Primary Fault: The Schattenreich, #1

Chapter 1

My mother would be all alone now. Red lobelia and rudbeckia fell from my hand in a crimson and yellow scatterplot over her grave. Tears escaped as I bent to gather the flowers into a bouquet.

The man standing next to me had an easy elegance about him most women liked. Most women also included my mother. I had understood her attraction to him but not the glue that kept them together.

I rose, fighting irritation that clogged my throat. What are you doing here, Richey?

Richey had loved my mother, had a right to visit her grave. But why now? He pretended to study the flowers as I wiped my face dry on my sleeve.

She would have liked them better the other way, I’m sure, Richey said, a faint German lilt to his words. Alison never did care much for convention.

True. I drew in a breath of crisp October air and took a last look around.

Worn stones beneath willow and pine set this small section of cemetery apart from the grassy plots framed by hills undulating across the horizon. The sunken and crumbling markers could have been forsaken dispatches from the underworld.

I turned back to him. I’ve got to go soon.

I came for a couple of reasons. First, your postcard said you were leaving Fredericksburg. It sounded rather final. Are you leaving Texas for good? His blue eyes seemed troubled. I wanted to wish you a good journey.

Leaving, yes. I shrugged in answer to his question. I didn’t think it would matter to you. A phone call would have done the trick.

Is there a particular reason you’re going away just now?

Not that particular. Call it ‘tired of going it alone’.

Richey and I had only one interest in common: my mother. Since her death, there seemed no reason for our paths to cross. I’d seen him just once since her funeral, when he visited me in the hospital. Richey had always maintained his reserve around me when she was alive, which made his sudden interest in me now confusing.

Believe it or not, I understand perfectly. And you do matter to me, Caitlin. Sometime I hope I can explain it to you. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sealed envelope. This letter has some answers. Alison entrusted me with it. It’s for you.

The letter, my mother’s graceful script adorning the envelope, was addressed to me. I held out my hand, but he put the envelope back in his jacket.

That’s just a hair short of infuriating. I calmed myself and breathed out audibly. I don’t have time for this. I have to be on a plane to Amsterdam in a few hours.

She instructed me to give you the letter only after you had moved back to Germany. She knew you would go to Augustus eventually.

Semantics. I will be there tomorrow. Isn’t that good enough? I forced my mouth into a thin, compressed line, suppressing words that would terminate the polite tone that had already begun to leach from our exchange.

There is one other reason I’ve come. He combed fingers through dark hair. The gray streaks nudged him even higher on the good looks scale. She made a request of me. If it came to pass…she wanted her remains returned home.

To Germany? When did she request that?

She doesn’t belong here, he said with authority. He looked at the well-tended rectangle of earth again, his words almost a whisper. We made a pact. A very long time ago. Richey glided his palm along the top of the small gravestone, good Texas granite shot through with rare blue quartz.

Gus and I called in all our favors to get that piece of rock.

I’ll have it moved with her, of course.

Sounds expensive.

He shrugged. If it’s important to you and Augustus, it would have been important to her. That makes it worth the expense.

Richey. Here he was, appearing unannounced at the last possible minute bearing mystery letters and secret pacts. But it didn’t change anything. My mother was dead, despite my most desperate fantasies to the contrary.

You know, it’s not like she’s just left us, I said. It’s been three years. Why in hell didn’t you say anything to me before now? Or Gus? Neither one of us would have denied her last wishes.

Because it was something she asked me to do. He let his hands drop to his sides. And because I needed to come to terms with her being gone.

That makes two of us. Besides Gus, she was all I really had. I crammed my fingers in my pockets at the thought of her grave being disturbed. But I still had one last place to visit and a plane to catch. If he wanted to play it that way, I’d just have to accept it. I’ll talk it over with Gus. When were you thinking about moving her?

He nodded. It will take me a while to organize everything. I’ll be in touch. His eyes met mine, and the hint of worry in them puzzled me. Caitlin—

It’s okay. Just send the letter along. You have Gus’s new address?

He nodded again, swallowing. It’s just this. Remember the journeys you made with Alison in the garden?

I closed my eyes briefly, remembering the mind game we played when I was little. Journeys to the Otherworld, she called it. Forbidden with a speck of dangerous, she had said, making me laugh. I had loved it.

I kept my voice tuned low to mask my apprehension. She told you? Those games were our secret.

Richey took a deep breath and touched his fingers to my shoulders. I don’t mean to alarm you. But the truth is, it wasn’t a game. The journeys were real. As real as you and I are.

Oh, yeah? If you only knew how many times I’ve questioned the reality of my existence this past year. But, sure. I know what you mean. They were real. Like memories. As real as you want to make them.

My words brought a hint of trouble to his eyes. I’d seen that look before when he and my mother argued. I also wanted to warn you.

About what? I took a step back to break the connection between us, a queasy feeling coming over me.

You have a lot of catching up to do now. I suspect your life is about to become quite complicated.

This was the other side of Richey—cryptic and a little peculiar. I reckoned it was all a part of his tall, dark and handsome gig. I rubbed my palms on my jeans to curb the agitation twirling my stomach into a rope. Time to get a move on.

"Let’s hope so. Leb wohl, Richey." I turned away from him.

Das Schattenreich, the Smoke Dragon’s Glen

Erich visualized the rock face in his mind’s eye. Parallel to its base, a stream flowed on its way to join the river nearby. Halfway along the rock face, between the linden trees bordering the glen he stood in and the stone bridge that guarded the entrance to Ande-dubnos, and at exactly this time of day, the charcoal gray basalt framing the pale pink inclusions would be precisely rendering a dragon spreading its wings. If he dared venture that far, he knew he would see the beauty of those wings, iridescent in the sunlight that hit the rock at just the right angle.

For now, though, he paced through the valley of the glen, reluctant to penetrate the wall of trees. Its quiet beauty evoked memories and pried open emotions he had locked away since Alison’s death, the last time he had ventured here, to this corner of the Schattenreich. He lowered himself to the grass near a small pile of partially buried stones where water from another stream, this one underground, babbled to the surface before disappearing again a few meters away.

Which of his ancestors had fashioned this place was knowledge lost in the fog of wars and collapsed dynasties over the centuries. A sacred place, the glen was a part of his inheritance. Erich had left it unchanged except for the patch of low-growing wildflowers he had added near the bridge to delight Alison. She had reveled in the simple beauty of the tiny precious gems sparkling with morning dew. They would not bloom again until spring when they would remind him he still missed her terribly.

As Erich was completing his relaxation ritual, he heard footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes.

Hello, Erich.

Sebastian. My god, it’s been a long time. A few laugh lines. And the gray hair, but otherwise no trace of age that I can see.

His cousin stood over him but did not smile at the sarcasm. I do laugh; just not often. You have acquired a good amount of gray yourself.

Erich endured Sebastian’s appraisal. He supposed he had it coming. He had not attempted to contact Sebastian in over two decades, ever since he had assumed the identity of Richey Rivers.

You look different. Has maturity caught up with you? Sebastian asked.

Erich knew the answer to Sebastian’s question but now was not the time to reveal it. It was grief that had marked him. I wasn’t expecting you, but I was hoping to find you. He gestured to Sebastian to sit across from him. I was just starting mediation. How did you know I was here?

I’ve been monitoring the entrances to Ande-dubnos for some time. Sebastian folded his legs under him with the agility of a much younger man. Mediating? Are you planning a journey?

Erich glanced towards the bridge. Is there a reason they need to be monitored or is it just a hobby?

There have been incursions into the Schattenreich. They have been increasing. Sebastian frowned and placed his hands over his knees. Why are you here just now? If you wish to reclaim your title, it could be a problem. Hagen and Heinrich have taken over the family duties in every sense of the word. Sebastian put his palms together. As he pulled them apart, he held a book bound in leather, held closed by an iron clasp. Would you like to hear about their journeys into Ande-dubnos?

Erich sighed. He wanted to hear all of their tales. And about the years of their lives he had missed. ‘Why are you here just now?’ Caitlin had asked him essentially the same question.

There was much he needed to tell Sebastian, but couldn’t. Not yet. He had his own journey to make into Ande-dubnos in a couple of weeks. The thought of being able to fly again on gossamer wings quickened his heart. Samhain, or Kala-Goañv as the family called it, would be the right time to cross over. And he had to arrange for a new resting place for Alison, one appropriate to her heritage.

Yes, Erich said. I mean, no, it’s nothing like that. I gave up my claim years ago. He rubbed his brow. There is a girl.

Ah, a potential new addition to your collection of broken hearts?

Bastian, please. That is not fair. You as well as anyone should know that. Erich shifted his posture and snapped his fingers. The illustrated card that appeared in his left hand depicted a full moon shining onto a slender woman. Her semi-transparent white gown clung to her body as her long wavy hair tumbled around her. She stared at her reflection in a pool of water. A young woman. She is on her way to Germany. It is quite probable your paths will cross. Promise me you will look after her? He gave the card to Sebastian.

Hmm. A card symbolizing the moon goddess. Nicely drawn. She—

Thanks. Just a reminder in case you meet her.

Are you dabbling in Oracles?

Yes, a bit.

I’m overwhelmed by the flood of information. Sebastian frowned as he studied the card.

Erich knew the source of Sebastian’s troubled look, the grief he still carried, but hoped for his cousin’s sake that the secrets would hold for a short while longer.

Does she look like that?

Erich regarded the card for a moment. In some ways.

Precisely what my life lacks. A woman of mystery. What about you? Are you returning?

Erich nodded. It may take me some time. There are several things I need to take care of first. Look for me before the solstice.

"Sehr gut." Sebastian rose to leave.

Oh, and one more thing, Bastian.

The younger man waited.

Erich thought of all the things he wanted to say to his cousin. He picked just one. Thanks for raising them; the boys. The duty should have fallen to me.

They will be curious to see you again. Until then.

Sebastian left. Erich rubbed his brow and focused his thoughts.

Chapter 2

Day 1, 1:30 p.m.

Shoved and jostled across the baggage claim, my arms and legs fought through an aether of jet lag Jello. Fatigue fogged my brain. It felt as if someone had jerked off my neurons, causing most of them to fire prematurely. Anatomical delusions, Schwarzbach. Not good . The first few bags trickled by. Disjointed brooding set in.

Gus hadn’t sent any pictures since his last visit. Had my brother changed much over the last year? My hand moved automatically to the scar on my hip before I stopped myself. It had started to fade but was still bright enough to remind me of wasted time and lost chances—my constant companions since the accident.

Our last phone call had ended with a short question and answer session.

What are your plans, Cat?

I don’t have any, Gus.

None, null, nada. Except one. Pulling up stakes. A thrill of fear coursed through me, curtailed by sharp pain as the German guy standing next to me ran over my foot with his cart. I yelped and stared him down. He ignored me. I moved away from him to wait for my luggage near the woman who had sat next to me on the connecting flight from Amsterdam to Cologne.

Her hand flapped in agitation as she talked on her cell phone. In comparison to her, my curves barely qualified as such. She could have been older than me but certainly not much, a thirty-something with classic Nordic beauty—blonde hair, blue eyes framed by long lashes and fair but radiant skin that turned heads. She frowned at me a couple of times, and I heard her say something in German about an earthquake. Still conversing, she clicked away on slender legs powered by pricey pumps and departed the baggage claim without retrieving any luggage.

My attention returned to the belt and my two bags, escaping. Upon clearing customs, automatic doors parted to a sea of faces, its surface sprinkled with flowers and upheld children, but no beaming face looking my way.

The crowd around the baggage claim exit thinned out until the only unclaimed article was me, pushing my cart around aimlessly. The beautiful blonde strode past, still holding the phone to her ear. A rumble of ground drew my attention downward. Out of all proportion to the phenomenon, I felt myself grow faint. The glass walls of the terminal building vibrated for one or two seconds. The sky, visible through the glass, and a weak overcast gray a minute earlier, darkened to murky twilight as if the sun had been eclipsed. My knees buckled. I fought to hold myself up by gripping the baggage cart and propping it still with my foot. Nausea set in, and I felt everything shift, my arms falling away from the cart as I fell to the floor.

When I awoke—a quick glance at my watch said only a few seconds had gone by—the blonde woman stood above me, facing away with her arms raised. She spared me a surprised glance followed by a smug smile. The long evening dress in contours of shiny satin and lace she now wore streamed out in back of her, cinched tight at her narrow waist. Her hair flew above her shoulders as if electrified. A dozen ravens flapped about in a circle over her head.

She lunged forward. Her hands disappeared—into the glass wall of the terminal. Arms and legs tensed as she leaned backwards, struggling with something. Whatever the something was, it resisted. Her tugging ceased, and she stumbled two steps back as a man emerged. The glass wall shimmered, a pale lavender gray, like a veil of opaque air behind him.

I recognized the man as my brother Gus. He started in my direction. There he is. Silly me, I never thought to look for him in the glass. He looked changed, older, more rugged. He also looked out of kilter. I grew faint again as he dragged me across the floor.

Hey, Gus. Wait! I’m having a dizzy spell. What are you doing?

Either he didn’t hear me or was in a terrific hurry. Half his body dissolved into the glass wall again. He still held my arm, yanking me towards him. The crack of another tremor became audible just after it shook my entire body. It separated us as the glass wall bowed inward, swallowing Gus whole. That was a hell of a surface wave. My vision swam into blackness.

I opened my eyes. A voice over the intercom intoned, "Wilkommen in Bonn, Köln/Bonn." The sky had returned to normal. The blonde had vanished as if she’d never been there. Gus wasn’t in the glass wall, which had reacquired its usual transparent, but solid, properties. I stared at the floor and took deep breaths, hoping skies and glass and earth would continue to cooperate by not making any sudden moves. After the Wilkommen chant repeated for the fourth time, I realized the inflection was meant to mimic 007’s urbane introduction. Oh my god, did that really happen?

Miss Schwarzbach? Caitlin Schwarzbach?

I turned to face a wiry young man, a few years younger than me. His blond hair sprouted in kinks and angles, like a lawn sculpture gone haywire. But he didn’t have any ravens circling his head.

Did you…where did you come from? I attempted a glare even though my eyes still hadn’t completely focused.

The blue eyes peering out of gold wire-rims accompanied a worried smile. I’m Tony Delling. Gus sent me.

After waiting in vain for more information, I spoke slowly, wondering if there was perhaps a language barrier hindering him. Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Caitie. Where’s Gus?

He looked at me oddly. Gus? Um, he sent me to pick you up. He was not coming…could not come because of an earthquake. There is a lot of activity at the institute.

You mean the earthquakes we just had?

What earthquakes?

People pushed luggage carts and rode the escalators exactly as if nothing had happened.

I felt tremors just now. The glass shook.

Tony shook his head. I didn’t feel anything on the way over here.

And I’m sure I saw Gus a minute ago...

His kind but wary stare made me doubt everything.

I continued to search the terminal as Tony and I rode the escalator up, but Gus refused to come out of any walls this time. You’ve been hallucinating, Schwarzbach. Okay, maybe I’m still ditzy from the flight. Jet lag. What earthquake were you talking about?

The one this morning.

Oh. Gus is working, then.

Tony nodded. Yes. I must take you there.

Well, that’s a relief. I thought he forgot about me.

A ray of sunshine pierced the clouds, and cool air stimulated my frayed nerves as we exited the terminal.

Your name is Tony? That’s an unusual German name.

He looked up with a shy smile. It is short for Antonio. My parents went a lot to Italy. A blush followed. Where does the name Caitlin come from?

Oh. My mother. She told me it was a derivative from the French for Katherine. She loved French names. Hers also has a French origin.

It’s a very pretty name.

I thanked him. He slid open the door of a gray VW bus, an older model but well-kept, the sides printed with Bensberg Earthquake and Archeoseismological Research and a logo of a bear holding a seismogram in its paws. We threw in my bags.

The road to Bensberg led through dense, deep forest on both sides of the road with trees of all kinds, all packed close together. By contrast, the Texas Hill Country wore its trees in loose clumps or dotted across the landscape. Tony waved a hand at the trees and began a history lesson about German Kaisers. My brain felt puréed, and Tony’s words slid right into the mash.

"And that is why it is called Königsforst," he concluded.

The King’s Forest. I nodded and faked an expression of interest while my vision of ravens flying inside the airport and flesh dissolving into glass replayed. We turned onto a side street in an upscale residential area with big houses and even bigger trees.

This doesn’t look like the university.

No, said Tony. We are not at the Uni. The observatory is here.

He pulled into the driveway of a two-storey half-timbered house bordered on one side by a sloping lawn that ended in a clump of rhododendrons, each one large enough to make a Scotsman blush with envy. The trees camouflaged neighboring houses, and a gigantic magnolia graced the middle of the yard.

Vans blocked the entrance. I picked my way past technicians snaking cables and carrying microphones, lights and cameras inside the house and approached a maelstrom of activity. My brother Gus, the real one, occupied the eye of the storm. He sat with legs splayed out in a high-backed chair. A make-up technician blotted his forehead and a bespectacled brunette asked him questions in English while holding out a microphone. He seemed to enjoy the fuss as he talked in his confident, easy-going manner and pointed to a map on the wall. I caught the end of his monologue.

We are experiencing a series of small to moderate earthquakes. This morning’s quake had a local magnitude of 4.3. Nothing unusual for the northern Rhineland. We cannot, of course, predict future occurrences, and we also cannot rule out the possibility of larger events. The time scale could be a week or fifty years.

I smiled at the touch of Texas that still decorated his English. A slim woman on the short side of petite with cascading blonde hair broke off her consultation with camera and sound crew to approach my brother. She emphasized something to Gus in German while gesturing at a map of the larger Cologne area with red marker pins stuck in along the outskirts. I only heard fragments of the conversation, exhaustion and my long absence from Germany interfering with my mental translation.

Gus frowned and turned away from her, agitated by what she had said. She continued to talk, trying to regain his attention. He listened with head bent as his eyes wandered the room. It took him forty-three seconds before he saw me, but it was worth the wait. His face lit up. I responded with my crazy happy grin. Gus sprang from his chair and squashed me in a welcoming bear hug. The activity in the room came to an abrupt stop as heads swiveled to watch us.

He held me at arm’s length by the shoulders. Hey, Cat-cat. God, it’s good to see you at last. You look tons better than the last time I saw you.

Their curiosity satisfied, the crews resumed working. I tilted my head as he ran a hand through his thick hair. Gus displayed none of the ruggedness of the man-in-glass, and besides a hint of gray at the temples, he also didn’t look any older than the last time I’d seen him. Eyes the color of pool water sparkling in summer sun looked me over in turn.

Sorry I couldn’t pick you up, but we are having a bit of a commotion here. Gus gestured with his chin at the chaos. I’m going to be a while yet. I’ll get Tony to take you to the house.

Hi, Gus, I said, applying a gentle punch to his arm. Forgiven. It’s good to see you, too. Can’t wait to see your house. Thinking about it has been driving me nuts.

He yelled for Antonio before putting his arm around my shoulder. He spoke again to the blonde reporter. She tensed and turned back to her crew.

Gus leaned towards my ear. These television types are always so bossy.

I looked at her in sympathy. You’re not exactly easy to manage, bro.

Hey, my job is to present facts. He waved towards the television crew. These people always want to emphasize some kind of drama.

That’s showbiz. I tried to keep a straight face.

He pinched my nose. As if the public are complete idiots. Well, that may only be a bit of exaggeration.

We watched people doing sound checks and aiming cameras at bits of the room. Lots of excitement here. What are they filming?

Probably less than thirty seconds after editing.

This is a lot of ruckus for thirty seconds.

He rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. It’s especially annoying with the Inszenierung."

I felt myself wavering as Gus gave Tony instructions. Tony mustered me into the van. After driving across endless rolling countryside, we pulled up outside a charming red brick house overgrown with wisteria and wild wine in stunning fall coats of yellow and blazing scarlet. My brain was on autopilot as Tony led me into the house and up the stairs to a bright and spacious bedroom.

I fell on the bed as the front door closed.

Blondes in black. Ravens. Shimmering veils.

Blessed forgetfulness.

The creepy but shapely blonde from the airport stood in front of me facing away across a long room. She looked into the distance as if searching. Her voice sounded distracted. Reality is not always what we imagine, is it, Caitlin Schwarzbach?

As I walked towards her, she faded away. A wrenching physical displacement followed a vibration from below, and I closed my eyes against a sudden dizziness. When I opened them, the room had changed to a meadow clearing enclosed on all sides by trees that formed a leafy canopy, open in the center. Moonlight cast the clearing in pale relief edged with shadow.

Something large flew over the trees. It’s big enough to eat you. Run away. I cringed and fought the urge to run for the trees as the huge black shadow flew in front the moon, blotting it out.

After it had gone, I noticed the woman. She stood a few feet away and had positioned herself between two men, her arms crossed and her legs spread in a fighting stance. The jeweled hilt of a sword strapped to her back jutted above her shoulders. Long, coal black hair framed a fierce expression and matching posture. She stared at me with bold dark eyes full of arrogance, but her slanted smile suggested amusement. I crossed my arms back at her.

Three fat crows with metallic black beaks and shimmering feathers picked at the grass at her feet. At the far end of the clearing, a half-dozen long-necked birds burst out of the trees and ran toward us. Ducks? The black-winged creature swooped down like a fast-moving cloud of death and gripped a duck in its distinctly reptilian beak before flying away.

The remaining ducks quacked and ran in agitated circles at the loss of their companion. The excited noises faded to the sounds of the two men gabbling at each other, augmented by angry gestures. Shadows hid their faces. They were tall, taller even than Gus, but about equal to each other in height. I caught a flash of blue eyes as they looked around and appeared to notice me for the first time.

A jolt within me accompanied a rumble of ground that threw me to my knees. When I looked up again, the clearing was deserted. Overcome with exhaustion and relieved to be alone again, I curled up on the grass to sleep.

Chapter 3

An insistent buzzing noise forced my eyes open. I rolled over. The buzzing stopped. Afternoon sunlight chased shadows on the wall and brought back a memory of flying behemoths and black-haired warrior women. Jet lag had never been this intense. The buzzing started again. A doorbell. I staggered downstairs and opened the door to a woman smiling at me out of a pleasing oval face.

Hi! You must be Caitie. She held out her hand. I’m Samantha Eschweiler, Gus’s next-door neighbor.

Hi, Samantha, I mean, Frau Eschweiler. I shook her hand. Hey, you talk like me but without the twang.

Samantha or Sam, she said. I’m partly American. Don’t ask me which parts, though.

Her easy-going friendliness made me laugh. Come on in. Gus is still at B.E.A.R.

She walked in, planting hands on hips. Oh, yeah. I forgot. The quake from this morning. He’s usually home by now on Fridays. I heard a couple of interviews with him on the radio. I didn’t even feel it. I’ll bet everyone has been calling the observatory today. He probably hasn’t had a minute’s rest. She stopped to take a breath. I have a small garden emergency.

A garden emergency?

Escaped Indian runner ducks.

What? I shook my head, remembering panicked ducks, but thankfully the dream had started to fade. The freckles sprinkled underneath her startling green eyes brought me back to the moment and made me smile. The smile turned into a yawn that I tried to stifle.

Sam turned to go. It’s okay, I’ll wait for the weekend when Gus has more time.

No, wait. Maybe I can help. Otherwise, I’ll just sleep all day. I don’t even know how long I was out.

She looked at her watch. It’s half past three.

I groaned. I had only slept about an hour. Do you have a key to get me back in?

She nodded.

Okay, then. Lead on, Sam.

Samantha rounded up six long-necked ducks as I leaned on the posthole digger to rest burning muscles. Almost a head shorter than me, she moved with a full-hipped confidence I knew most men preferred over my scrawniness. We stretched chicken wire across the posts we had sunk, and she tacked them in place as we went. She closed the makeshift gate we had cobbled together.

That will have to do for now, she said.

They look permanently windswept, I said. Can they fly?

She shook her head. Not really. But they make lovely pets. I only let them loose to eat slugs. Otherwise, they run rampant and eat everything from salad to petunias.

We entered her house. I jumped at the sound of high-pitched squealing from somewhere upstairs. Sam exclaimed loudly in German. The sounds stopped. She led me to a bar fronting an open kitchen and poured us two glasses of cold beer.

Could be banshee, but I’m guessing ‘girl’.

One girl. Three boys.

I choked on my beer. Whoa. Three against one?

Samantha laughed. My daughter Kelly. Probably being tortured by the twins.

A medium-sized human sauntered into the room. Sam spoke to him. He supplied a few monosyllables to her prompts and kicked a few scraps of Lego on his way to the couch.

My oldest, Jan-Josef, she responded to my questioning look. He’s thirteen going on world-weary.

Jan fished a hand-held gaming device from between couch pillows and disappeared again.

Pre-pube. I remember it well, I said.

The beer produced a happy laziness, and I had to concentrate to keep my eyes from drooping. I yawned to give Samantha a hint.

She started pulling out plates from the refrigerator. Here. Take a couple of these. I’ll bring the rest.

I juggled three cellophane-wrapped plates full of snacks on my arms. Uh, when do the Teuton hordes arrive?

These are just for you and Gus, she said through a giggle. I work part-time at a restaurant and sometimes get to bring home the leftovers.

She yelled commands up the stairs before opening the front door and ushering me out.

A knocking sound brought my eyes open this time. Early evening dimness blanketed the room. Still in a blissful somewhere, between wakefulness and sleep, tinged with a memory of tall blue-eyed men and ducks, I heard another knock.

Gus bustled in, droning in German into his mobile. "Okay. We can meet in the Praetorium. Four o’clock? We can do the filming there. Sehr gut. See you then. Tschüss."

He ended the call and stood over me. Well, Sleeping Beauty, time to get your butt out of bed.

My bliss blasted into smoking cinders, I yawned and stretched. What was all that about? I curled myself around a pillow, trying to avoid getting all the way to awake.

A local news channel wants to do a live film of me explaining earthquake facts tomorrow afternoon. I thought I’d have them do it in some Roman ruins to liven things up, he said. Besides, I have an appointment there afterwards.

I slipped on Texas debutante. Oh, honey. Life in the big city with a famous scientist. I jus’ love it.

Hey, Scarlett, you’ll get your chance to mix with the locals tonight.

I frowned and sat up. Why? What’s going on tonight?

You been mucking out compost? Gus wrinkled his nose as he sat next to me.

Not far off.

I have to go to the Uni. He tousled my hair.

The University of Cologne? Tonight?

Sorry, Cat.

Shit, Gus. I was hoping you and me could just hang together, you know?

Me, too. But I’m afraid it is unavoidable. Professor Werner just turned seventy and they’re throwing him a reception tonight. He rubbed my shoulder, his arm around me.

Werner was your advisor, right? I forget what that’s called in German. Why don’t you just send him a nice card?

"Doktorvater. I had already declined the invitation since you were coming, but Werner called me today to ask me personally if I would speak the laudatio for him."

I guess you couldn’t say no then, could you?

He put his hands on my shoulders as he stood. Not really. I plan on taking you with me, though, so we have a reason to escape after a polite beer or two.

I don’t know, Gus. I won’t know anyone.

That could change, he said, grinning. And my scintillating speech will wake you right up. You need to stay up for a while.

I don’t ever remember being this exhausted.

Transatlantic travel, it gets worse with age, he said. You already slept too long this afternoon.

I blinked at him. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, brother dear. I only packed my usual assortment of scruffy jeans and sweatshirts.

Gus’s eyes twinkled. I have just the thing. He left the room.

I turned over, assuming a fetal, my face in the pillow. Just five minutes.

Two minutes later,