CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

SIMONE

Wewelsburg Castle was a crypt, and it was quickly suffocating them.

“This way,” Phillip called. The electric lights dotting the corridor flickered once to reveal a partially collapsed doorway, then fell dark again. “The antennae were up here.”

“The electricity’s barely working. How will we power a signal?” Simone’s heart was beating furiously, a trapped bird trying to take flight. Evangeline was waiting, just out of reach, past the shadow-touched soldiers and monsters and whispers. Evangeline had promised to find them a way out—she could summon the full force of her Resistance network—if they could just hold out—

Another flicker of electricity, enough to remind Simone of the concrete walls squeezing in around them. Her breath hitched as she reached out to steady herself. She imagined a wall of bones, crowned with countless eyeless skulls staring down at her, laughing, soaking up all her secrets to throw back in her face.

Simone forced herself off the wall and caught Phillip by the collar. In the distance: another wheezing rasp, like a thousand wordless voices. The claws scraped slow, then retreated.

Simone exhaled. “All right. Keep going.”

Rebeka was lagging behind. Simone whirled on her heel, searching the dark hallway. Breathing. There was breathing—

Another flicker exposed the entrance to a stairwell. This should be the radio tower, according to Phillip. But there was no telling if they’d have enough power, or if they could even figure out the Germans’ equipment. She needed something faster than Morse code if they were going to get aid from the Resistance. Evangeline or not, there might not be enough aid left to spare.

They climbed the stone stairs, crooked now from the explosion. Ears strained for any more signs of the shadow beasts. The lights flickered on and off, and each time, Simone swung back to check behind them. The rifle in her grip was the only thing grounding her. Well—that and the tangled nest of memories and questions in her head.

Had Evangeline been aiding them from the start? If so, why would she lie, pretend she didn’t care? Why would she let Simone scold her so, and ultimately walk away? But then there was the possibility she’d only been spurred to action after Simone left. That was no healthy exchange, either. Either way, it left Simone chilled, unsure what to trust.

Simone winced. As if she were blameless. They were both flawed, both flailing desperately to cling to a life they couldn’t control. If Evangeline had decided to help, well, perhaps Simone, too, could be willing to change. Maybe even forgive.

She looked at Phillip and Rebeka. They could have easily left her to die. True, they’d needed her to some extent, but there was more to it than that. They trusted her, and in turn, she’d shown them nothing but suspicion, annoyance, aggravation. She’d been all too ready to leave them behind, despite whatever help they could offer her. How could she fault Evangeline for doing the same?

Isn’t it better than being afraid alone? A shiver ran down her back. Yes, she’d tried so hard to do this alone. But she didn’t have to.

“Look. It must have its own generator,” Phillip said.

Sure enough, at the top of the staircase, a ribbon of light streamed out from underneath a heavy oak door. Rebeka leaned against it, but the door didn’t budge. Shoved a little harder. Phillip tried to help her, until finally Simone pushed them both out of the way and slammed her shoulder into it.

“You could have been quieter,” Phillip said. “If there’s more of those things—”

“Then I’d rather draw them out now,” Simone retorted. “Better that than stumble across one lurking behind a piece of equipment.”

“That isn’t exactly comforting,” Phillip said.

Rebeka shook her head at both of them and stormed into the radio room.

The glorious, massive radio room, full of transponders, recorders, high-powered broadcasting equipment . . .

And two SS radio operators, sidearms leveled right at them.

“Drop your weapons,” Simone barked in German. “I guarantee I’m a better shot than either of you.”

One, a plump man with Himmler-style round glasses, started to falter, but the other brought his one hand up to steady his gun arm as he tried to aim—

Simone’s shot tore straight through one hand and into his lungs, flipping him backward in his chair. The man in the glasses gasped, dropped his sidearm, and raised both hands. “I surrender!”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Simone fired square at his chest. She turned back toward Phillip and Rebeka, ready to have to defend her choice, but neither of them were about to shed any tears over dead Nazis. She swept the rest of the room and, finding no one else, gave the all-clear.

Phillip whistled low as he approached the operator’s desk. “This is gonna do nicely.” He flipped a row of switches, and the equipment hummed, ascending, at a steady pitch.

Rebeka and Simone joined him. “What do we need to do?” Simone asked.

Phillip brushed his fingertips over the equipment. “First, we’ll link up these transponders. This frequency folder is gonna need some legs.”

As Simone reached for the first set of cables, though, the earth rumbled beneath them again. Rebeka stumbled backward with a yelp, then fell eerily silent, her eyes going to that far-off place.

“What?” Simone whispered. “What is it?”

Rebeka’s lips moved for a moment before she returned to herself. “Daniel,” she said. “He’s—he’s alive. But the shadow realm—it’s eating into our own, and the angry ones, Pitr’s controlling them . . . I need to help him.” Her voice was grim. “He can’t do it alone.”

Simone’s throat tightened. With sudden, cold clarity, she realized she was afraid for this girl. She hadn’t felt fear like this for someone else since . . . She couldn’t even recall. But above all, she’d learned Rebeka was brave, and stronger than Simone could have ever imagined. It made Simone want to be strong for more than just herself, too.

“Please,” Simone whispered. “Be careful.”

Phillip hesitated, fist closing and unfurling. “Rebeka . . .”

Rebeka rushed toward him then, gripped his chin, and tugged him into a desperate kiss. Simone’s stomach flipped before she made herself look away. They deserved each other—the mad, desperate American boy and the ferocious shadow girl. Simone wished she could be deserving, too.

No. That was a lie. She could be. Maybe she already was.

When she looked back, Rebeka nodded to her once, curt, and then melted into the shadow realm.

“Um. Okay.” Phillip’s hands shook as he fiddled with the control panels once more.

Simone rested a hand on his wrist. “Deep breaths, lover boy.”

Phillip’s face turned a dark plum, and Simone couldn’t help it—she smirked. He drew a ragged breath, then returned to the console. “Let me work on the frequency. You see if you can hail your contact.”

Simone worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she dialed into the shortwave frequency. “Carpenter hailing Magpie. Magpie, come in. Over.”

She imagined her voice bouncing across Europe, against the earth covered with German forces and the sky hedged in with clouds. Imagined it worming its way through the walls of Château à Pont Allemagne. Into the narrow cubby she’d built into Evangeline’s bedroom, where they used to cram inside together and tangle into a single soul. Did Evangeline keep her radio there? Was she sitting, even now, on that soft and devouring bed where Simone had left her heart?

But there was only a heavy silence, disrupted with static hiccups as two worlds crashed together.