CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

PHILLIP

“We have to go in,” Rebeka said. “He’ll need us. We have to stop the ritual—”

Simone spat on the cobbles of the alley mouth where they were watching the castle. “If the Nazis caught him, your brother is already dead.”

Phillip shrank back into the shadows as a pair of guards goose-stepped along the castle’s entrance bridge. This was insane, this was all insane. They couldn’t barge through the front door, and if Daniel had been caught sneaking in, the castle was sure to be on high alert. He wanted to help Rebeka, but as far as he could tell, the best thing they could do was send word to Simone’s Resistance contacts—maybe they could even summon military assistance from RAF pilots off in Wherever-the-Fuck-by-the-Sea—and let them handle it.

Let them handle it. Not our fight. His father’s words and Mr. Connolly’s rang in his skull. Just like the German kids they met, who’d gladly endure a death by a thousand smaller cuts if it spared them a larger single discomfort. It was easy to ignore any problem as long as paying attention hurt worse.

Phillip looked at Rebeka, the tears clumped in her dark lashes, the hard set of her jaw.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

No. The determination she set in him was.

“Your brother has a death wish,” Simone pointed out. Softer now. “We may already be too late.”

“I have to fight for him.” Rebeka tilted her head. “Just as you’re fighting, I think, for the person on the radio.”

Simone whirled on her, rifle clenched tight. “What the fuck do you know—”

“Hey! Both of you!” Phillip shouted. “None of this helps us get inside.”

Or that was what he mostly said, before the blast of energy kicked him in the chest like a drunk mule, sending him sprawling deep into the alley. Lightning burned through the sky; when he blinked, he saw the afterimage of Wewelsburg’s main tower split with a bolt that came from inside. He groaned, waiting for his vision to clear. Simone had landed somewhere to his right, and Rebeka landed on top of him.

“Oh,” she said, facing him, her eyes round with shock. He imagined his own expression was something considerably dopier.

“You all right?” he whispered.

She smiled shyly, nodded, and tucked her hair back behind her ear. He raised his hands, overcome with the urge to tuck it back, too—

Then the shards of stone began to rain down on them.

“Merde! Right in my eye.”

Simone sat up, and Rebeka did the same, scrambling off of Phillip, delicate as a hummingbird. He sat up too, and realized he wasn’t only winded from Rebeka. His whole body ached.

“What . . . what was that?” Phillip asked.

Simone finished digging around in her eye and shook the rest of the dust from her hair. “I think that was our invitation inside.”

He followed her gaze to the north tower of the castle. The bare stonework had shredded upward and split open like a trick cigar. Dark smoke spewed out of it—too dark for normal smoke. Too rank with an oily stench.

“The ritual chamber,” Rebeka said, her voice quavering.

“Got a feeling Liam has something to do with that,” Phillip said.

“What tipped you off?” Simone asked with a roll of her eyes. “The explosions?”

“Let’s hope Daniel’s with him.” Rebeka was already standing, wriggling her foot back into a loosened shoe strap, body primed to bolt.

“Rebeka, wait.” Phillip stood too. “If you’re going to charge in there, at least tell us your plan.”

“Okay. Liam wants to keep the portal open. But he can’t control it all—not for good. Not without the shadow devouring him, too. And especially not with Kreutzer and that . . . man.” Rebeka gripped his arm, pleading. “They need my help. Humans have ruined the shadow world enough. We can’t keep stealing their energy, just as they can’t keep drinking up ours. We’ll corrupt each other until there’s nothing left.”

Simone and Phillip both turned toward her, assessing. “But . . . but you can control the energy,” Simone said.

Rebeka shifted her weight, shoulders drawing up toward her ears. “No. It’s too much. There’s so many, there’s so much hatred—I’m—I’m afraid I can’t hold on.”

Phillip tapped her wrist with his fingertips. “But I’ve seen what you can do.”

She rocked back on her heels and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t want to be like those monsters. The angry ones, the vengeful ones.” Her voice broke. “It doesn’t matter who started it. We’ll tear each other’s worlds apart.”

“You’re not like them. My God, you’re not. Is that what you’re afraid of? That this connection somehow makes you . . . like them?”

“I don’t want to be this evil, ravenous thing. I don’t want to be able to control the shadows.”

“Hey. Hey, listen to me.” He placed his hands over her too-sharp shoulders, waited for her to give him a tentative nod. “You didn’t choose to have this affinity. And it isn’t because of something you did.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, but didn’t argue.

“It’s a thing that happened, all right? It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this.”

“But I could have used it. I could have used it to save our whole family. I didn’t. I’m no better than one of those things, angry and starving.”

“You saved Daniel,” Phillip said. “And you can save him still. You understand it better now. You know what it can do, for better or worse.” His voice hitched; he felt the force of Mr. Connolly’s carefree dismissal of all the harm his invention had done. But he chose to do better. He had that choice. And so did she.

Rebeka blinked. When her lids opened, her eyes were filled with blackness; her body felt thinner in his grip, like he could close his palms around her shoulders and move right through her. Then she blinked again and was herself. No—that wasn’t right. She’d always been herself. Darkness, grief, rage—why shouldn’t she feel those things? Why shouldn’t they all? What use was it to try to act so noble when fighting monsters who believed in no such thing?

“You can ignore the darkness. Pretend you don’t feel it,” Phillip said. “Or you can use it to stop people who’d use it for far worse.”

Something tugged at Rebeka’s lips: the dimmest hint of a smile. To him, it felt as warm, as real as spring.

“You’re right. I didn’t ask for any of this to happen.” She stood up straighter. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t use it now.”

Simone stepped toward them from the alley’s mouth. “It’s been almost an hour,” she said. “One more hour until I have to hail Magpie.”

“When we’re done, we have to close the bridge to the other universe. For good.” Rebeka swallowed, her slender throat bobbing. “This has to be the end of it. Otherwise it could destroy both our world and theirs.”

Phillip’s fingers moved involuntarily toward the pouch where he kept the frequency folder. It could help negate the pull of the other universe. With enough juice, he could help seal it for good. But they’d still need Liam and Rebeka to do it, too. “And you really think you can convince Liam of that?”

She drew a slow breath, twisting her fingers in the folds of her jacket. “We have to try.”

An air raid siren groaned to life on the streets beneath them.

“Shit.” Simone peered around the corner. “They’re going to call for reinforcements. If our stupid American isn’t careful, he’s going to summon the entire Wehrmacht.”

“The comms room. We’ve got to get there first. Jam their outgoing signals. Their equipment should give me the juice I need to help close the bridge, and then we can coordinate with Magpie.” Phillip gestured toward one of the triangle sides of the castle, where thorny radio antennae sprouted from it like a cruel crown. Between that and the ring of transponder towers they’d passed on their way into town, it should be more than enough.

“Magpie,” Simone echoed, glancing away. “I’m sure she’s afraid, same as us. But it’s better than being afraid alone.”

Amid the screaming sirens and rancid smoke, Simone led the charge toward the chaos of Wewelsburg Castle.