Waging War (38 page)

A young Frenchman slipped in through a side
door that a girl had unlocked. I was about to gesture that he
should leave – according to a young mother, all the men in the
village had been rounded up and taken to the town square, and he
could be shot for being here – but then he threw something. I
watched the bottle move as if in slow motion, saw the rag hanging
out, saw the fire spin with the bottle’s trajectory. And then it
exploded.

Gunshots from the soldiers’ rifles filled
the air. Children screamed and ran out of the nave to the north and
south transepts trying to escape the deadly gunfire. My eyes locked
with Saira’s as she screamed my name, and then I heard the shot
that hit my chest. I felt it bury itself with a burst of heat and
pain in my lungs. A rib broke and another bullet tore into my
heart. I fell backwards, into the fire that still burned on the
church floor.

“No!” I cried, even as I gasped at the
realization that I’d been asleep. I’d been dreaming.

I wasn’t shot. The hot fire of a bullet
hadn’t torn a hole in my heart.

My heart.

My
heart?

I looked over at Archer, so immobile in
sleep he looked dead, and leaned my head down to his chest to
listen to his heart pump blood through his body. It was still
beating.

That hadn’t been a dream. It was a vision
Archer had of his future. The perspective was his. He had seen me
with the children in the church, and when he passed the vision to
me through the touch of his body as we slept, I saw what he saw. I
felt the bullet bury itself in his chest. I felt the flames ignite
his robes as he fell into the fire.

If it were possible, my heart pounded even
harder than it had when I first woke. I sat up and looked around
the barn.

Ringo still slept in his bed near the wall,
his blanket tangled around him in a way that spoke of his own
nightmares. Where had Ringo been in that vision? Safe, I hoped, and
not with the men in the village square. Not for the first time I
wondered if knowing what would come would allow us to change
it.

The sun had barely risen above the midpoint
in the sky, and it was much too early for someone who kept Vampire
hours to be up. My heartbeat had returned to something less
frantic, and I lay down again, fitting my body against Archer’s. I
wondered if he would remember the vision tonight when he rose. If
he didn’t, I wondered if I’d tell him.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to make that
decision. For the first time in a long time, Ringo and I actually
slept as long as Archer did, and the minute he sat up, Archer told
me about the vision he’d had. He didn’t ask if I’d seen it, and I
didn’t need to mention it because his recall was exactly what I
remembered seeing.

“It was obviously at night, or neither Bas
nor I would have been awake, and I didn’t see Marianne or Marcel
among the women and children in the church, so perhaps it was only
people who lived in the village itself that had been rounded up.”
He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Can we warn them
somehow?” Archer asked me. “Does it ever work that way?”

“We’re going to change it,” I said with
conviction. “It’s against the rules for you to die because you go
on to live a long and happy life with me.”

Archer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t
look particularly swayed by my argument. His apparent acceptance of
the vision reminded me far too much of the way Elizabeth Tudor had
surrendered to the idea of her own death, and frankly, I wasn’t
having any of it.

We ate dinner with Marianne and Marcel in
their kitchen, but conversation was a fairly somber affair. Archer
warned her about spending time in the village after dark. The
German patrols were too close, he said, and Marianne accepted his
word without question. Marcel told him that an older brother of one
of his classmates had come by the school that day. The children had
all whispered that he was in the resistance, and Marcel had been
afraid of the young man, whose eyes had looked so angry. After we’d
helped Marianne clean up, we went back to the barn so Archer could
translate the conversations for us.

“I don’t like that the Maquis are openly
entering the village during the day. It’s going to draw German eyes
to this place and foster suspicion among neighbors,” he said.
“Reprisals are considered a legal form of warfare, and the French
resistance has certainly done enough to cause action against them
and anyone who harbors them.”

I shrugged. “Tell Nancy to put her Maquis on
a leash.”

He looked thoughtful for a long moment. “We
should warn her about what I saw.”

“Warn her? How? You can’t just walk up and
say, ‘Oh, by the way, I have visions of the future sometimes, and
this is what I saw…’ Best case, she doesn’t believe you. Worst
case, she thinks you’re a nutjob and turns on you. It’s bad enough
being English in an occupied country. If we lose our credibility
with the Maquis, we’ll be hunted by all sides.”

Ringo spoke nearly the first words he’d
spoken since we woke up. “She’s right. If Tom’s in Limoges, we need
the Frenchies to find ‘im for us. I say we warn Bas, ‘cause ‘e’ll
understand, then we go find out what Nancy knows about this
village. Maybe there’s somethin’ goin’ on ‘ere that we can
change.”

Archer nodded. “Fine, but let’s go to
Gaspard’s farmhouse first. Bas is giving his evening mass right now
and it’ll be an hour before he’s free to talk.”

We pedaled our bikes back to Gaspard’s and
tucked them behind the barn where we’d gotten them the night
before. Archer went to find Nancy, while Ringo and I waited
outside. I was already on edge, and the idea of close quarters with
any Mongers wasn’t a peaceful thought.

Archer’s vision had strung tension between
all three of us, and it was affecting everyone’s mood. After a
loaded silence, Ringo finally spoke in a whisper. “Meeting Bas was
good for ‘im.”

I wasn’t expecting a conversation opener
like that, and I waited for him to continue. His eyes were focused
on the door to the farmhouse as he spoke. “Whatever story ‘e ‘ad
about us—” he pointed between himself and me. “Whatever that was,
it’s gone now. ‘E trusts us, or maybe ‘e trusts ‘e’s enough for
ye.”

I appreciated Ringo’s insight. I’d been
feeling it too, but hadn’t put it into words. “How about you? Do
you trust him?”

Ringo knew what I was asking, and he took
his time to answer. “It’s different ‘ere. When I first met ‘im, ‘e
was gentry and I was from the street, so I was less than ‘im.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it
again because he wasn’t done.

“When ye came back for me, ‘e’d lived into a
future I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams, and ‘e’d
experienced it all. So again, I was less.” He finally dragged his
eyes away from the door and found my face. “In this time, ‘e’s
still older and wiser than me, but I know things ‘e doesn’t, and
I’ve seen things ‘e ‘asn’t. It makes us equal.”

He took a deep breath and returned his gaze
to the kitchen door that Archer had just emerged from. “I wasn’t so
comfortable with that at first, but now being equal feels right.
And I think maybe it was just me
making
myself less than ‘im
in those other times.”

I gripped Ringo’s hand tightly. “You’re more
than just about anyone I know.”

He gave me a quick smile and squeezed my
hand in return. Archer waved to us to follow him into the woods on
foot, and when I couldn’t feel any Monger-proximity anymore, I
finally stopped.

“Okay, what?” I whispered to Archer.

“The Maquis are planning a reprisal for the
snipers,” he said grimly.

I looked at him in surprise. “Because
blowing up the bridge wasn’t enough?”

“Apparently not.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Wait,” Ringo cut in, “did anyone find trace
of the Werwolves in Limoges?”

Archer answered Ringo’s question first.
“Yes, and no. They think they know where there’s an advance SS unit
of 2
^nd
Panzer Division hidden in Limoges, and they
assume the Werwolf unit is billeted with them. The unit works at
night, according to Nancy, which means they’ll be on the road
hunting Maquis tonight.”

“Awesome. Makes me feel so safe in the
woods.” I deadpanned.

“Their reprisal is a bigger problem for us
though. They’ve captured a German Sturmbahnführer – a man named
Kämpfe – and plan to send a ransom note for him, just so there’s no
confusion about who has him.”

Ringo scoffed. “This isn’t a battlefield.
These are villages full of farmers and their families. Ye don’t go
stingin’ soldiers like that. They’ll not just swat at ye, they’ll
burn yer ‘ive.”

Archer’s mouth was a grim line. “Considering
the vision I’ve had, I’d say that’s quite likely what will
happen.”

“Can ye get them to release ‘im?” Ringo’s
voice sounded a little desperate.

“I tried. I’m not sure he’s not already
dead.”

Ringo threw up his hands. “It’s goin’ to
‘appen then, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, and Archer didn’t
bother to answer.

Archer looked at me. “We need to warn
Bas.”

The village of Oradour-sur-Glane seemed
deserted as we slipped along its cobbled streets. Luckily, the
church was on a hill above the central square, so we didn’t have to
sneak past too many shops and homes to get there.

The sundown mass was long over, though
candles still flickered at the entrance to the church. It was a
formidable building, made of stone rising up from the top of its
hill. It almost seemed more like a castle, and could have been one
in another time.

I just barely held back the gasp that
threatened when we stepped inside, and Archer’s expression had
turned to stone. This was the church from his vision. This was
where it would happen.

The design was classic for a Catholic church
– a building in the shape of a cross. We had entered at the bottom,
and the long part of the cross was the nave, which held wooden
benches with seating for about a hundred people. The main altar
stood at the far end of the church just in front of a stone wall,
and was topped by a simple, but elegant window. The window was
about six feet off the ground inside the church, but might have
been ten or twelve feet from the ground outside given how the
building was perched on the hill.

There were two other altars in the wings on
each side of the nave. Archer had known the wings were called the
north and south transepts in his vision, just like he had known
that Bas’ safe place to sleep could be accessed behind the south
transept altar.

It was surreal to stand in this empty room
that I’d seen only a few hours ago full of women and children and
soldiers with guns.

Ringo was the only one of us who strolled
around with interest examining the icons on the walls. He had seen
us both stop and seemed to be giving us space to deal with the
aftershock of Archer’s vision. He disappeared into the south
transept, and then I heard Bas’ voice greet him warmly.

Archer turned me to face him and searched my
eyes. “You Saw it too, didn’t you? Just like in 1888, when I Saw
your mother, you Saw this.”

I nodded, and my voice came out in a
whisper. “It’s happened since then – about Ringo getting tortured.
It’s what sent us back to Tudor England.”

He pulled me to his chest and held me
tightly. “I didn’t want you to See it. I don’t want you to see me
die.”

I pulled back and glared at him. “You don’t
get it!” My whisper was fierce. I didn’t want to fight with him,
but I wasn’t giving in to this, because it could. Not. Happen.
“Whatever you Saw, whatever horrible things might happen, you are
NOT going to die! Get that through your head so we can figure out
how to keep it from happening at all. Because if you give in to it,
we’ll be powerless to change it.”

I was closer to tears than I wanted to be,
and I turned away from him to get my pounding heart under control.
Archer pulled me back against his chest and held me in his
arms.

“Marry me and I can let go of the fear.”

What?

I turned to search his face, and he saw the
confusion in my eyes. He repeated softly. “Marry me, and then
everything I have is yours.”

The choke hold on my voice let go as anger
took its place. “What does that have to do with anything? You want
me to marry you so I can … what, inherit after you die? Are you
insane?” Now I was yelling, and I didn’t care if Bas and Ringo
heard this fight. “That’s the last reason on the planet I would
ever marry you or anyone!”

I took a step backward, away from him, but
he wouldn’t let me go. His hands held my upper arms firmly, and he
made me look him in the eyes. “I told you I should have married you
when we first met, and you’ve told me that I want to in your time.
So, there’s intent that has nothing at all to do with assets.”

I almost huffed an eye-roll, I was that mad,
but he still continued. “This is about war, and chance, and
opportunity, and love. No—” He shook his head, which was
interesting enough that I let him continue. “Who am I kidding. It’s
all
about love. I love you so much that since I woke up
tonight, my soul has been screaming
Marry her!
Marry her so
no matter what else happens, no matter what horrors you’ll face,
you’ll have this moment of pure … light. Light and goodness and
rightness and truth. That’s why marrying you would erase my fear,
because nothing can take away the peace of knowing I belong to the
person who makes me feel whole, and she belongs to me.”

I stared at Archer, and his eyes searched
mine for some clue to what I was thinking.

Good luck with that, I thought. I had no
idea what I was thinking. I couldn’t actually think. My brain had
gone into deep freeze shock and looking out through my eyeballs
felt like seeing underwater.