Shaky Ground: The Schattenreich, #2

Chapter 1

Das Schattenreich, the grassy meadow

Heinrich walked back to where Sebastian sat, removing the pipe from the pouch on his belt for the third time. After lowering himself in a single fluid motion to the grass, he began to fill it, tamping down the tobacco methodically.

You’re stalling, said Sebastian.

Very well. Heinrich placed his game piece on the board that had now been transformed into a floating sphere. The surface still resembled the children’s board game Snakes and Ladders, covered with snaky-looking tunnels and carved ladders amidst a miniature but realistic 3D landscape. His game piece, a wooden disk similar to Sebastian’s but inscribed with a triskelion, sat in a small pile of sand ringed with rocks, a crude version of a Celtic wheel of life. Heinrich spun the smaller wooden ball, crowded with bas-relief carved symbols that hung above the globe’s surface like a tiny moon. He imagined the symbols all vied with one another for supremacy.

Both men studied the grapefruit-sized ball as it continued to revolve; Heinrich’s new game piece would have to do for now. He’d recently relinquished his talisman to someone else’s keeping. Where is Caitlin now? The ball stopped, displaying an enigmatic cross.

Brighid’s symbol, said Heinrich.

His game piece jumped and moved across an unusually featureless plain in a labyrinthine pattern, including reversals as a result of spiraling dead ends, but progressing towards and finally ascending a ladder. The ladder led to a bridge. The bridge crossed a river, the movement of water visible in its depths. Another ladder descended the other side. The disk came to a halt in the middle of the bridge.

Sebastian drummed his fingers on his thighs.

Why is it now a globe? Heinrich asked.

I don’t know.

Bastian, I know what you think you’re trying to do, but I don’t understand why.

If we can’t figure out a pattern, I’m afraid we won’t be able to resolve things peacefully.

And how will knowing the pattern of things to come guarantee peace?

If I knew that, I wouldn’t need to rely on oracles, Sebastian said, drily.

Have there been more incursions?

Faint. I detected crossings through the Schattenreich, Sebastian said.

Heinrich wished he had his guitar as he glanced around. He drew deeply on his pipe. "What kind of crossings?"

Sebastian sighed. "There’s a half-human Tud loose in Cologne. Or, perhaps more accurately, there was one. He calls himself Niklas. I imagine he has been returned to Ande-dubnos. Hence one of the crossings."

Half-human? Heinrich stood and walked to the river.

Sebastian followed.

Most of them have some human heritage, Heinrich said.

Many do, yes. This one can pass for human.

What is Hagen dabbling in now? Heinrich asked.

"It’s not Hagen. The Tud attacked Caitlin Schwarzbach."

How do you know this?

Because I had the choice of helping her or restraining him. Sebastian’s clear gaze held not a hint of uncertainty regarding the choice he had made.

Heinrich watched the current carry leaves and twigs downriver. The forest Wesen delighted in such things, but mundane objects held no interest for the nymphs that swam below. They can wear beautiful faces but are dangerous, like most everything here.

Humor me, Heiner, for another turn of the wheel.

Heinrich sighed, and they returned to the game. Sebastian set the small ball in motion. It came to rest between two images, a serpent astride a doubly bent rod and one of the ancient fertility symbols, the face of a man wreathed in greenery. Sebastian stared at the symbols, putting a finger aside his nose. Heinrich relit his pipe. Two dark blue eyes considered two blue gray ones.

A chasm opened up on the globe beneath Sebastian’s wooden disk, swallowing it whole, before closing again.

Sebastian grunted in frustration. I don’t know what to make of that. Is that supposed to be you or Hagen? He pointed to the face symbol.

Heinrich drew on his pipe before answering. I would say it symbolizes both of us.

And Brighid?

A wispy tendril of intuition tickled Heinrich. Caitlin. It seems you are right. We are missing a player or two.

Sebastian nodded, crossing his arms. I knew it.

Heinrich considered while he smoked. Caitlin Schwarzbach. She is bound with me. Yet Hagen has won her over, I take it?

Sebastian sat straighter. I have assumed responsibility for the binding. As I said.

It doesn’t feel that way, Bastian. Her nearness pulls me. Heinrich exhaled dark red smoke in Sebastian’s direction.

"Then it is not due only to your bond. Something else affects you," he said.

"Perhaps. She is lovely. Heinrich looked into the distance before turning back to Sebastian. In any case, a rivalry for her affections will only worsen my relationship with Hagen."

Hagen does not know about our conspiracy yet, Sebastian admitted, frowning. I honestly didn’t think she would interest him for more than a few days.

You chose her for your aims in training someone—someone not of our blood.

Yes.

And then you gave her my talisman, Heinrich said.

No. And I haven’t figured out who did, either.

Interesting. Heinrich tuned his inflection as he would for a song meant to sway his audience. She is definitely more my type than Hagen’s, although, historically, our tastes have coincided.

Yes, Sebastian said, drawing out the word.

What will you do?

Let things run their course. Maybe he’ll have quenched his thirst with her by the time the solstice rolls around.

And if not? Heinrich watched with satisfaction as widening spirals of black smoke shot through with tiny orange flames wound around Sebastian’s head.

As I said. The responsibility is mine. I will atone for it.

Not only you, Bastian. I sense a loving heart in Caitlin. Crushing that would be a tragedy.

Perhaps you will be able to soften the blow, then? Sebastian stared fixedly at Heinrich before rising. He bowed once before disappearing. Heinrich stood and walked into the forest trailing smoke behind him.

Chapter 2

Panorama Hotel Superior, Daun, Vulkaneifel

The silver-colored coffee Thermos sparkled in Saturday morning sun.

The terrace of Gus’s hotel room in Daun overlooked a wide palette of fall colors splotched with masses of brown where leaves had already withered and fallen. My room next door had the same view but its interior was messily decorated with items of clothing pulled from shopping bags and a collection of pamphlets and books acquired the previous day at Daun’s Vulkanmuseum. After breakfast, Gus had wanted to surprise me with the extra dose of caffeine and a few minutes of quiet conversation on my balcony, but one look at the chaos and he announced coffee would be served in his room.

Hey, Gus, another cup?

My brother’s shirts and jeans were neatly hung on hangers, his hiking boots freshly waxed and ready for a day in the field. He checked his phone for messages. The faint frown that marred his face changed to a smile as he found the message he sought.

Yeah, one more. You ready for a day of fresh air and basalt?

Basalt. Sure. Where are we going?

"A part of the Deutsche Vulkanstraße. We don’t have a station this far south, but I’d like to. Daun would be a great location."

The German volcanic route. Cool. I toyed with my cup and eyed my brother after he tucked his phone away. A message from Anna?

His sheepish smile appeared. It signaled his embarrassment at admitting to his little sister that he was sweet on a girl. Her name was Anna Sturm.

I laid the still unopened letter from Richey Rivers on the table between us. I had received it a little over a week ago, before my encounter with Niklas Polifka and my swim in the Rhine, and had wanted to wait, to show it to Gus at the same time I read it.

What’s that? Gus asked.

It’s from Richey. Mama apparently wrote me a letter before she died. I’m guessing it’s inside.

He folded his hands together on the table. It was a Gus gesture; he was nervous. Don’t you want to open it?

Anything you want to tell me first?

He clenched his jaw and stared out at the forest. We can talk more after you’ve read it.

Should I read it, Gus?

Don’t make yourself crazy. Just open it.

I pried open the flap and peeked in. I unfolded the letter and saw it was from Richey. I read about Richey’s plans to move my mother from her grave. And two final paragraphs, full of mystery:

I will be in touch with you when I make my return to Germany, probably before winter holidays. There are many things we need to talk about, including your inheritance and our relationship. In the meantime, trust your instincts.

And Caitlin, know that your fears may not be unfounded but don’t let them overwhelm you. You have Augustus now.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Richey

I frowned at my brother.

What did she write? He pushed his cup around on the glass table.

I don’t know yet. Here, read it yourself. I shoved the letter at him angrily. "He promised me a letter from Mama. He showed it to me."

Gus looked up briefly from reading. Richey wants to move Mama?

He met me at her grave the day I left Fredericksburg. He’s moving back here and had promised Mama he would bring her home to Germany. They made some kind of a pact, way back when. They must have known each other for a long time.

The rest sounds mysterious, but typical for him. He exhaled slowly. I used to think he was some kind of cult follower.

I laughed. Richey? Nah. I’m sure he’s just an oddball of the more normal variety that Mama really fell for. I didn’t know she knew him for that long.

He shrugged. Me neither.

What do you think he meant by relationship?

Gus frowned. I don’t know. So where’s the letter he promised you?

My shoulders slumped. Don’t know.

Don’t let it upset you. If we don’t hear from him soon, I’ll try to get in touch with him. I wouldn’t mind having Mama near us. It would be nice to be able to visit her.

We tramped over rock, acquiring makeshift walking sticks along the way. My brother continued to relax as the morning wore on. The fresh, crisp air brought color to his cheeks and lessened the lines that had formed on his brow, the result of his recent kidnapping and subsequent incarceration.

We had packed a baguette, cheese and salami for lunch, and Gus had thoughtfully filled a Thermos with coffee before leaving the hotel. We ate just above a flat moor; the fertile landscape was all that remained of an explosive eruption less than a few thousand millennia ago, not old at all.

Volcanic violence brought Niklas Polifka to mind again. The bruises had already mostly healed, fading from sickly brownish green to gray and yellow; not attractive, but at least they no longer hurt. By mid-afternoon, the air cooled considerably as the sun slipped behind the next range of hills.

You still miss Mama as much as you used to? Gus asked as he prodded a small knee of sandstone with his Estwing, flaking off a thin lens of rock.

I try not to dwell on it, but she’s always there in my thoughts.

At least you got to say goodbye. I didn’t. Either to her or Papa. His face had darkened with a frown again.

You miss him, too, don’t you?

I hated him once.

I turned my head to him sharply. He shrugged.

Gus bent on one knee to run his hands over the rock. On the plane. That first time when I had to leave you.

I didn’t stop crying for three days, I said.

But he changed it. My hate. He told me as I sat on the plane fighting tears with anger.

Told you what?

Gus stood. Time to head back. It’s getting chilly with the sun gone.

Gus.

My brother sighed. He told me it was my job to protect you. I nearly failed. It was an awful feeling. I don’t want that to happen again.

I took his arm as we headed back to the hotel. It turned out all right this time. I tried to tell myself it was the cool air that made me shiver.

Back at the hotel Gus and I relaxed in the whirlpool, had a hearty dinner and an early bedtime. Before going to bed, I took out my wooden cat talisman, rubbing it to get that pleasurable sting of electricity. I closed my hand around it as I sank into the soft down pillow.

The trickle of water over rocks made me look up. Sebastian sat across from me studying a globe that floated between us a few centimeters above the grass.

Hey, Sebastian, good to see you.

He glanced up. Are you ready to try again, Frau Schwarzbach?

I examined the floating sphere more closely. Its surface resembled the version of the Snakes and Ladders game I had played once with a metaphysical Sebastian on my first night in Germany. The board had been flat and resembled the one Gus and I had played as kids. It had been an antique, possibly a family heirloom, although my mother had never told us where it came from. That board was hand-carved wood, highly intricate in detail, and more sinister-looking than the U.S. version, Chutes and Ladders.

This version also had wooden ladders and snakes, but looked realistically earthlike. The landscape moved as if alive. And the surface was now wrapped around a sphere. I wondered if there were fault zones and magma chambers underneath. Were there mantle, core and crust? My wooden cat stood where it had last been, between a snake and a ladder.

Sebastian sat with legs folded yoga-like, his back straight and head erect. Was this a shared dream with Sebastian? Did it have something to do with the presence of the talisman? Sebastian had alluded to my first Snakes and Ladders dream on Samhain. How was that possible? Or had he wanted me to believe he knew what I was talking about?

Frau Schwarzbach?

Sebastian. I have so many questions. Things just don’t make any sense. Why is it now a globe?

A good question. It may have something to do with evolving relationships. He bowed his head. One question. Many questions. Each question needs its own time and place. Do you have a specific question?

Specific. I could do that. Heinrich. Talisman. Being bound. I started to speak, but Sebastian stopped me with a hand upheld. Form the question in your head.

He held his hand out to the wooden ball covered with embossed symbols that hung in place above the globe, like a diminutive satellite. I couldn’t imagine anyone talented enough to have carved them all by hand. They were so perfect and so tiny.

I paused, my finger poised above the ball. The last time I had done this, Hagen snubbed me. Gus disappeared. I nearly drowned. But several other things had also happened.

I saved Gus. Hagen said he needed me, adored me. Death tipped his hat to me, a gesture I interpreted as his personal endorsement of my decision to carry on living. I had new friends, good friends. Samantha and Anna and Tony and Jacqueline. I also had new enemies. Dagmar Abel and a man with eyes like mine. Exactly like mine.

That same man followed me to Hannover and back; the man I had shared an Otherworld vision with had threatened me and was in cahoots with Dagmar. My game piece was caught between a snake and a ladder. Not neutral but a little bit of both. Who was the man with my eyes?

I spun the ball. It didn’t just turn in a single direction. It rotated left, right, and for a second appeared to reverse its direction. Anything was possible in a dream. It stopped. A symbol appeared in a small window, slightly magnified like peering through a lens. The symbol looked familiar, but I didn’t know where I’d seen it before. Sebastian started, and I was afraid he would fall over, but he just loosened his posture as we waited for the wooden cat to advance.

Heinrich’s, my, talisman ascended the ladder! At the top, it wove itself through a miniature landscape of hills and valleys, disappearing into a patch of complete darkness. I inhaled sharply. Sebastian tapped his knee. The talisman emerged from the darkness and stopped. The path in front of it split, one way leading into forest, the other to a river.

What is that symbol, Sebastian? I’ve seen it before, but I don’t remember where.

His penetrating gaze made me uneasy, and he went back to studying the sphere, craning his neck over the areas beyond the fork in the path. I felt myself growing insubstantial, fading.

He looked up quickly. You’ve heard of the yin and yang symbol the Chinese Taoists use to symbolize opposing forces that blend to a harmonious whole?

Sure. Is that what this is?

No.

Sebastian. I’m already confused enough.

I could interpret this as the sign of the twin. But that’s probably too simple.

Okay. It’s a cross bisecting forked, um, tree branches. Makes sense. Sort of.

Possibly originating from an old symbol of so-called magick. It has a multiplicity of meanings, he said.

Great. Any more clues?

I think it means you are at a crossroads, or you are about to encounter someone or something that will lead you to one.

I’ve been doing that ever since I got here.

Sebastian tilted his head. You will have to think about what it means to you. It’s a very strong symbol.

"Gee, thanks, Sebastian. I feel like I know so much more now. Should I be worried?"

No, of course not. As I told you before, you are no longer alone. He rested his hands on his thighs to signal his intention of entering a meditative state. I will also be thinking about it. We’ll have to talk more soon.

Sleep embraced me and stole me away.

Chapter 3

Monday morning, Gus’s house. The doorbell rang.

Frau Schwarzbach?

"Ja," I said to the man standing at the door.

He handed me a long box. After setting it on the dining-room table and easing the top off, I gasped.

My next-door neighbor and friend, Samantha Eschweiler, stood next to me, a cup of coffee in her hand. God, Caitie, they’re gorgeous.

While I recovered my composure, Samantha hurried home and returned with a tall glass vase. It had been just four days since Samhain and the Schlossfest. The hours spent in Hagen’s embrace in the early morning hours after the celebration had sped by on white-feathered wings. We hadn’t gotten around to talking about the talisman or otherworldly brothers. We did manage conversation, intimate exchanges, murmured between kisses and sighs.

Hagen had walked me back to my room near dawn, escorting me through the cold castle, this time devoid of any Burg Lahn ghosts. After a last kiss in my room, he took my parting gift of a peacock feather and, with a promise to get in touch, disappeared behind a swoosh of secret paneling.

I took out the dozen deep purple flowers with a yellow stripe down the middle and placed them in the vase. Irises, right?

She nodded. Expensive.

Wow, roses. The dozen budded roses were flushed a deep orange fading to creamy yellow at the tips of the buds.

A double tone is not unusual, but these are exquisite, she said.

I put them with the irises. Lordy.

She smiled. They’re divine together.

What are these? The last dozen flowers were stained a deep, dark red with a golden center.

Red chrysanthemums, said Samantha, sniffing. Not my favorite, but these don’t smell too funky. They’re really fresh.

Looking for a card, I found a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a brand new cell phone. I turned it on, and a small mailbox symbol appeared. The phone book contained most of the numbers accumulated during the time I had borrowed a cell phone from Samantha’s son, Jan-Josef, including Hagen von der Lahn as a VIP. Although I had survived my recent swim in the Rhine, Jan-Josef’s phone had not. I aimed a suspicious glance at Samantha.

She shrugged. Red mums mean ‘I love you’.

A blush warmed my cheeks. Get out of town. I thought that was red roses.

Red mums are unambiguous. Roses can mean a lot of things.

What about orange and yellow roses?

I would hazard a guess, but you’ll turn beet red.

Okay, we’ll leave that unsaid. I felt my skin turning exactly that shade of red. Irises?

Could be a lot of things. Loyalty? Or friendship.

Amazement trickled through me. Well, that covers the big three.

Does that mean what I think? she asked.

I’m in way over my head.

The man definitely knew how to make a girl smile.

The rest of the week passed—and then another—without a call from Hagen. I drove to the observatory early Friday evening to pick up Gus. He was on the phone. The lights were already off in the data acquisition room. I sat on a computer chair in the glow from the monitors, humming an old Boz Skaggs tune in time with the drum plotter motors.

Since his exoneration, the press had pestered Gus constantly. He didn’t seem to mind. Anything that would put his institute, B.E.A.R., Bensberg Earthquake and Archeoseismological Research, in a positive light he counted as a good thing. Anna Sturm had been instrumental in keeping the topic fresh and steering journalistic attitude. She had been promoted at the local television station where she worked and now had a prominent slot reporting for the evening news. At the rate they were seeing each other, things would never go stale; she and Gus had only gotten together once since Samhain.

Gus bounced into the room, grinning. Guess what, Cat?

Does it fall into any of the categories, marriage, money or Mediterranean holiday?

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he said.

Give it up, I said.

We’re going out to dinner this evening.

What’s the occasion?

Hagen’s invited us.

Hmm. Okay. Are you gonna tell me?

Nope.

K.G., stop being ornery or I might have to rev up the chainsaw.

You’ll find out tonight, he said.

Be that way.

I drove us home. Gus’s phone rang on the way. He talked briefly and hung up.

What should I wear?

Dunno. His phone rang again. Casual, he said before answering.

What kind of casual? I said quickly after he hung up again.

You know, nice casual, he said as the phone rang once more.

Back at the house, I let my hair down for the third time and changed my boots for the second time while I waited for Gus to finish the fourth call that had delayed our departure. I took out my new phone after a muted beep came from my jeans pocket. Even though Hagen hadn’t called, the mailbox symbol appeared, as it had every day since I had gotten the phone.

The first message, read one hundred and twenty three times, was now seared into my memory. ‘Liebe K., Be assured that these flowers will fade long before my desire for you has even begun to truly blossom, Bis bald. Dein, H.’

The message for today, characteristically short, read, ‘K., Tonight we dine . . . and then? H.’

‘K’ stood for Kati, the intimate nickname Hagen had given me that sent shivers through me, even in written form. Not having had the nerve to respond to the other messages and unsure what to answer, I settled for leaving things open and sent, ‘Your wish is my command, milord, K.’

Gus came down wearing a wool blazer over jeans and boots. You look great, Cat.

Happiness was a big brother. I hugged him.

Would you be upset if I took off after dinner? he asked.

You got a date with Anna?

She said she could meet me later, he said, running a hand through his hair. I probably won’t make it back tonight. I’ll make sure Hagen gets you back here. His guilty look was priceless.

I squeezed his arm. I wasn’t the least bit worried.

We drove into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency hotel in Köln-Deutz. As we entered the Glashaus restaurant, I looked around, but didn’t see Hagen. The décor was elegant in a contrived, global hotel chain sort of way. The waiter led us to a table in a corner of the restaurant with an ideal view and a smidgen of privacy. The Rhine promenade across the river was lit and so was the Dom. We were just a few feet away from where my swim downriver had started. The resulting shiver made me sit straighter. Gus nudged my fist with his.

Hagen’s arrival dispelled my unease. His flared, longer-than-hip-length black jacket and creamy white shirt complemented eyes that particular pure deep shade I called midnight ocean blue. The memory of our last rendezvous and the jazz in his smile as he looked me over brought a flush to my face. After giving me an affectionate kiss on both cheeks and a hearty handshake with Gus, he sat. A waiter materialized, and Hagen spoke to him before turning back to us.

Should we test your German? Hagen asked, daring me with a grin.

"Von mir aus," I said, with what I hoped was an enticing smile. I had just finished an intensive German course at the Goethe Institute in Bonn and had discovered an enthusiasm for the language.

He raised an evocative eyebrow. Gus looked at us in anticipation.

Okay, Hagen said. Caitie, you remember our meeting with Frau Tillmann?

How could I have forgotten it? Dr. Vogel had also been present at that meeting, and his expert manipulations had temporarily sunk my relationship with Hagen into liquefied sand. But the meeting had also been a turning point for getting Gus out of trouble.

"Ja, she said she would approve our project if the situation with Gus got cleared up."

Well, it did and she did, he said.

Really?

She sent me an official letter. We can proceed with the measurements anytime, Hagen said.

I have already contacted the firm with the surveying equipment, Gus said and pointed to me. That will be your job.

I sat back. Cool. The high-tech laserscanner had many possibilities beyond crime scene investigations, and I was just the right person to explore them.

The waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. It wasn’t Burg Lahn estate bubbly, but I wasn’t about to complain. We raised our glasses together. Here’s to a successful working relationship and at least one groundbreaking paper, Hagen said.

I’ll drink to that, Gus said.

I smiled at them, blinking my eyes. Being together with these two was breaking enough ground. We clinked our glasses.

I took the liberty of ordering, Hagen said casually.

Did you think the menu was too difficult for us? I asked.

He wrinkled his nose. No, I didn’t particularly care for anything on the menu.

I rolled my eyes. Gus shrugged. The first course, a Feldsalat with sliced duck breast and roasted pine nuts, arrived.

I forked a rosette of leaves. So, I began. When do we start?

Let’s meet Monday in my office, Gus said. I’ll work up a schedule.

Hagen nodded his approval.

We worked our way through dinner with rapid-fire conversation about German autobahns, giant armadillos, and Socrates. The topic of stiletto heels popped up during the fish course as a woman with Tower of Babel hair in a boa constrictor disguised as a dress teetered close to our table on some impressively high ones.

They sure make a girl’s ankles look good, I said.

Stupid, said Gus and Hagen, nearly in unison.

Huh. Every girl needs a pair.

Why don’t you own one then? Gus asked.

Hagen lifted an eyebrow, glancing at me. It’s the feet, not the shoes.

I turned up one corner of my mouth at him. Gus shot us guarded looks.

After we turned over yet another empty wine bottle, I voiced complaints about how badly Gus had been handled by the police. It’s not like they were really sorry or anything, either.

Subject closed, Cat, Gus said, his voice gruff.

Sorry, Gus. It’s still all too fresh.

He looked out the window.

Over coffee, conversation returned to the measurements Gus had planned in conjunction with the now-approved Praetorium project. Gus started ticking off ideas on his fingers.

Am I going to be paid for this? I asked as I sipped my second espresso.

Gus and Hagen exchanged a glance.

We thought the best thing for you would be to start your own consulting firm, Gus said.

You both thought that. A conspiracy, then. I rotated my cup energetically in its saucer.

Actually, I had more of a partnership in mind, Hagen said.

Oh, I said.

Gus consulted his watch and made polite noises.

Gus, it’s okay. Go on.

You sure? His eyes flicked to Hagen; his look said, what about you?

I squirmed and gave Gus a reassuring nod. He leaned over, kissed me affectionately, and ruffled my hair, reminding me how glad I was to have him back. I walked with him towards the front of the restaurant. Thinking about our recent troubles made me uneasy again. Evil blondes and brutal dark men still roamed Cologne, largely unhampered by any police intervention. I took his car keys away. Drunken driving not allowed. We’ve had enough police problems lately.

"It’s okay, C.K. The Straßenbahn is just across the street."

How far is it then?

Just a few stops, and I’m right at Anna’s door. You want me to call you a taxi?

I’m fine. Don’t worry.

He walked away from me, already talking into his phone. I went off in search of the restrooms to refresh myself and clear away any dark thoughts in anticipation of dessert—namely, just me and Hagen.

A small office in the Ursulakirche, Cologne

Kilhian opened the door and gestured for Dagmar Abel to precede him. The church was pleasantly empty this late in the evening. Since Leslie James’ arrest, he felt more confident meeting Dagmar here than in public. Kilhian had obtained the most expensive criminal lawyer with the lowest public profile he could find and made sure the knowledge that he was paying for Leslie’s defense would guarantee her discretion. Secrecy continued to be an essential part of Kilhian’s character. He feared exposure at all levels, and with good reason. He had much to hide.

What did you want to talk to me about? Kilhian pulled out a chair for her.

Dagmar had dressed conservatively—for her at least—in a navy silk sheath dress and matching short jacket. She wore black gloves and a wide-brimmed black hat that contrasted well with her blonde hair. She sat and removed her gloves as she waited for Kilhian to seat himself behind his desk. Her fingernails were painted a modest dark red, but she looked as shark sleek and dangerous as ever. He confounded her expectations by perching himself on the desk edge—close to Dagmar but not too close.

She tilted her head a fraction and smiled. Why do you think I want to talk about anything? Can’t I just be curious about how you are? I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks and was wondering what you’ve been up to.

Ah. I’ve been hatching plots. Diabolical, dark ones.

She tilted her head in the other direction. "It would not be a hindrance if you were diabolical."

He looked away. What leads you to believe I’m not?

"I’m still trying to figure out how Caitlin Schwarzbach escaped Niklas.

And you think I have the answer?

Do you? She splayed her hands over her crossed leg.

Dagmar, you know as much as I do. Niklas was not very forthcoming when I took him across.

Interesting that you threw your little historian as bait to the police.

Would you have preferred that I offered them you instead?

"Now that would have been diabolical."

"Natürlich. Leslie is terrified of Niklas. She won’t hiccup anything that could lead them to us."

Dagmar shifted in her chair, recrossing her slender legs Does your plan have anything to do with earthquakes?

Oh, yes. I intended to contact you—in your official capacity, of course—when I had worked out the details.

I must admit, I don’t understand your fascination with earthquakes. But I assume it has something to do with this artifact you seek, no?

Kilhian shrugged and smiled. Unfortunately, he needed Dagmar, now more than ever.

I’ll interpret that as a ‘yes’. I’ve a plan in mind as well. But I also need your help, she said.

Mutual benefit. This sounds promising. I’m fine, by the way, and glad you just stopped by to say ‘hello’.

You won’t have to do anything at all, at least not in the . . . how do you call it . . . the waking world. Her mouth curved up slowly. I need to go back to the Schattenreich again—to that place you created—to send a couple of messages to a friend of ours.

Whatever she had planned was likely to be unpleasant for members of the von der Lahn family—or for Caitlin Schwarzbach. How she fit into the family was a mystery Kilhian would very much like to solve. Messages?

Yes, you know, of the supernatural sort.

He considered for a moment. You mean sendings?

She nodded, a little too readily. Yes, those. Can you do them?

Of course. But you’ll have to trust me with your . . . inner landscape to enact them.

She waved a hand. We’re bound, aren’t we?

Kilhian had cause to regret his binding with Dagmar, especially of late. Her disturbing emotional terrain completely overshadowed the physical benefits he had derived early on in their relationship. He also now had to spend a considerable amount of energy keeping his own emotions in check when around her.

Are you planning anything dramatic?

Explosive is the right word. I have a long-term plan with a clear goal: eliminating Caitlin Schwarzbach.

Why her? I thought you were mainly interested in sinking your fangs into the von der Lahn males.

Getting rid of her will help with that—immensely. And I want to make sure she doesn’t acquire the benefit of binding with Hagen. It could complicate matters.

For who? I imagine Cathubodua might not find the idea at all bothersome. Whether the next set of von der Lahn children come from you or Caitlin can’t really be of importance to her.

Yes, that is the crux of the problem, as I see it.

Kilhian repressed his distress at Dagmar’s plan to cause Caitlin harm. He didn’t know what, if anything, he could do to hinder her. But ‘long-term’ suggested he might have a chance to warn Caitlin. He was aware his desire to protect Caitlin went deeper than just securing the inscription Hagen would likely soon find. The pull she exerted on Kilhian both bothered and intrigued him. They had walked the veil together all the way back to the late Iron Age—it had been involuntary on his part. He’d just been along for the ride. But had Caitlin initiated it? If not, then who? How was it even possible that Caitlin had pulled him with her? It had been exhilarating. Did she have that kind of power over Hagen? He wanted to learn the answer to those questions before anything of a fatal nature happened to her.

Chapter 4

While the waiter cleared our plates from the table, I felt the scrutiny of Hagen’s dark eyes and imagined for a moment they smoldered, metallic blue magma flowing just beneath the surface.

Want to go for a walk? Hagen asked me.

A walk? Did you know it’s November outside?

Fresh air will do us good.

Hagen steered us towards the Deutzer Brücke. The Karneval season had officially begun a few days before on the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day. Serious attempts at celebration reached us as off-key singing, and loud music threatened the night from a couple of the Kneipe on the other side of the river.

The chill air stimulated senses dulled by restaurant claustrophobia and too much wine. A lone barge chugged upriver, its progress not much faster than ours, challenging us to keep up. A very dedicated, late-night jogger passed us and the barge and an elderly man walking a tiny shivering dog. After we passed under the bridge, we stopped to admire a building on the Cologne side of the river, built out to the edge of a narrow cement jetty with an angled glass construction and a small restaurant near the top.

That’s the chocolate factory, isn’t it?

I haven’t been inside recently, he said. I went for a time after it first opened.

My father and Gus took me once years ago. They had to drag me away from a huge chocolate fountain. Gus was helpless with laughter. I smiled at the memory. You like chocolate, too?

Marginally. My father and mother used to rendezvous there many years ago, long before the museum was built.

Oh, did your mother tell you stories about that?

Any tidbit about Hagen’s family was welcome. So far I had met Sebastian, but I was unsure as to what his relationship to Hagen was. And the looking glass brother, Heinrich, who had seemed real but could also have been part of my overworked imagination.

I never knew my mother. He rubbed his brow.

Oh, what happened?

She died in childbirth, he said, his voice hesitant. My father died when I was two. I came here to be closer to both of them.

Oh, Hagen, I’m so sorry. I laid a hand on his arm and slapped myself mentally. Idiot.

Hagen turned to me, smiling sadly. We’re both orphans, aren’t we?

I looked up at him, stifling my own sadness. At least I had known my mother. His warm lips on mine ended the discussion and refreshed delicious memories of our last meeting. A ship’s horn sounded, and I leaned into him, putting my arms around his waist.

Kati?

Hmm.

I would very much like to be with you tonight. He stroked my hair, tucking a strand in behind my ear.

Me, too, I said.

We headed back, pausing at the foot of the steps leading down from the Hohenzollernbrücke. He put his arm around me as we faced the water.

I don’t like it here, Hagen. I leaned into him to soak up whatever warmth I could in the damp night air, trying to blot out surging memories