath, trying to be absolutely silent. She was certain he would hear her pounding heart, but the sound of his footsteps passed by the hall she was in and faded into the distance. Once she was sure he was gone, she ran down the hall, hoping she could find a way out of here before Kroenen found her again.
The shadows in this hall were so dark they made the ones in the hall she had just left almost benign looking. In fact, unless it was an optical illusion, the shadows seemed to be — moving. The shadows poured down from the walls, moving fluidly towards her, closing in around her. Desperately, she took off down another hall trying to escape from them. This one wasn't any better, it was even darker and the shadows here seemed to turn to watch her and whisper to each other before joining the twisting, contorting wave flowing after her.
She ran, stumbling and gasping for breath, trying to escape—
The shadows were reaching out with shapeless claws to catch her— Hands with spider-thin fingers, writhing tentacles, all reaching for her, so close—
—Trying to catch her, capture her—
Erica couldn't let the darkness catch her, couldn't—
It was all around her, there was nowhere to go, she couldn't escape—
— She kept running, knowing that it was futile—
Out of nowhere, a gloved hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks so suddenly that she fell forward. The hand on her shoulder tightened and clamped down like a vice, stopping her fall and ensuring she couldn't escape. As the hand tightened, Erica cried out in pain and struggled to pull away, the grip only constricted even more until it felt like it was crushing the bones in her shoulder. She shrieked and lashed out blindly in the darkness, feeling her fist strike the person's chest.
Another hand brushed her face and she instinctively sank her teeth into it. She felt her teeth scrape bone, but there was no cry of pain from her attacker, which surprised her. Instead, a foot kicked her in the back of the knee, throwing her off balance and making her yelp in pain. Unfortunately, she also opened her mouth, and when she did, the hand yanked away. The next thing she knew the hand grabbed her neck, the fingers instantly finding her jugular vein and windpipe and tightening down mercilessly. She fought back, her fingers trying to pry the hand off her throat, but it was useless, the other person was just too strong. Her lungs were aching for air, she couldn't breathe! She gasped for air, her attempts only creating a strangled guttural sound. The hand around her throat constricted even further, making it impossible to breathe. Everything spun around her, the shadows and walls swirling around in a dizzying dance. As she struggled, her limbs got slower and weaker, her legs buckled and she suddenly found herself kneeling on the floor.
That was when she knew she couldn't get away, that she had no hope of escape. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and she could hear her heart beating frantically in her chest. A dark fog settled over her brain, her arms and legs wouldn't obey her anymore, and her vision began to fade out. Then the shadows swallowed everything completely and she couldn't see, everything was pitch black. The last thing she was aware of was a dull, painful throbbing in her skull before everything just stopped.
Erica went limp as her oxygen deprived brain went unconscious. Knowing she wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon, Kroenen let her body fall softly to the floor and knelt down beside her to check to see that she was still breathing. Yes, she was, though it was irregular and shallow, she was breathing. The fingers of his uninjured hand moved down to her wrist, finding her pulse which was faint, but there. He sighed, he had been trying not to harm her too much, but she hadn't been exactly interested in being cooperative. He held up the hand that she had bitten and tried to see the extent of the damage, but it was too dark here to tell. He could feel blood running down his arm and guessed by that she had, in the very least, bitten down to the bone and severed several blood vessels. Unlike the average person might expect, he wasn't angry that she had hurt him, or even irritated. In fact, he thought it was rather amusing. Well, he thought, looking down at her body sprawled across the carpet, you certainly will be an interesting challenge. With that thought, he slid his arms under her and picked her up, and then started back towards the dining hall.
As Kroenen re-entered the dining hall, Ilsa looked up. She had heard some of what had been going on, mostly shrieks from Erica and had decided not to get involved, Kroenen was more than capable of dealing with an emotional and scared teenage girl. However, when Erica had run off and Kroenen had gone after her, Ilsa had simply expected him to retrieve Erica and bring her back. Instead she was met with the sight of Kroenen carrying Erica's very limp form cradled in his arms. Erica's face was pale and her head lolled on her neck, which had several darkening bruises on it. Ilsa immediately expected the worst.
Kroenen, seeing Ilsa's expression, explained.
"She tried to fight me," he said, "she's unconscious now. Don't worry, she'll wake up soon."
With that, Kroenen headed for the staircase in the foyer. As he turned, Ilsa noticed the dark crimson blood running down his arm and dripping on the floor.
Kroenen carried Erica up the stairs to the room they had prepared for her. He laid her on the bed and then left, locking the door behind him. A short time later, Erica's body stirred. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and immediately closed them again as she was assailed by a pounding headache. She moaned and tried to move her head, and discovered that for some reason, her neck was extremely sore. She gave up moving and opened her eyes again, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above her head. What happened? she thought groggily, Why do I feel so bad? And how'd I get here? This isn't my bedroom...
And what was that weird taste in her mouth? It tasted almost like— blood. In a rush, it all came back to her. "Oh my god! I have to get out of here!" she said, her voice sounding hoarse to her ears.
She jumped upright and immediately regretted it as her headache doubled into a head splitting pain. She swayed on her feet and leaned against the bed for support. When it passed, she moved again, but slowly this time. Where am I? she thought, I don't recognize this place. She went to the door and turned the gold colored knob. But it didn't open. She rattled the doorknob and pounded on the door. But it was no use, it was locked. Frantically she turned around, her eyes darting around, searching the room for any way out. They fell on the window next to the bed and she rushed over. But the window wasn't the kind that opened and it was too high above the ground to try to jump or climb down on something. Besides, the glass was so thick that she didn't think she'd be able to break it. There was no way to get out, she was trapped. Full of despair, she threw herself down on the bed. Even if I could get out I have nowhere to go, she thought, remembering what Kroenen had said. What will my parents think when they find out that I've disappeared? That I'm never coming back?
Outside, the storm still raged, reflecting her inner feelings of confusion, anger, fear, and sorrow.
Ilsa leaned against the wall next to the fireplace in Kroenen's study. Kroenen sat at his desk, which had medical instruments scattered across its top. A needle flashed coldly in the light as he sewed the skin and muscles of his injured hand back together. Ilsa watched him, a cruel smile on her face.
"Imagine that, the little, defenseless girl managed to injure Hitler's top assassin." Ilsa said, amusement in her voice.
"Little? Exactly whom are you comparing her to? If I remember correctly, she happens to be several inches taller than you." Kroenen said, "And, though it would have been altogether too easy to seriously wound or kill her, I didn't think Grigory would be particularly pleased if that were to happen. Now, if you would, please be quiet until I am finished with the task at 'hand'."
Ilsa glowered at him, resenting the fact that he had told her to be quiet, but at least she was silent.
As he worked, he thought back over the events in the hallway. Erica certainly had a lot to learn. He had known the entire time where she was and where she was going, he had even known that she had been hiding behind that suit of armor. And it had been all too easy to make her think she was alone when, in fact, he had never been more that fifteen feet away from her.
When the last stitch was in place, he gathered up the medical instruments on his desk and began putting them away.
"What do you think?" Ilsa said, breaking the silence.
"About what?" he said, cleaning the drops of blood off his desktop.
"About Erica! What else!"
"Well, we both know she's not hesitant when it comes to defending herself. Besides that, she is intelligent, she knew she shouldn't trust us. "
"Not that! How are we going to convince her to help us?"
Kroenen thought for a moment. "The best way: use her weaknesses against her. Based on tonight, that should be relatively easy, and she won't ever suspect a thing. Most obvious is that her talents scare her because she cannot control them. Beyond that, she was asking a lot of questions. She always wants to know, to learn. And that, I think, will be her downfall."