Chapter Eighteen: A Night in the Rain, Part Two
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks muchly for reviewing Psycho Llama, Gestalt, and Scorponis! And extra thanks for sending me ideas, I really need them! I love you guys! Sorry, this would have been ready a day or two ago, but the WWII theater production at school has been taking up a lot of my time, plus I went on a fieldtrip to the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C…Anyways, this is what you've been waiting for: the battle where everything Erica has been hiding comes out, and results in Kroenen having to make a difficult choice: To kill his friend, or to suffer the wrath of the Ogdru Jahad. General violence, mild language, and gore warning, but if you've lasted this far you should be fine. Besides, most of you are Kroenen fans, so you should be more than able to handle it! "Auf Wiedersehen" is goodbye, and I think you all know the rest of the German by now.
Psycho Llama: Hehe! Cliffies are so evil—and I love writing them! Mwhahaha! watches Kroenen chase sheep Teehee! The mental image of that is so funny!
Gestalt: More sheep chasing? Perhaps I should write a side story on that, since people seem to like them so much…ponders…And don't you worry, you can bet she's going to run into Kroenen in my sequel!
Scorponis: Haha! Cliffhangers! Suspense! Don't they just kill you? And they're so much fun to write! I'm already working on the sequel, so you'll be seeing that soon.
"Stand up for what is right, even if you're standing alone."—Unknown
Erica's muscles were tensed and ready for action. Her stomach clenched in fear as she gazed at the cosmic slit crackling with energy. She knew she was teetering on the brink of the point when she would have to act, and her thoughts darted back and forth as she tried to decide if now was the moment to do it—
She froze. Out of the corner of her eye, Erica saw a person standing behind a wall on the outskirts of the ruins. No sooner had she spotted it, than she saw another shadowy person pull the other person down behind the wall, whispering threats. Her heart leapt into her throat, propelled both by relief and fear.
They're here! She thought excitedly, The Allied Forces came! They got my letter!
Quickly, her eyes darted left and right to make sure she was the only on that had seen and heard the Allied soldiers. Her eyes fell on a Nazi scientist, who was turned toward the wall and gazing at it. Erica's heart froze and then plummeted so fast that she felt sick. The Allied soldiers hadn't been fast enough, the scientist had heard them. Her heart continued to race in something close to panic as the Nazi scientist took a few steps toward the wall the soldiers were hiding behind. Compulsively, Erica opened her mouth, and was about to order the scientist back to his place, when it occurred to her that if she did she would attract Kroenen's attention.
She glanced at Kroenen, who was standing on her left. Kroenen was still completely focused on the portal, and she could tell from his stance that he was pleased with how well everything was going. I can't get him involved—not yet. If he gets involved, he'll investigate what the scientist saw, which will ruin the ambush the Allied soldiers have planned. So Erica stayed silent, anxiously watching the scientist's progress out of the corner of her eye.
The Nazi scientist slowly approached the wall where he had heard the voices. Erica saw something small and oval-shaped thrown over the wall, which was followed by another. The scientist looked down as they landed next to him.
"Grenade! Grenade!" he cried, raising the alarm.
At the scientist's cries, Erica whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest. She was just in time to see a flash of fire as the grenades exploded. Propelled by the explosion, the scientist went flying through the air—and into the electric blue side of the open portal. Everyone present watched with horrified fascination as the scientist's clothes and skin dissolved, leaving a screaming skeleton that disintegrated into dust. The scientist's shriek hung in the air for a moment before it was interrupted by another explosion and a blast of heat as another grenade exploded. The explosion caused a section of the ruins to collapse on the scientist working at the control panel for the portal generator. He was crushed instantly.
The second explosion sent the Nazi soldiers into action. A few seconds later, the squad of Allies stormed the area, running right into the Nazi soldiers.
And then all Hell broke loose!
The air exploded with screams and the roar of gunfire as thunder and lightning crashed overhead and the shrieking wind drove the pouring rain against the stones of the abbey. But the violence of the storm above was outmatched by the violence of the raging battle below. Yelling, gunshots, and exploding grenades coupled with the thunder, falling rain, and the darkness made it impossible to tell which side was winning, or if one side was winning at all.
Erica saw a group of Allies rushing towards her, their guns aiming right at her. She instinctively reached for the baton swords strapped to her legs—but a pair of hands pushed her from behind, knocking her to the ground and out of harm's way. She looked up just in time to see Kroenen standing over her holding a handgun and aiming at the oncoming soldiers.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Four gunshots rang out and four of the Allied soldiers collapsed, their legs shattered by the bullets. Suddenly she realized that only three of them were wearing soldier's uniforms, the other was wearing a suit with a long dark coat over it, and clutched in his hand was the leather strap of a wooden box. Professor Trevor Broom! Erica thought, realizing who the man had to be. Professor Broom's face was contorted with pain as he tried in vain to get up—Kroenen had shot him in the knee and Erica knew there was no way that the Professor would be able to stand, let alone walk.
"Erica."
She looked up. Kroenen held out his hand and instinctively she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Screams and shouts, explosions, and gunfire were all around them as the battle was joined. Kroenen pulled her close and leaned in towards her.
"Have fun, my Angel of Death," he whispered in her ear, "Show them the powers of Hell."
Then he released her. Erica watched as he ran and leapt over a wall, his trench coat billowing out behind him as he landed on his feet. He immediately shot down four more soldiers. Discovering that the handgun was now empty, he threw it aside.
TCHKKK!
Kroenen flung out his arms and extended two long, gleaming blades from the steel bands on his wrists. He crossed them in front of his face and then took on an entire group of soldiers, mowing through them. Erica glanced at the portal generator and then back to Kroenen. If I do this now he won't see me until it's too late, she thought as she fingered the grenade in her pocket, her heart hammering with fear and excitement. She looked at Kroenen one last time and then took a step in the direction of the portal generator—and then stopped as her eyes fell on Professor Broom, who was crawling over the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Behind her she heard tortured screams as Kroenen slaughtered the soldiers that came near him. The screams tugged at her heart. All at once, she realized what she had to do. I have to fight Kroenen, she thought, it's the only way to stop him from massacring the Allies. I'm the only one that can do it, the only one that has a chance against him. He taught me and I can use that knowledge against him.
But fighting him would be suicide! said a voice in her head, He'll kill you before you get a chance to destroy the generator!
Another scream came from behind her. That decided the situation for her. I'll fight him. The portal generator will have to wait, she thought. She pulled the handgun from her belt, and spying a Nazi soldier running towards Professor Broom, she coolly took aim and pulled the trigger.
BAM!
The Nazi soldier collapsed instantly, the bullet had struck him in the heart. Professor Broom looked up as the Nazi fell to the ground not more than a yard or so away from him. Shaken, he looked up to see who had saved him, and to his shock and horror, saw Erica Schwarz holding a handgun and aiming it in his general direction. He froze, expecting to die, but instead her strange gray eyes traveled to his face. Their eyes locked and she nodded at him. Then she lowered the gun and ran off in the same direction that Kroenen had gone. Professor Broom stared after her in disbelief. What just happened? He wondered, Did the Angel of Death just shoot someone on her own side? Did she just save my life? But he left off wondering as he spotted a wounded soldier lying several yards away. But that wasn't what was so important. What was important was that Broom could see the grenades attached to the soldier's belt. If I can crawl that far and get a grenade, I can blow up the portal generator before anything comes through, he thought. He immediately put his plan into action.
Erica ran through the chaos of the battle, dodging grenades and ducking as Allied soldiers shot in her direction. She ran and leapt over a wall and landed on her feet on the edge of the courtyard where Kroenen was fighting an entire group of Allied soldiers. He was killing them with surgical precision, aiming for arteries as his blades sliced right through the soldiers' weapons and then into their flesh and bones. Kroenen's back was to her, and Erica knew she would never have a better chance than this. She raised her handgun and aimed it at the middle of Kroenen's back. She gently rested her finger on the trigger, hesitating to pull it. Her arm shook and she bit her lip. I don't want to hurt him, but I have to stop him, she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by the horrible sound of bone snapping as Kroenen broke a soldier's leg as easily as if it had been a dry twig. She aimed at Kroenen's back, trying to keep her trembling arm as steady as possible. The right thing isn't always the easiest, she thought. And just as the last soldier in front of Kroenen fell, she forced herself to pull the trigger.
BANG!
The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, and for Erica it was louder and more piercing than any of the battle noise around her.
Kroenen felt the impact and a tearing sensation as a bullet ripped into his back. Unconcerned, he whirled around, his knives raised to strike down his opponent. But instead of an Allied soldier he saw Erica aiming her handgun at him. He paused and his gaze traveled from the anguish on her face to her outstretched arm, still aiming the handgun in his direction. He stared at Erica in confusion and disbelief. It was a mistake, an accident—an accident, he told himself.
But it can't be, hissed a dark voice in the back of his head, It can't be an accident. You know Erica never misses.
But if it wasn't an accident—Has she gone crazy? Kroenen thought, desperately trying to justify her actions to himself, Is that what's been wrong with her?
Erica threw the handgun aside, knowing it was useless against him. The handgun skittered across the rain slicked cobblestones and came to a stop at the base of a ruined wall, but Erica wasn't watching it. Her despair filled eyes never left Kroenen's face.
"I'm sorry," she said, facing him, unshed tears glittering in her grey eyes, "My God I'm sorry, Kroenen! Forgive me!"
As the fighting raged on around them, Kroenen watched her incredulously as she violently flung out her arms and extended her own wrist blades. She faced him, standing in an attack stance.
"What are you doing?"Kroenen yelled, fairly sure that she had gone mad.
"I don't want to fight you, Kroenen," she said, "But I don't have a choice anymore."
Erica's answer threw him even deeper into confusion. "What? Why?" he asked.
But Kroenen's words fell on deaf ears—Erica was past talking. He saw her shift ever so slightly as she braced herself, and then suddenly—she lunged at him.
Even in the seconds as she ran at him he didn't understand what was happening. For once in his life Kroenen had no idea what he should do. There were no words that could describe his complete shock as Erica charged at him. In fact, he was so surprised that he didn't move out of the way and her body slammed into his, knocking him backwards. He swiftly regained his balance and faced her as she struck out at him. Almost mechanically he blocked the blow and deflected her blade to the side, being cautious not to hurt her. Being careful of her blades, he grabbed her wrists to stop her from attacking him. Erica struggled fiercely, turning and twisting, but he only held on tighter. As she struggled something silver slipped out from under her shirt and hung around her neck, sparkling in the flashes of lightning. Kroenen saw it and for some reason it caught his attention and he stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. It wasn't the silver watch he had given her, and it wasn't the Iron Cross she was wearing. Suddenly he realized what it was.
It's a crucifix, he thought, It's her crucifix!
He felt like the freezing cold rain had come through his clothes and drenched him in ice water. His thoughts froze—even his mechanical heart seemed to stop as he stared at the crucifix hanging from her necklace. In his mind he could almost hear the puzzle pieces clicking into place. Her answer that she didn't have a choice—her strange behavior—her fear of him—not letting him touch her—the lying— the strange images he had found in her head—her dread of October ninth—the image of obsidian hall and the blood spattered body that he had found in her thoughts— in that moment it all came clear and it dawned on him what was going on.
She's betrayed the Occult, he realized, The bloodstained body in the obsidian hall was hers as she imagined it! Almost instantly he tried to reject this painful, horrifying idea. No! His mind screamed. NO! It can't be!
In one swift movement he retracted his wrist blades and roughly grabbed her shoulders. Erica was so astonished by this unexpected action that she didn't even resist him as he pulled her close to him. Kroenen's gloved fingers grasped the chain of the silver cross necklace and he ripped it from around her neck, leaving a red welt on her skin. He stared hatefully at the crucifix as it dangled from his fist and then swiftly turned his attention back to Erica, who was trembling in his grasp.
"So this is why!" he shouted angrily, shaking the fist holding the necklace in her face, "This is why! You've betrayed us!" He paused for a moment, the enormity of the situation sinking in, "You've betrayed us!" He said again, his voice full of anguish. He bowed his head, weighed down by heart wrenching grief and disbelief that this was actually happening. He saw Erica staring up at him, her face full of guilt and her gray eyes wide with fear.
"Yes," she whispered softly, "Yes I have."
He stared at her in silent astonishment and growing horror. He couldn't believe it. He was in a living nightmare. This can't be happening! It can't be true! He thought. But Erica had admitted to it—it was true. She was a traitor. She had betrayed the Occult and the Nazis. NO! He thought, NO! Erica, why? Why? What he had to do hit him like a ton of bricks: he had to kill her. It was the law, and it was what the Ogdru Jahad demanded that he do to her. He was the Head of the Thule Society and it was his duty and his alone. Inside his head he could 'hear' the Ogdru Jahad roaring with fury, ordering Erica's destruction. Kroenen looked down at her pale face. He couldn't bear it—he couldn't bear the thought of killing her. But if he didn't he would be disobeying the Ogdru Jahad, something that was just as bad as the thought of killing his friend.
How could she do this to me? he thought, his grief and disbelief abruptly turning into surging, boiling anger, How could she force this on me? She knows the consequences! She knows what I have to do now! He looked at her and felt a terrible rage building up inside him.
"Damn you!" he yelled angrily, as he forcefully pushed her away from him.
Erica stumbled backwards and her feet slipped on the rain and blood slicked cobblestones. She fell and landed on a small flight of cold stone steps. She tumbled down them and came to a stop at the bottom, lying on her back and minus her hat, which had fallen off. She started to sit up and winced. She could already feel the massive bruises she would have from her fall. Kroenen appeared at the top of the stairs, looming ominously above her. He held out his arms at his sides and his wrist blades smoothly shot out of his sleeves again.
"Damn you! DAMN YOU!" he yelled harshly as he started down the stairs.
Erica hastily scrambled upright—he struck at her and she just barely brought her own blades up in time to block the blow. She backed away from him but he kept on coming, his blades slicing towards her stomach and neck.
"TRAITOR!" he yelled, "DAMN YOU!"
Erica blocked the blows by crossing her blades in front of her. The two identical sets of knives screeched as they struck each other—but Kroenen didn't stop. He continued pushing on the blades, trying to force her down to the ground. And it was working: already her legs were beginning to buckle under the pressure. The next thing Erica knew she was kneeling on the ground with Kroenen mercilessly pushing down on her with all of his weight and strength. Erica pushed back, knowing that she would die if she didn't get out of this. She spotted her only option and went for it: she pushed upwards against him as hard as she could and then she dove for the ground and rolled between his legs.
She had barely managed to get to her feet when Kroenen was after her again.
For Erica this battle was nothing like combat training when Kroenen had had enough control to stop his blades less than a hair from actually harming her. But now he was in a murderous fury, blades whirling and stabbing with the intent of killing her, hacking and slashing relentlessly. Erica was battling for her life and she was terrified. She couldn't remember ever being this afraid of him. She realized that in all these years she had never seen him this angry, this murderous, this bent on spilling blood. I hope the Allies destroy the generator before it's too late, she thought, beginning to regret her decision to fight him, because Kroenen will probably kill me before I ever get the chance.
In another part of the ruins Ilsa was crouched on the stairs, shielding her face with an arm as grenades exploded and bullets ricocheted off the stone steps. In her other hand she was holding a handgun and shooting down any Allied soldiers that got too close to her. Her eyes darted over the ruins, anxiously trying to find Kroenen. Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up the ruins and allowing her to spot him. He was fighting someone and yelling angrily, and the person he was fighting was—Erica? Ilsa thought, bewildered, What the Hell is going on? Kroenen and Erica were fighting like demons and soldiers from both sides were actually scrambling to get out of the way of the dueling pair.
"TRAITOR!" Ilsa heard Kroenen yell at Erica.
Traitor? Ilsa wondered. Then she realized what was going on. Erica has betrayed us!
"That arschloch!" Ilsa cursed angrily, her beautiful face contorting in rage.
Ilsa had no second thoughts. She immediately aimed her handgun at Erica, waiting for Erica to hold still long enough so that she could shoot her. Maybe it was the Ogdru Jahad influencing her, maybe it was Grigory, but as far as Ilsa was concerned Erica was a traitor and was jeopardizing all they had worked for. And for that Erica deserved to die. Erica dashed behind a Nazi soldier and Kroenen ran him through instead of her. As he shook his blades free of the dead man's body, Erica braced herself to attack—and Ilsa pulled the trigger.
BANG!
At that exact moment Kroenen backhanded Erica across the right side of her face. Erica fell to the ground and Ilsa's bullet flew harmlessly past. Erica lay on the ground, temporarily stunned by the blow. Good Lord he's strong, she thought dazedly. She felt a shadow fall over her and glanced up to see Kroenen standing over her. He reached down, grasped the front of her uniform, and then in one movement he picked her up and slammed her back against a wall. He pushed her against the stones, pinning her to the wall with one hand. Still dazed, Erica was unable to do anything to defend herself. Do something! Her mind screamed, He's going to kill you!
Her heart raced as she saw Kroenen's blades arc up into the air above her head. For her it was almost as if they were moving in slow motion. She could hear every beat of her pounding heart, could hear herself gasping for breath. In a distant way, she could hear the roar of gunfire and the piercing sound of screams. Kroenen's knives glittered in the dim light as they neared the top of their arc. She remembered, suddenly, Christmas Eve, when she was eleven, playing checkers in the living room with her little sister. There was a warm, roaring fire in the fireplace, and the Christmas tree had a beautiful angel on top. Her parents and Grandfather were sitting on the sofa, watching A Christmas Carol on TV and drinking hot chocolate. She could almost feel the warmth from the fire, and smell the hot chocolate, she could almost hear her Grandfather's hearty laugh. But then she felt the freezing rain falling on her upturned face and trickling down her neck. She could smell blood and fire. The vision of Christmas Eve melted away, and for a moment she saw a glimpse of the day when Kroenen had taught her to dance. Then that too faded and disappeared.
The knives came to the top of their arc. Her heart stopped. Erica knew she was going to die. I wonder if I'll go to Heaven or Hell? she mused. Then time speeded up. Erica saw Kroenen's knives come whistling down and she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the muscles in her body tense in anticipation of the blow—but it didn't come.
She opened her eyes. The blades were only inches from her head and they were shaking! Kroenen was trembling, he was hesitating to kill her! She couldn't believe it. Her gray eyes darted to Kroenen's mask. There was no emotion there, but still, he had stopped mere inches from killing her. Why? Why is he hesitating? She wondered. Kroenen didn't answer her unspoken question. He continued to stare at her, his blades inches from killing her, his clockwork clicking and whirring roughly as if to express his indecision.
Erica didn't wait to see what would happen. She thrust out her hands and shoved him as hard as she could, pushing him off balance. She dove to the side and ran.
Kroenen stayed where he was and watched Erica disappear among the turmoil of the battle. I'll deal with you later, he thought angrily.
Full of frustration and anger, Kroenen ran at the first enemy soldiers he laid eyes on and brutally killed them, taking pleasure in their screams of pain. When Kroenen was finished with them he looked up and noticed a man crawling across the ground. He stalked toward him.
Erica ran as if the hounds of Hell were after her. She couldn't believe how close she had been to dying. At any moment she expected to feel a cold knife stab her or a hand to grab her around the neck. But when neither of these things happened, she looked over her shoulder to see where Kroenen was. To her relief he wasn't behind her. But that means he's probably somewhere else around here, waiting to jump out at me, she thought, fear griping at her heart as her eyes darted from side to side. She still didn't see him.
"Scheiße." Erica cursed, moving cautiously among the ruins. Then she saw him.
Not far from her, Kroenen was stalking towards a wounded man that was crawling across the ground. Professor Broom! Erica thought, recognizing the man. Without a second thought she ran towards Kroenen, hoping she would get there in time to stop him.
Kroenen was only halfway to the Professor when somebody cannoned into him so hard that he was knocked off balance. He crashed into a nearby wall and the person slammed into him a second time. He caught a glimpse of the face and realized it was Erica—
—Professor Broom heard the sound of scuffling boots behind him and looked over his shoulder. To his amazement and complete shock, he saw Erica Schwarz fighting Kroenen—
—Erica saw Kroenen's left arm, and almost without thinking, she stabbed his arm. The blade went straight through his arm and pinned his wrist to the wall.
"You may kill me, but you'll never forget me!" she yelled.
The words were barely out of her mouth before Kroenen's fingers closed on her right wrist so tightly that she cried out in pain. He yanked her hand away from him so the blade slid out of his arm. He twisted her arm and threw her to the ground. Erica's face crashed into the cold cobblestones. She started to push herself up from the ground—a boot crashed into her ribs and the impact sent her tumbling. She landed on her back and this time she saw Kroenen a second before he kicked her in the ribs again. Fire seared over her ribs and she gasped for breath—another kick and she heard a dull, snapping sound from her side.
"Uunhh." She moaned.
She tried to scramble upright, but she was only halfway there when Kroenen seized her arm in a grip that felt like steel hawsers. I guess I only damaged his wrist, she thought dazedly.
Kroenen swung her around and threw her against a stone wall so hard that she actually bounced off of it. Erica gasped for breath and staggered as Kroenen rapidly closed in on her. As his arms reached towards her, she half-raised an arm in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but she was too slow. His arms thrust out at her, pushing her against the wall so hard that her skull crashed against it and stars exploded in front of her eyes. Her limbs felt like lead—she couldn't move fast enough. It was like the air had turned into frozen mud. A second later she could feel the stones biting into her back as he crushed her exhausted body against the stone wall. She struggled weakly, straining to escape, but she knew it was no use. He had trapped her against the wall.
She shook as she gazed up at his frowning mask in terror and could see her reflection staring back at her from the dark lenses that hid his lidless blue eyes. The hellish light from the explosions and the cold glare of the lightning threw shadows over his mask. And as the cold night air rasped in her throat and her heart hammered in her chest Erica knew she was staring into the face of Death himself. She gaped up at him as he raised his arm, her eyes locked on the cold blade as he aimed the lethally sharp point at her. He leaned in towards her, his clockwork ticking ominously and echoing every thundering beat of her own heart.
"No second chances this time," Kroenen hissed, "Now you will pay for your treachery!"
She watched frozen with horror as the blade rushed at her in a blur of silver—and then she was screaming in agony as Kroenen violently thrust the blade into her shoulder, slicing through skin and muscle until the blade struck bone and stopped. A strange, sickening sensation swept over her, accompanying the excruciating pain: she could actually feel the blade embedded in her shoulder and it was as icy and sharp as an icicle. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything but stare straight ahead at Kroenen and feel the metal embedded in her shoulder. But even then she wasn't really seeing. She was only dimly aware that he moved and only really recognized it when the icicle piercing her tugged. A pained, struggling gasp escaped her parted lips as he jerked the blade free of her shoulder. He stepped away from her, and suddenly finding herself free, she staggered and nearly fell. A haze seemed to descend on her brain and in a dazed, automatic way, she retracted her wrist blades before she leaned back against the wall for support. Tears slid freely down her face as her pale hands clutched spider-like at her wounded shoulder. She could feel a hot, thick liquid sliding over her skin and soaking through her clothes. Erica awkwardly pulled her hands away from her shoulder and glanced down at the bloody wound. She immediately looked away as bile rose in her throat. Dizziness overcame her. Her legs buckled under her and she slowly slid down the wall, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
Erica collapsed onto the muddy ground and leaned back against the wall. She stared at the ground soaked with rain and blood as she tried to deal with the pain. Her eyes fell on something so unusual that she focused all of her attention on it. It was a single blood red rose, the same rose that Kroenen had given to her only hours ago. So beautiful, she thought dazedly, But like me, laying in the mud. A boot abruptly crashed down on the rose, crushing it into the mud. The pair of boots took a few more steps towards her and then stopped a few inches away. Erica summoned all her energy and looked up. She found herself at Kroenen's feet, looking up at his mask and bloodstained leather uniform. Tiny vein-like rivers of blood were tracing their way down his wrist blades, left in the wake of a few large crimson droplets. Kroenen looked down at her, the round glass eyes of his mask flashing in the glare of the floodlights. Go ahead and watch me die, she thought bitterly as she gasped for breath. Almost instantly the tone of her thoughts switched direction, I'm sorry, so sorry. Each breath she took was painful, like her lungs were being stabbed with a knife each time she inhaled. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. And it was because of that sound that she was slowly beginning to realize something that was shocking.
She was alive. He hadn't stabbed her in the heart—it was still beating!
Why didn't he kill me? She wondered, Why only wound me?
Kroenen looked down at the beautifully ruined young woman lying at his feet. Her face was turned up to him and tears were spilling down her face and mingling with the cold rain. Her skin was unnaturally pale in the light, almost as if she were dead, and her hair was soaking wet and clinging to her neck and cheeks. For him the expression of agony in Erica's grey eyes was heart-wrenching—even though he didn't have one. And think how horrible it would be if I hadn't had a change of heart at the last minute. He shuddered. Because of his momentum he hadn't been able to stop. Instead he had altered the angle of the blade so it would wound Erica instead of killing her.
Even now he could 'hear' the Ogdru Jahad roaring at him in fury, their voices like acid and fire in his head. What are you doing? Kill her! They demanded.
But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't do it. He, Hitler's Top Assassin, couldn't bring himself to kill her. How could he kill someone that was like his own daughter? And that was it, he just couldn't, no matter what she had done or what the Ogdru Jahad said. He knew he couldn't bear to see her dead body and know that it had been he who had killed her. No, the Ogdru Jahad's wrath would be nowhere near as bad as that. But that didn't mean that he had forgiven her—he was still furious at her.
Mark her, then, the Ogdru Jahad ordered, Mark her so you can find her again!
Almost before he knew what he was doing he was reaching towards her face. He made two quick slashes with his blades and two bloody cuts appeared on her left cheek, a long vertical one topped by a slightly slanted horizontal one. Erica gave a cry and raised her hand to the bloody gashes cut into her left cheek in the shape of a 'T'. She gingerly fingered the gashes and her fingers came away stained crimson with blood.
"'T' for traitor." Kroenen hissed in explanation.
Erica's dazed brain grasped at a faint hope. He's not going to kill me, she thought in wonder. She looked up at Kroenen as he stood over her for a moment more and he looked down at her, one arm and blade half raised as if in indecision.
Just beyond Kroenen she saw something move. Erica tore her eyes away from Kroenen and looked past him to see that an Allied soldier had turned away from the fight. He was staring at them, though he didn't seem to understand what was going on. But it didn't look like he cared, because a look of triumph came over the soldier's face as he raised his gun and took careful aim at Kroenen's back. Clearly the soldier was hoping to get credit for dispatching the infamous Top Assassin.
Kroenen noticed that Erica was looking past him and started to turn around—and at that moment the Allied soldier pulled the trigger. The bullet tore into Kroenen's back and he whirled around, blades raised. The Allied soldier looked astonished that Kroenen wasn't dead, but his astonishment quickly turned into shock as Kroenen ran him through. Kroenen forced himself not to look back at Erica and continued forward, slicing and dicing every enemy soldier that came near him. And that was when he spotted the man Erica had tried to protect crawling towards a wounded soldier that was lying on the ground.
Ah, Professor Broom, Kroenen thought, as he recognized the paranormal advisor and strode towards him, Another American nuisance soon to be dealt with.
From where she lay at the bottom on the wall, Erica saw Kroenen start towards Professor Broom. Still gasping for breath, she opened her mouth to try to warn the Professor, but only a hoarse moan came out. It was like a nightmare within a nightmare where she was trying to scream but couldn't. Erica watched helplessly, praying that someone would intervene.
Professor Broom crawled awkwardly over the ground, his knee throbbing painfully. But his goal was in sight! He reached out a hand, his eyes locked on the grenade, his heart leaping because he knew there was a chance to end this—when he head the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him. Broom swallowed hard and barely daring to look, he looked over his shoulder. The sight that met him stopped his heart cold. Kroenen was striding towards him! The Professor forced himself to look away and reached for the grenade on the soldier's belt, his heart pounding so fast that the sound of it drowned out the commotion of the battle. Broom kept reaching, trying to ignore the spine-tingling sound of shrieking metal as Kroenen crossed the blades and slid one down the length of the other—the Professor grabbed the grenade—the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt Kroenen loom over him—The Professor's numb fingers fumbled hastily with the grenade as he tried to pull out the pin—
A few meters away, Sergeant Whitman saw Kroenen raise his blades over Broom's crouched figure. Without thinking, Whitman aimed his gun—and fired four shots.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Kroenen looked down in bemusement as the bullets slammed into his chest. On the ground Professor Broom briefly glanced up before once again fumbling with the grenade. Above him he could hear the ticking of broken clockwork and the harsh sound of damaged gears grinding together. A few meters away, Sergeant Whitman stared, shocked that the bullets hadn't been enough to kill the clockwork assassin.
Kroenen raised his blades, about to slice into Professor Broom's spine—when he heard the soft ringing sound of a grenade pin being dropped on the cobblestones. And then, to Kroenen's alarm, the Professor threw the grenade—right at the generator.
Kroenen's lidless eyes followed the arcing path of the grenade as it flew through the air and landed on the portal generator— and wedged itself under the spinning metal ring. Quickly, Kroenen retracted his knives and ran as fast as he could to the generator. He lunged for the grenade, his fingers reaching as far as they would go, groping and trying to grasp the grenade with his left hand. Unfortunately his damaged wrist wasn't working properly anymore, and bones were grinding on bones and making it hard to move. Kroenen reached too far and the spinning ring shredded the cuff of his jacket as he reached for the grenade. If he went any closer he would lose his hand, but if he didn't the grenade would explode! And if that happened he knew it would be the end of the Nazis. What a choice. It just had to fall in the most inaccessible place, Kroenen thought as he desperately tried to wriggle closer to the grenade. Precious seconds had already been wasted. I must reach it! he thought, The plan mustnot fail!
Erica watched Kroenen as he reached for the grenade. Her heart was in her throat. She knew someone had to distract him or he would grab the grenade. But if he doesn't, he'll be there when it explodes and— she forced herself not to think about that. There were much more important things at stake than Kroenen's life—more important than her own life. She saw his fingers inch closer and in desperation she called out to him.
"KARL!" Erica yelled, her voice cracking as she cried out.
Kroenen turned his masked face towards her. Karl? He thought, She's never called me that before. Never. He gazed at her pale, despair filled face. But what really held his attention was that at the same time her cry had been a distraction it had also been warning, telling him to get away before the grenade exploded.
"Checkmate!" Erica shouted, her voice ringing out. She smiled sadly. "Finally, you lose!"
And then the grenade exploded!
There was a flash of blinding light and a blast of heat accompanied by a deafening boom as the crystal inside the generator shattered, adding even more strength to the explosion. The next thing Kroenen knew he was flung through the air, propelled by the force of the explosion. Kroenen screamed, his limbs thrashing like a spider picked up by one leg—his flight ended abruptly as he felt his back smash into a stone column with bone breaking force. He bounced off of the stone column and then stumbled backwards and crashed into it again. He stood there for a moment, trying to orient himself. His head felt like it was spinning, he had no idea which way was up—
"Uunhuff." Kroenen moaned.
A long piece of shrapnel pierced him through the stomach, pinning him to the column like an insect. He could feel a small 'explosion' inside him as several as his vertebrae were crushed. His left hand felt strangely numb and he looked down. The explosion had finished what Erica had started—his hand was irreparably destroyed. Suddenly he heard Grigory start screaming.
Grigory's face was distorted and his body was contorting and breaking. Kroenen watched as Grigory turned his head and looked at Erica, his eyes burning and his face contorted with rage.
"Acire!" Grigory shrieked, his eyes wild.
Erica stared at Grigory as if she were transfixed. Pieces of Grigory's skin started separating from his body as he was pulled towards the portal. Ilsa stared at her lover in anguish and, as his eyes were sucked into the portal, she scrambled away from the steps and ran. Grigory shrieked as he was pulled through the air towards the rapidly shrinking cosmic slit, and he stuck to it for a moment before his body was folded backwards with a sharp snap of bones. His gave an ear-splitting scream of despair as he was pulled through, and his shriek echoed in the air long after he had disappeared.
The cosmic slit continued shrinking as the smoldering, smoking remnants of generator's ring—now resembling a crescent because of the explosion—halfheartedly spun around as it slowed down. Kroenen bowed his head in defeat. Damn her! He thought.
Erica watched as Sergeant Whitman helped Broom to stand and then her eyes locked on the rapidly shrinking portal. Everything will be alright now, she thought, a small satisfied smile on her lips, It was worth it. I'm sure it was…
All of her energy gave out and her muscles suddenly relaxed. Her body slumped sideways into the mud and her head lolled crazily on her neck. God, I hurt all over, she thought weakly, I've never been wounded this badly. She dimly overheard Professor Broom talking to another soldier, but she didn't really care what they were saying. She couldn't move anyway, so what did it matter? Her eyes fell on the column where Kroenen was pinned. He was only a few meters away, and his head was slumped forwards onto his chest. I wonder if he's dead, she thought dazedly, It would be terrible if he was, but maybe it would be just as bad if he was alive. Of course, he can't really die because he's undead…I wonder if I'm suffering from blood loss? All of my thoughts are so random and everything feels like it's fading away…except for the pain, of course…I wonder if Kroenen is dead?
She had a vague sense of remorse and guilt— but then she saw him move.
Erica's breath caught in her throat as she watched him raise his right arm and begin cutting through his torso with rough, awkward movements. It made her sick just to watch him and imagine what it would feel like to have the same things happen to her. She heard some of his bones snap and saw white sand pour out of his wounds as he tore himself loose. He tumbled onto the ground and then slowly, laboriously, stood up. Her heart froze as the mask looked malevolently in her direction and she could do nothing but watch as he slunk past some Allied soldiers and crept towards her, slipping from shadow to shadow. His movements weren't as graceful or controlled as they usually were— he tottered and stumbled as he walked and his torso was hunched forward because of his back injuries.
A few feet away from her Kroenen collapsed. Damn it! he silently cursed. He glanced towards Erica again. He knew she was barely alive: he could see the crimson blood staining the front of her black SS uniform and he could hear her ragged breathing. For a brief moment he took delight in the though that he might have punctured one of her lungs, but besides knowing this wasn't true, he knew he didn't want her to die. Such a bizarre conflict of emotions, he thought.
He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, and keeping to the shadows, he crawled over to the wall where she lay. Her gray eyes followed him as he knelt down in the mud beside her bloodstained and broken body. His eyes settled for a moment on the bloody hole in her shoulder, and he quickly looked away from it in an effort to suppress a wave of emotion that he realized was guilt. Erica had a dazed expression on her face, but there was a hint of concern in her expression as her eyes traveled to the extensive wounds on his torso. Already the black-brown mud around him was covered in a light dusting of white sand that was trickling from his wounds. Kroenen could hear the air rasping though his mask as he panted—he knew he didn't have much time before he would have to make his way down to the shore where—hopefully—the Nazi ships would be waiting for him. Ilsa and any of the others that had survived were probably already on their way there.
On impulse, Kroenen reached out one gloved hand to touch Erica's face and, quite understandably, she flinched away from him.
"I won't kill you," he whispered, "Not now. But I won't save you either. I can't take you back with us. Ilsa would kill you for what you've done." He thought for a moment. "In fact, I might kill you if I took you with me—but I might not. It's better for you to stay here. You have a better chance of surviving with your new friends."
His voice was bitter as he finished his sentence.
"Kroenen—" Erica choked out, her voice barely above a whisper, "Forgive me. I didn't—I couldn't—"
An expression of frustration crossed her face as she struggled to make her tongue and mouth obey her. But it was as if they belonged to another person—so she gave up and fell silent.
Kroenen reached into one of his pockets and pulled out something that sparkled in the dim light. "Here," he said contemptuously, pressing her crucifix into her hand, "You'll need this. God can't save you, Erica. He can't save you—not from me."
Her fingers curled around the broken chain of her necklace and she held it to her chest like a child holds a favorite stuffed animal. She looked up at him in confusion.
"Yes, you'll live, Erica. I don't think your new allies will kill you. You're much too valuable for that. And as long as they find you soon you won't have to worry about bleeding to death. But even they can't save you. No one and nothing can save you from me."
"I know." Erica answered, forcing the words out. Her voice barely audible. A tear ran down her cheek.
"I will find you. I'll find you no matter where you go." Kroenen whispered softly. "I'll find you, my Angel of Death."
Erica couldn't tell from the tone in his voice whether he was trying to threaten her or comfort her. She wasn't even sure if he knew.
Kroenen gently brushed the long, wet strands of hair away from her pale face and then wiped away the tears and raindrops that dotted her cheeks. The gesture was both comforting and somehow harsh. It was very strange, considering that a few minutes ago he had been trying to kill her. Erica had no energy to try to resist, so she let him do it, absently wondering if the gesture was his way of silently saying 'I'm sorry'. She felt his fingers trail over the 'T' shaped gashes on her face and she flinched in pain. She felt his fingers stiffen as if anger was welling up in him again.
"The deepest pit of Hell is reserved for betrayers, Erica," Kroenen murmured, gently tracing around the 'T' with his fingers, "You may have tried to escape us, you may have tried to escape Hell, but your actions have condemned you to the fiery pit. But don't worry, at least you'll have us there for company. Heaven would be so lonely for you, would it not?"
His voice was mocking, even to his own ears. He gazed down at her as he heard the Allied soldiers beginning to move again. Kroenen knew he had to leave or risk being caught.
"Auf Wiedersehen," he whispered to her as he stood up, "And remember, I'll find you, though Heaven bar the way!"
He melted into the shadows, disappearing into the rain and darkness, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Allied soldiers.
XXXXX
It was still raining. Professor Broom leaned on Matlin for support as they walked through the ancient abbey ruins that had become a modern battlefield.
Suddenly, Matlin came to an abrupt halt so quickly that Professor Broom nearly fell. Broom's injured knee twinged painfully and he gasped. As soon as the pain faded he glanced up at Matlin's pale and fear filled face. Instantly Broom followed the soldier's gaze to a nearby stone column.
"He's gone!" cried Matlin in surprise.
It was true. Kroenen was gone. Embedded in the column where Kroenen had been pinned was one metal rail and nothing more.
"For now." replied Broom, knowing instinctively that he hadn't seen the last of the clockwork assassin.
Allied soldiers passed by them and Broom watched as the soldiers spread out, using their flashlights to scour through the rubble. Every one of them had a rosary hanging from their bayonet. Courtesy of myself, of course, Broom thought grimly, clutching the leather strap of his wooden box in his free hand.
It had been a very strange night, even for someone who was used to the paranormal. And among all the odd and terrible things he had witnessed, one thing stood out in the Professor's mind: Erica Schwarz. Why did she protect me? Why did she spare my life? She had the perfect opportunity to kill me, Broom thought, And why was she fighting Kroenen? I know I saw it, but it doesn't make any sense!
"Come on, Professor," said Matlin kindly, "Let's find a place where you can get out of the rain and fix up that leg."
"Alright." Broom said, and Matlin began steering him towards a section of the ruins. As they went they passed a soldier shining his flashlight along the base of a wall.
"Holy crap!" yelled the soldier.
Startled by the man's shout, Matlin jumped and whirled around, pulling the Professor along with him.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Professor Broom protested, "Careful! My leg!"
"Sorry." apologized Matlin.
Sergeant Whitman and several other soldiers came running over as the man that had yelled continued to shout.
"I've got a live one here!" the man hollered.
Matlin and the Professor shuffled over to the growing ring of soldiers surrounding a figure laying in the mud at the base of the wall. Matlin elbowed a few soldiers out of the way so he and Broom were in the front. As Broom gazed down at the figure hidden in shadow, his eyes were drawn to a red object laying in the mud at his feet. He looked down at it in astonishment. It was a crimson rose!
Just like the one Erica Schwarz had in her pocket! Broom thought.
His heart froze as some sixth sense seemed to tell him who the figure lying in the mud had to be. Filled with a mixture of dread and curiosity, the Professor's eyes traveled over the figure as a soldier turned a flashlight toward it. Black boots, a black S.S. uniform, a heavily bloodstained jacket, a swastika, an Iron Cross— His eyes fell on a pale, feminine face and he saw the young woman's left cheek was marred by a bloody gash in the shape of a "T". Broom stared at her in shock, hardly able to believe his eyes.
Her grey eyes turned slowly up to him.
"Professor Broom." she said hoarsely, a weak smile on her lips.
"Erica Schwarz." Broom said. Then, realizing what she had said, "How did you know my name?"
But The Angel of Death didn't answer him, because at that moment all of the Allied soldiers' guns snapped towards her, and in an instant she registered one fact: each soldier had a gun out, and every gun was pointing straight at her!
Author's Notes: Mwhahaha! Another Cliffie! The next chapter is the Epilogue, and you'll find out what happens to Erica, and what I decided should happen to Von Krupt, since no one could tell me otherwise. And I guess I'll come up with somewhere for Ilsa and Kroenen to go to, since I have no idea where they're supposed to go…I hope everyone got the 'checkmate' thing, it's based on the fact that she always lost when she and Kroenen played chess. I still need your help on the sequel I'm starting, so please send me ideas! Should Erica and Kroenen hate each other? Love-hate relationship? Or what? Anyways, please tell me what you think and review!