Sable/Berlin Lebensborn Centre
Christmas Day, SY151
Given my upbringing and beliefs, the religion of my childhood was the logical one to adopt when I created Sable. After all, it was either that, or I formed one of my own, probably with myself as the deity, and even as a creator, it seemed wrong to me to do that. I may be a talented sorcerer and Pattern-worker, but in my mind - even if it isn't a view shared by my kin - that doesn't give me the right to set myself up against God.
Admittedly altering the historical and geographical elements of the Judeo-Christian faiths to fit the new world had been an interesting task, but nothing is impossible if you put your mind to it, and therefore I had built that into my system in the neatest manner I could. As a result, the very Anglican Church of Sable - and to an extent the more Catholic Church of Vicenza - bore a distinct resemblance to the Christian Churches of Terra Magica, complete with festivals and elements of canon (albeit more 1662 than modern). I had initially made a mistake with my choice of Patriarch for the Church of Sable - arrogantly thinking I could create a man of God, and then learning quickly that such grace could not be made on a whim. However, I had eventually found a solution in the recruitment of Dennis Dessain.
I had first met Dennis as a student at King's College, where he was a brilliant student, with great aptitude as a healer and natural magician - the former making him one of my occasional tutor group. He had graduated with a Doctorate, but then quickly found his vocation and had gone into the Church, although this didn't stop him also becoming a member of the Magical Oversight Council - the body on which both myself and Adam Sinclair also served. Dennis has been made Bishop on his forty-fifth birthday, and a couple of years later, when I was looking to mend my ecclesiastical mistake, he came to mind as a possible replacement. I had been pleased when he had accepted, and neither of us had ever had cause to regret my invitation to him to come to Sable, first as Bishop and then a few years later to take over as Patriarch .
The huge Gothic Cathedral of St Michael and All Angels in Sable City was already packed as our carriages drew up outside the gate for Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. The air was cool and crisp, and I noted that the clouds I had decided would be present were building up nicely.
A small crowd had braved the chill to cheer us as we arrived, and not for the first time since my recovery from Paolo's tender ministrations, a few months before, I felt glad to be alive. Well wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, and fortified by the mulled wine we had been enjoying in the palace before leaving for the cathedral, I climbed down from the carriage. As I turned to help Claire to do the same, I noticed that Anthony Coryn, Colonel of the Episcopal Guard, was waiting to escort us inside, and smiled at him, indicating that we'd be a few moments.
The goodwill from the crowd as they saw Claire and myself warmed me in a way the cloak did not, and we took the opportunity to personally wish many of them a Merry Christmas. Over the next few minutes, the other members of my family who had chosen to join us - including Andrew, who was recently recovered from a Reich assassination attempt when he was out in the field, his wife Niamh, and their now-teenage children, as well as many of my other grandchildren - also surrendered the comparative shelter of the carriages and greeted the onlookers, before we finally made our way inside at about quarter past eleven (the service actually starting at half past, despite the name!). To avoid too much pomp and ceremony, we walked down the South Aisle, like the rest of the cathedral lit only by candlelight for this most special of nights, and we were soon settled in our places waiting for the Archbishop, to begin the service.
The service lasted about an hour and a half, and while I had been to literally hundreds of Christmas services during my life, this time I was carried away the sheer joy of the occasion much more than normal. The singing of the congregation seemed to have extra celebration in it, and the mysteries of the service itself seemed more uplifting. Perhaps my brush with death had made me appreciate it all more.
As the strains of the final descant of Hark the Herald Angels (which Claire had joined in, with her clear soprano) died away in the acoustics of the cathedral, and the Archbishop pronounced the solemn blessing, I looked up at the window above the apse and saw the first flakes of snow outside. I smiled to myself...and felt Claire's hand as she took mine and squeezed it.
"Happy Christmas, Robert," she said, quietly.
"Happy Christmas, love," I answered, although I resisted the temptation to hug her there and then, as it wouldn't have been appropriate in that place at that time.
"I'm so glad you're alive to be here," she added. I could hear the emotion in her voice, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say.
We joined the Archbishop's procession as he retired up the centre aisle. He finally paused in the porch, where he could give his best wishes to the congregation as they left, and looking out of the door, I could see the snow beginning to lay in the street.
"You always did have a sense of the artistic, Robert," he said to me, his tone light and friendly as he offered me his hand. I took it and shook it warmly, and then he gave Claire a peck on the cheek.
"When I was a child, I used to leave Millbank parish church every Midnight Mass thinking that for it to be a perfect Christmas, the snow should be falling. It was very rare that it happened, and that made me sad."
"And so now that you can, you're making up for the years when it did not?" he asked, and I smiled.
"Pretty much, yes," I replied, "is there anything wrong with that?"
"Not at all," he answered, "I used to think much the same thing. Of course, you're now in a position to do something about it."
"So are you."
"Not in the same way," he replied, "even if I did practise still...which I have little enough time to do."
"You should make the time...don't let those skills go to waste," I answered, always surprised at how little he used magic nowadays. When we had discussed the subject in the past, he'd rationalised it as considering it inappropriate for the religious leader of both Talented and non-Talent to flaunt his Talent, thus setting himself apart from the majority of his flock, and I knew him well enough to know that his feelings wouldn't change.
"It's an old argument Robert, and here isn't the best place to get into it again," he answered, firmly.
"I know," I acknowledged, then gestured to the falling snow, "enjoy the sight, and have a good Christmas."
"And you," he replied, before turning to greet Andrew and Niamh.
Claire and I stepped out into the snow, my arm finally around her waist as we joined the crowd milling outside wishing each other a Merry Christmas. A couple of members of Auguste de Lyon's Palace Guard fell into step beside us as we made our way through the happy crowd to our carriage, which was waiting across the street. However, as I helped Claire climb aboard, I thought I noticed a figure off to one side, trying hard to stay out of the way of the revellers. I looked in that direction, and my eyes met Gray's. Spotting him outside the cathedral on Christmas Night was something of a non sequitur.
I tried to recall if I'd seen him at the service, but couldn't - hardly surprising in the subdued candlelight, although given our different traditions, I wouldn't have expected him to be there. I indicated for him to join us, and after a moment he climbed into the carriage from the doorway away from the cathedral. I turned and gave a last wave to the crowd, before getting aboard myself and indicating for the driver to move off.
"Merry Christmas, Claire...Robert," he said as he settled down opposite us.
"And greetings of the season to you, too, Gray," Claire answered, "I don't recall seeing you inside..."
"No...however, I needed to speak with your husband, and I didn't want to risk missing him once you got back to the palace," he answered.
"Sneaking around in the shadows, though..." I said, lightly, "it almost reminds me of the old days."
"So might what I have to say," he replied, but his tone was more serious than mine, "Claire, would you mind if I borrowed Robert for a little while?"
"Of course, Gray," she answered, "but you have to admit you're being very mysterious all of a sudden."
"I'll explain everything later," came his reply, with the tone of a promise, "Robert...would you take us both to the Maze."
"Sure," I said, although I was surprised. Generally, we both considered it wiser if I wasn't seen in Sable's security HQ, so Gray came to report to me in the palace.
I leaned over and rested my hand on his forearm, and brought to mind the central courtyard of the Maze - the only place in the building into which it was possible to teleport. We transferred, arriving standing, and then he quickly led me up to his corner office on the top floor of the three-storey building.
"Okay, I've been pretty patient up until now, Gray, given that it's Christmas Night," I said, once he shut the door, and I noted that my tone was harsher than I normally used with him, "goodwill to all men, and all, but now you're going to explain what's going on,".
"I have to send two agents into Berlin."
"Right now?"
"Right now."
"You don't normally need to ask permission, Gray. That's what I pay you to do."
"This is a little different," he replied, "I'm one of the agents."
"Out of the question," I answered, instantly. I knew he had done field work before, but it had been a long time ago: now he co-ordinated everything from the Maze, and I was not willing to risk losing him in a foolhardy foray into enemy territory, either as my friend or my spymaster.
"We have no choice," he answered.
"There's always a choice," I said, as I began pacing the room.
"Not in this case," came the reply, "I have a very highly placed source, who wants to help us secure something, but can't do it alone."
"But why do you have to do it personally?"
"Two reasons. One, I handle this agent myself...only one other person knows of their true loyalty. And two, the location of that which the agent wishes us to have."
"My answer's still no, Gray," I replied, "you're too valuable to risk."
"Believe me, if I say there's no choice, I really mean it," he answered, "especially given who I need to take with me."
"And who is that?"
"You."
I stopped dead and looked at him.
"Me?" I asked, incredulous, "setting aside the fact that back in the war you tore me off a strip for screwing up one of your covert operations, why ever the Hell do you think I would happily creep into Berlin through the back door?"
"You've been to visit both Wilhelm and Delatz often enough," he answered.
"Yes, and they've been here, but all of that's been overt, not covert. I can't see either of them particularly appreciating the King of Sable going into their home territory under the radar."
"I need to hit the Berlin Lebensborn Centre, Robert," he answered, "and the only person who has a chance of breaking its arcane defences, without waking the surrounding area, is you."
"Have you gone stark staring mad?" I asked, incredulous. The Lebensborn Centres were the nurseries and enclaves set up by the SS to bring up suitably Aryan children for the greater glory of the Reich. On an arcane level, if not on a military one, they were among the best defended facilities within the Fatherland, and the one in Berlin, being directly in Rupert's purview, was the best defended of them all.
"No, I bloody haven't," he answered, hotly, "Jesus, Robert, do you think I would be considering this if there were ANY other way? And especially tonight."
"Why does it have to be tonight?"
"Because we know where our target is tonight."
"Gray, what the Hell are you talking about?"
"My agent has given me to understand that a child in which Rupert Delatz is taking special interest is in the Berlin Centre. I am also given me to understand that said child will be moved tomorrow - even the Reich celebrates Christmas, after a fashion, which means it is the perfect day to do something which will not be noticed - to one of Rupert Delatz's private facilities, where we will lose track of him until he comes to bite us in the arse."
"Why do you think this child is a threat?"
"He is the son of Annifrid Ragnarsian, Rupert's favourite mistress, and he's about a year old. My agent believes he's Rupert Delatz's son, which is why the Reichsführer-SS is so interested in him."
"Which is, of course, impossible," I snorted, "Rupert is infertile. The child couldn't be his."
"No, he couldn't," Gray answered, and looked at me, his expression inscrutable, "but my agent doesn't know that. However, the said agent does know which child it is, and will take us to him. In addition, I have one or two ideas as to his parentage, which is another reason why I want you to come with me. You should be able to take one look at the boy and confirm - or otherwise - my suspicion."
"So to sum up your great Christmas Night entertainment, you want us to go to Berlin and kidnap Rupert Delatz's ward."
"Correct."
"A terror tactic, in fact, that if it were perpetrated against us, we would protest in the strongest terms...we do not war against children, Gray, and kidnapping is a very base action."
"However, there are unique circumstances in this case," he answered, but with no hint of regret or doubt in his stance and tone.
"And you would swear on your faith and tradition that you haven't gone insane to even propose this."
"I would."
I looked at him, taken aback by the purpose in his lithe form, and finally shrugged.
"I can see my chances of a quiet night have gone out of the window. If it weren't you asking, I would have walked out of here and had nothing to do with this."
"But you didn't," he answered.
"No, I didn't, although I expect I'll regret it later. Let me change, and I'll join you back here in ten minutes."
"When you do, I suggest you look to those somewhat distinctive features of yours, as well as your clothes," he answered, "it would be best if the King of Sable isn't recognised in enemy territory."
I acknowledged the point and then teleported myself down to the palace. In the library I could hear my family laughing and chattering over a final glass of mulled wine before turning in. For a moment I wished I could join them...Christmas Night was no time for deceit, blood and sudden death...but Gray's request had been sufficiently out of the blue, and his feelings so strangely urgent, that I knew I had to go with him, if nothing else, to stop him getting himself killed - vampire or no, the wrong injury would finish him.
I headed up to my rooms, pulled on a pair of black jeans I very rarely wore and a black sweater, and then set about changing my appearance in the mirror. Soon the man who looked back at me had mousy brown short hair, hazel eyes and more rounded features than my own. Pronouncing myself satisfied, I grabbed a heavy wool jacket, slipping a commando knife and revolver into the pockets, and returned to the Maze. Gray was waiting for me in the lobby, dressed similarly to myself, and having taken similar pains to disguise his appearance - sufficient that he had apparently shed years and looked like he belonged on an SS recruitment poster, something he had accused me of in the past.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No, but don't let that stop you."
He drew a Trump card out of his breast pocket - I noted Cerian's device on the back - and then concentrated. After a moment, it was obvious that he had made contact. He indicated for me to join him and then passed us both through. We arrived in a darkened street, snow heavy in the air and most of the sound deadened, as it often is with snow on the ground. In the distance I could hear a church bell tolling dully.
"Thank you for meeting with us," Gray said to his contact in flawless German. To my surprise, I realised that we had come through to a woman - one with short blonde hair who looked to be in her fifties, although most of her features were covered up by a heavy scarf. That didn't stop me feeling as if I should know who she was, and that puzzled me. "This is my associate, Francis, who has agreed to help us."
"If it has to be, sobeit," she answered, her voice gruff, "although you know I do not like it. My life would be forfeit if word of this meeting got out. Come."
She led us off down an alleyway. Wary and on edge, I kept scanning around for any potential pursuit, but as far as I could tell, the only ones braving the night were ourselves. It took about ten minutes to reach an area of parkland enclosed by heavy iron railings. Inside, I could see a number of buildings, built in a neo-Gothic style, rather than the authoritarian architecture which was more common for public buildings in Berlin.
"We must get inside the wards before we can approach the complex," she said, "I hope you're as good as Herr Gewalt says you are."
I nodded, and settled down to work, noting that Gray and the woman had taken position to watch my back. I brought the relevant spells up very cautiously, immediately feeling Rupert's signature in the wards I was addressing. The trick would be to weave an access into them without them informing him that something was amiss. The work was hard, and the night was cold, and once or twice I caught my breath as the numbing snow almost caused me to misstep. However, after probably half an hour, I was happy with my work: both the external wards and the alarms and booby traps on the railings had been neutralised.
"I'm done - once inside we will have about half an hour, before the breach begins to close up of its own accord. Will that be long enough?"
"It will have to be," she replied, and we made our way over the fence and into the complex.
We moved quickly, thanking the fact that the snow was falling so hard that our footsteps would be filled in in minutes rather than hours. She moved purposefully towards a building off to one side, which I saw had the snakes and dagger device of an infirmary on the metal plate beside the door.
"The child is sick?" Gray asked, concerned.
"No, the child is tainted," she replied, "they are working to cure that."
"Tainted?" I repeated, "you mean a shapeshifter?"
"Indeed," she answered, distaste obvious in her tone. Rupert had done well making those who could shift into pariahs within his land...treated as kindly as the Jews of Germany in the Second World War, "it is another reason why it would be best gone from here."
We paused by the door, and again I noticed wards which would sound an alarm if opened improperly. Through the glass I could see a guard station, manned by two men in SS uniform - a private and a sergeant. I glanced down the side of the building to see if there was another entrance, and saw a frosted glass window, the top-light of which was open just a crack.
I headed for that and scanned it - more wards, but at least these weren't Rupert's, and I quickly disabled them. That, of course, left the problem of how to get in quickly and quietly. It looked as if the larger, lower window would open from the inside, if one of us could reach it.
"I hope your dislike of the tainted won't stop you accepting the services of one in this instance," I said to her, and crossed to the window. Then I took my knife out of my pocket and sliced it across the palm of my hand. As it began to bleed, I shaped it into a small creature which could gain entrance through the window and set it to its task.
I heard the woman gasp, and when I looked at them, I saw surprise on Gray's face, just for a moment. It was an ability I used so rarely that I imagine he had forgotten that I could do it. I bound my hand in a handkerchief, and then, as I turned back, I heard a click from inside, and the window became loose in its frame. I pulled it open far enough to be able to get inside, pausing only to reabsorb the blood on the sill.
"Coming?" I asked, and they joined me, our ally's face showing all the signs of someone who was trying to avoid being affected by a bad smell. I climbed in, and then helped both Gray and the woman.
"Why is it always the bathroom," Gray said, as he looked around.
"It's certainly traditional," I answered, with a slight chuckle.
We closed the window and then headed over to the door, which I opened a crack. The corridor outside was dimly lit - the magical lights on emergency, given the hour of night.
"Our footsteps will be noticed," she said, as I began to step out, and she pointed at the water on the ground from the snow we had tracked in.
I nodded, and cast a small spell which would dry us off - I'd learned it after my various trips to Rebma, in the dim and distant past - and then pronounced myself satisfied.
There were a number of doors off the corridor into which we stepped, and very shortly she stopped beside one. I saw her play with the lock for a moment, and then she opened it. Inside was a storage closet, with a number of white doctor's coats hanging inside. We divested ourselves of our outer coats - hanging them to the back of the rack of whites - and shrugged on three of the more appropriate garments. I saw Gray transfer a revolver and a thin bladed dagger which he took pains to conceal the hilt of, to the pocket of his. Taking the cue, I transferred my own weapons. As far as I could tell, the woman was unarmed, although she did remove the scarf and as I looked at her I was left with the impression of a rudimentary disguise spell over her features. Once again I wondered who it was who Gray wished to protect so jealously.
"Second floor," she said as we closed the door behind him, and then she strolled off up the corridor as if she owned the place. The trouble was, I had a bad feeling that perhaps she did.
We ascended the stairwell, and came out on the second floor. Here the lighting was stronger, and I could hear voices over by the nurses' station. Looking in that direction, I could see two woman joking with a man in SS uniform with the rank insignia of a Hauptsturmführer. I looked at Gray and he nodded, then we gestured for the woman to stay where she was and moved forward confidently, as if we were supposed to be there.
It worked long enough to get us close to the desk, when the officer looked up at us.
"Ja? Was ist?"
Gray moved surprisingly quickly, and then the officer was slipping to the floor. The women began to react, but I got behind them and knocked them senseless with quick cuts to the backs of their necks.
"You remember something from Prague, then," Gray said, with a chuckle.
"More than I'd like to," I answered, "let's get them someplace where they won't be spotted."
We dragged the three unconscious bodies into the nurses' ready room, and then gestured for the agent to join us, giving her the comms crystal the officer had been wearing in his ear.
"Which room?"
"Second on the left," she replied, "be careful, though...his mother sometimes spends the nights with him."
"As long as his father doesn't, that shouldn't be a problem," Gray answered, "take the nurses' station, and warn us if anyone comes."
"Of course."
She settled herself down, and we moved in the direction she had indicated. We glanced into the room through the glass in the door, before we let ourselves in, and inside could see a small form on the bed, with a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair sitting beside him, looking like a Wagnerian Valkyrie.
"He has good taste in women," I commented, quietly.
"Would you expect otherwise?" Gray replied, his tone slightly disapproving, "your womanising past crossed to him in full measure."
"It was obviously bored of my resolute faithfulness to Claire," I retorted, pulling my revolver from my pocket, "let's do this."
We opened the door and went in, hoping it would take a moment or two for her to react, but she was on her feet instantly, a blade appearing in her hand.
"Who the Hell are you?"
"House call," I answered, training the weapon on her, and making sure that her focus was on me, rather than Gray. She took a step towards me, and then I saw a flash and Gray's knife was in her back. He caught her as she fell, and gently laid her on the floor, and as I watched I could see the blood spreading across her back. Then my eyes were drawn to the hilt of the weapon he had used to fell her: an SS honour dagger.
"Where...?"
"Later," he snapped, sharply, "suffice to say that it should add confusion to the proceedings."
"Oh yes."
Then I turned to the sleeping form in the bed. About a year seemed right as I looked at him: an almost angelic looking child, with blond curls and fine features. The tag on his wrist named him Alban Delatz.
"He looks a lot like his mother," I commented, "Hell is Rupert going to be pissed. This seems more and more like a bad idea, and I'd say it's guaranteed to send my counterpart ballistic. We don't normally hit each other's families directly."
"Andreas seems to have thrown that one by the board, by going after Cerian," he answered, then adding, in an echo of his comments earlier, "Believe me when I say I'm not doing this lightly. In fact, I'm willing to leave him if you don't get the result I'm expecting when you check his parentage."
"Now you bloody tell me," I said, amazed at the about face, "all this may have been a complete waste of time."
"Only if I'm wrong," he answered, "if I'm not, you'll understand. Please...before we run out of time."
I shrugged and began to concentrate on the relevant spells I use to check parentage. And then I froze and I felt the colour drain from my face.
"That isn't possible," I said, hardly believing the readings, "I've never been unfaithful to Claire."
"I know," he answered.
"Then how?"
"About six months ago, for a few hours, your genetic material suddenly became very easy to come by," he answered, "given your skills and abilities, could you create a child from the information available in blood, organs and brain?"
"If there was a suitable donor to provide an egg to fertilise. It would be completely unethical, of course... against everything I stand for as a doctor."
"Robert, Rupert was in the courtroom...and my best guess is that Troilus wasn't all he took."
"But it was only six months ago."
"In our time...but your counterpart is just as capable of messing with time as you are. Now do you see?"
"Yes...now let's get him and us the bloody Hell out of here, before somebody finds us."
The urgency I suddenly felt was multiplied as I heard a moan from the direction of the chair.
"Damn," Gray cursed. I pocketed the revolver, then picked up the child, bundling him in blankets against the cold to come and casting a simple sleep spell on him to keep him quiet. Then we headed out into the hall, where I saw our contact walking towards us, looking frightened for the first time.
"He's on his way up..."
"Who?
"The Reichsführer-SS - he arrived about five minutes ago with his escort."
"Did you trigger anything?" Gray asked, looking at me.
"I'd lay odds that I didn't," I answered, "this could plain and simple be bad luck. Either that, or he's taking your advice and moving the child when no-one would notice. Besides children waiting for Santa Claus, who the heck is out and about at four AM on Christmas morning?"
"He will kill us," the woman said, with a flatness to her tone that made it sound like a foregone conclusion, "he is the best mage in the Reich...no-one can stand against him."
"Not necessarily true," I answered, "but I'd rather not find out. Roof?"
"The stairwell we came up continued upwards," Gray said, and we moved quickly in that direction. However, as we opened the doorway I could hear voices, and recognised one of them as my counterpart. The only positive thing about it was that he seemed to be chatting amiably with his companions, rather than angrily as if he had realised something was wrong.
"Shit," I swore, and backed outwards, cursing again as the door banged behind me.
"Only one way out," Gray said, gesturing towards the large window at the end of the corridor. From that distance it didn't look barred.
"Let's hope it isn't toughened glass," I answered, and we started moving rapidly towards it. I heard the stairwell door open behind me, and the first shouts of alarm. Not stopping to look, and drew my hand back. I threw it forward towards the window, and a bolt of lightning sped from my fingertips. I was rewarded by the sound of the glass smashing.
"You're insane!" our contact stammered, as she realised what we were planning to do.
"Better that than staying here to face Rupert's wrath," I answered. As if to underline the point, there was a stunning crack in the air above us. I kept my feet, just, and noticed that my friend was also still standing.
"Stay exactly where you are," came my counterpart's commanding voice. I looked at Gray and passed the child to him.
"Get the Hell out of here...I'll cover for you," I ordered, and then turned to face Rupert, weaving a shield around me, still attempting to do it using the magical signature on record as belonging to my nom de guerre, Francis Conrad. I heard a gasp behind me, and then the sound of feet crunching through broken glass, and then nothing. Given his enhanced physiology, I was confident that Gray would be able to make the jump. As for the woman, I hoped she would survive.
The look of sheer, unadulterated anger on Rupert's face as I met his gaze surprised me. He was staring at me, flanked by two guards with machine guns, and I knew that he only had to say the word and I would be reliving an experience that was just too recent. I hoped to Hell that he hadn't put anything exotic in the bullets as well, or that if he had, the shield Kita had given me from the Council of Nine would work.
I half expected him to say something, but instead he gestured and a bolt of energy was launched towards me. I deflected it with my shield, feeling the heat as it connected, and stepped back to absorb the momentum. A detached part of me was amused at the brief look of surprise which crossed his face, and when he finally spoke his tone was cold, and laced with menace.
"Your companions cannot get away," he said, "they will be killed and my son will be returned to me. And you, mage, will have wasted your life trying to protect them."
"Don't be so certain, Herr Reichsführer," I answered standing my ground, and waiting for his next attack, "they are resourceful."
"Resourceful, perhaps, but also foolish," he countered, "as are you."
Once again his hand flexed, and this time the attack was a burst of light so bright that I was momentarily dazzled, and before my shifting had compensated, I could feel the muzzle of a gun touching the back of my neck.
"Good bye, mage," he said, and I could hear one of his men pulling back on the trigger. In response I made sure I wasn't there when it went off. Instead, I visualised the space just behind my counterpart, and moved as the SS officer let loose a burst of fire. The next my counterpart knew, my blade was at his neck.
"Call off the dogs, Rupert," I said, quietly in English.
"You..."
"Yes, me," I answered, "I'm sure you have as much desire as I do to spend a year regenerating. Call off the dogs."
Convinced by my argument, he first ordered the men with him to lay down his weapons and then barked some orders into his comms crystal which translated as instructions for none of the guards downstairs to move on the intruders in the grounds. Then he looked at me, fire in his eyes.
"I've let you had too much of a free rein lately, brother," I said, meeting his gaze with a cold anger of my own, "so it's time that changed. I'm sure you appreciate that all I'm doing here is recovering that which belongs to me. What I suggest you do, is look to your lover, before she bleeds to death."
"What have you done to her?" he asked, and to my slight surprised, I heard genuine concern in his tone.
"Go and look," I answered.
"If she's dead, you will pay for it."
"She was alive when we left the room," came my reply, stating the honest truth as it had been at the time.
For a moment longer, we locked eyes, and then he broke the contact and stalked up the corridor, leaving me in the company of his two goons, who were staring as if unsure what had just happened. I didn't hold out much hope for their life expectancy as witnesses to Rupert Delatz's discomfort. Keeping them in sight, I judged the distance from my present position to the window, and teleported. I landed on the ruined sill, and then jumped towards the ground, making sure that I would be able to absorb the blow as I landed.
And then I was sprinting towards the fence, dodging bullets as Rupert's goons reclaimed their weapons and opened fire. I felt a couple of shots crease my shield and penetrate, but the blows were glancing ones, rather than full force, the aim badly affected by the snow still swirling in the air. Thinking to Hell with any remaining warding, I sprinted for the perimeter, leapt for the fence and vaulted clean over it. I thought I could hear the sound of pursuit, but decided not to stick around to find out how many people had decided to break their master's orders.
I ran through snow covered streets, chilled to the bone without my outdoor coat, and eventually gained the shelter of an alley. Then I brought Gray's image to mind, doing my best to protect the security of the contact.
"Where are you?" he asked as he accepted the Trump call.
"Out of the complex. You?"
"Still inside," he answered, "bring us through."
First he passed the woman to me, and as she stepped through the link I realised she was limping badly. Then he came through himself, still holding the child, who was beginning to stir.
"Are you alright?" I asked her.
"She landed badly," Gray answered, "I thought we were dead. What happened?"
"I'm afraid I had to blow my cover again," I answered, "but I got Rupert's attention long enough for him to stop them hunting you down. If his lover is dead when he finds her, though, all bets will be off."
"She should have died on my first stroke...but she obviously did not," he answered, "I suspect that not only this boy's father is a shapeshifter."
I chuckled.
"So the Reichsführer's woman is tainted, eh? How ironic."
"What happens now?" the woman demanded, "what happens with me?"
"If we can fix your injuries, so they aren't obvious, then I would say your cover is still intact," Gray answered, "you don't look like yourself, and I don't think Delatz got a good look at you, as Francis here was keeping him busy. If you wish to leave with us now, then I would understand. Otherwise, I think it would be worth maintaining this deception for a little longer."
She thought for a moment then nodded in agreement.
I helped her to a fire escape which opened into the alley, and sat her down, before squatting down to take a look at the injury. It wasn't broken, but it was a bad sprain. However, at least it was easy to fix. I moved myself into a semi-trance state, and then concentrated on repairing the damage. It took a few minutes, but soon it was gone, as if nothing had ever been wrong.
"Try and put your weight on it," I said, helping her to her feet. She stood very gingerly at first, but quickly I could feel her confidence returning. Out on the street, I could hear activity - shouting as the search parties moved out from the Lebensborn Centre.
"We have to leave," Gray said, "can you get home from here?"
"You have taught me sufficient escape and evasion techniques that I believe I will be alright," she answered, "it would be easier if I were not starting from here, though."
I nodded, and began thinking of the places I knew in Berlin. In the end I settled for the park beside the Basilica of the Cathedral of St Rafael - the Berlin equivalent of Sable City's St Michael's Cathedral - and teleported the four of us through to that location.
"Will this be sufficient?"
"It will," she answered. Then she turned to Gray. "I trust you will not be surprised if I do not contact you for some time, Herr Gewalt."
"I would advise that very course of action," he answered. She nodded, and then turned and headed off into the swirling snow, leaving the pair of us literally holding the baby.
"Home," he said, his expression tired. I nodded, and then brought to mind an image of the central mountains. A couple of further teleports later - just to cover our tracks, in case Rupert was following, not that he couldn't probably guess our likely destination - we were standing beside the Maze.
"Not how I expected to spend my Christmas Night," I commented to him.
"However, appropriate in a way," he answered. I looked at him, puzzled, and then he chuckled, "the arrival of a weak, vulnerable child on a night of greatest celebration at the dark of the year."
There was nothing blasphemous in his tone, but the comment surprised me.
"Guard that child, Robert. He's your son, and Rupert isn't going to be even remotely happy that we've taken him."
"For a moment, to Hell with Rupert," I answered, I'm more worried about what Claire is going to say?"
"I'm sure you'll find the right explanation for her," he answered, "let's be honest, the truth will do as well as any...she is a good woman, and she will understand."
I shrugged, then looked at him.
"You owe me the answer to one question."
"What?"
"Who is your contact?"
"You did not recognise her?"
"You both took great pains to make sure I did not."
He smiled slightly, and then looked back at me. "Her name is Adalheid Ansgar."
"The Kaiser's Chief of Staff?" I asked, incredulous.
"The same," he answered, "with the help of another agent, now no longer in the Reich, we turned her about fifteen years ago. And with that, I should bid you adieu. You need to get some sleep, even if I don't, and Claire will be worried."
"Claire will be furious," I answered.
"But I'm sure she'll forgive you with suitable action on your part," he replied, with a smile, "For what it's worth, my friend, Merry Christmas."
"And to you, Gray."
Then, with a slight nod to me, he headed across the snowy courtyard into the Maze.
After he had gone, I teleported directly into the Palace nursery, the child still in my arms. At least the presence of Nimue's children quite recently meant that it was relatively well equipped for a new arrival, although who I was going to contact to help me at five o'clock on Christmas morning was anyone's guess.
My first priority, though, was to get the child warm and comfortable, and to make sure he had taken no harm from being out in the freezing night. I was a little concerned at how quiet he had been: our adventures getting him out of the Lebensborn Centre and carrying him through the streets of Berlin in the snow would have awoken a normal child, however good the sleep spell placed on him. But he had barely stirred, and that didn't seem right. With that in mind, I laid him down on one of the nursery beds, pulled up a chair, put on my physician's hat, and began using my magical and mundane skills to make sure he was alright.
The answer was both yes and no. Physically, he didn't appear to have taken significant harm from the cold, possibly flying in the face of logic given his age and vulnerability. However, it seemed that he had been programmed to be excessively vulnerable to spells cast on him, as if he had been subjected to a lot of them in his short time and someone had made sure that the minimum effort was required to make them work. It would certainly explain why a paediatric sleep spell had had such a strong effect. It also quickly became apparent that his genetics had been subtly and expertly manipulated - Rupert's hand, unless I missed my guess - both to ensure viability, by virtue of his father's contribution to his genome being far from standard in its method of collection, and therefore needing a lot of work to 'take'; and related to his ability to shapeshift, no doubt the attempt to clean him of the 'taint' which Gray's agent had referred to.
It would take some studying to work out what they had done, and whether it could be fixed. Primarily, though, it was most important to secure the nursery so that my counterpart couldn't come straight back and take him away once more.
I was pondering the latter when Claire came in, and did a double-take as she noted my appearance: while I was wearing my own face again by then, albeit unshaven, my clothing was still as it had been when I had met Gray in the Maze, and was still damp from our flight through the snow without the coats we had had to leave in the Lebensborn Centre. If I hadn't been a shapeshifter, I would have been in danger of catching my death of cold.
"When Gray said he wanted to borrow you for a little while, I didn't realise he meant all night," she said, her tone far from amused, "What on earth have the pair of you been doing? You look like you've been on a commando raid."
"Not a million miles from the truth," I answered, looking at her, pretty sure she hadn't yet noticed the child, on the bed off to one side.
"Care to explain?"
"I'd probably better show you," I replied, and led her over to where Alban was sleeping. She looked down at him in disbelief, reaching to touch his cheek, almost as if she was trying to decide if she was imagining things. Then she turned her dark blue eyes to meet my gaze, her expression part curious, part furious.
"Care to explain?" she repeated, her tone unusually cold, "because the first two thoughts that come to mind cannot possibly be right, can they? An unknown child, and my husband dressed as if he's been sneaking around in the darkness, suggests either an affair he can't cover up any more, or a kidnapping."
"Because of the mental link between us, you would know if I had ever had an affair, Claire," I answered.
"And I know you haven't," she concurred, her tone still cool, "which leaves Option Two, which you haven't denied. What possessed you and Gray - I assume he's involved, although Heaven knows why, as he normally reins you and Andrew in if you're thinking of doing something too outrageous - to kidnap a child? One of the lowest, most dishonourable actions in which a supposedly civilised man can engage. Pique? Ransom? Some game of intelligence one-upmanship I don't understand? Or just plain insanity?"
"It was Gray's idea. He asked for my help," I said, "and believe me I thought he'd gone crazy when he proposed it. But he said I was the only person who could help him with this one, and as it turns out, he was right. If I hadn't been there, there's a good chance he would have either been captured or killed."
She turned her back on me as I spoke, listening, but also returning her attention to Alban. And then she noticed the hospital tag around his wrist. Very gently she lifted his hand, and read what was there.
"Oh you bloody fools," she said, her face going white as she read the name, "what on earth have you done?"
"He's my son, Claire," I answered, and I saw her eyes narrow in annoyance as she turned once more to face me, "courtesy of Rupert, but mine nonetheless. And when I realised that, I couldn't leave him."
"Leave him where?"
"The Berlin Lebensborn Centre. We had get him tonight as there was a risk he was about to be moved."
"Who's his mother, Robert?"
"Rupert's mistress," I answered, "a woman, I hasten to add, I have never met in the flesh. This is all my brother's genetic jiggery pokery, thanks to Paolo's actions in the summer."
"Does the Reichsführer-SS know what you've done? Know that it was you?"
I paused for a moment, seeing my counterpart's fury in my mind, and feeling the cold steel of the muzzle on my neck, then nodded. "Oh yes."
"You bloody, bloody fool," she repeated, still shaking her head and now trying to fight back tears of anger and worry, "start from the beginning, de Lacy, and make it good."
So I did. I told her my theories on how the child had come into being, and everything that had happened, save Gray's use of the SS dagger - which I wanted to discuss with him myself, first - and the identity of his agent, and was relieved as her expression softened somewhat, although it didn't become any less worried..
"He's going to retaliate," she said, as I finished, "you know he is. You've injured, possibly killed his lover, and you've taken her child. He's going to want blood, probably yours."
"Or something else, yes," I answered, "on the other hand, would it have been better to leave my child in his hands?"
"For better or worse, my love, however much I disagree with what you've done, I know you well enough to know that you couldn't have done it once you knew...and he's a beautiful child. But I can't see how he can be anything but a world of trouble."
She turned back to the bed and lifted him from it, holding him to her, so his head was resting on her shoulder. As she did, his eyes opened and met mine. Clear, bright blue. Annifrid's, I presumed.
"Papa?" he asked, reaching a hand towards me, and yet it tore my heart that it was almost certainly Rupert he was seeing in me as he said it, rather than myself.