Page 42 of A Resistance of Witches

She had chosen her seat at this café for its view of the clock tower in the town square, which now indicated that it was ten past two. She should have left five minutes ago. It was one of her rules not to hang around if a contact was late, one of the many ways she’d stayed alive as long as she had. But André was notorious for never being where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there—and he was carrying an envelope full of intelligence for the SOE, which Rebecca was meant to hand off to David Harlowe at their next rendezvous.

Five more minutes, she told herself.

She sipped her wine. At another table, two men were discussing the excitement from the night before in hushed tones.

“Did you see the smoke?”

“Couldn’t miss it. My nephew walked by there this morning on his way to work. Said there was a train on the tracks, got blown straight to hell. Looted, too, from the looks of it.”

“What was it carrying?”

“Guns.”

The other man whistled low. Rebecca raised her book to cover her smile.

The waitress approached Rebecca’s table. She was a sweet-faced girl, strawberry blond and covered in freckles.

“Can I get you anything else, mademoiselle?”

Rebecca set down her book. “Another glass of the cabernet for me, and one for my tardy friend as well.”

The waitress cleared her throat, then held Rebecca’s gaze. “I’m afraid we are all out of the cabernet.” Her eyes flicked toward the door. “Will there be anything else?” The girl’s irises seemed to pulse.

Rebecca felt a stab of dread. She smiled. “Non. Merci beaucoup.” She pulled a ration ticket from her purse to pay for her wine, then quietly removed an envelope full of banknotes and placed it on her seat for the waitress.

Waiters see everything, her friend Colette once told her.Barmen too. Keep a few in your pocket, and you can learn all sorts of interesting things.

She surveyed the room. Two men were seated by the window, clearly locals. One elderly woman, drunk and alone. Two young women with babes in arms. And the man at the table by the door, reading the newspaper without moving his eyes.

She placed her book inside her bag and walked calmly toward the door. She did not look back when she reached the street, but knew he was behind her just the same. She reached inside her bag and wrapped her hand around her pistol.

She didn’t notice the young woman with the chestnut curls, walking toward her as if she were on her way into the café. They were just about to pass each other when the woman changed course, stepping swiftly into Rebecca’s path and taking her by the lapel.

“Behave.”Her voice seemed to slip inside Rebecca’s skull like a snake.It wrapped itself around her mind, until Rebecca found she could not speak a word or take another step unless the woman told her to.

“Ether won’t be necessary,” the woman said. Rebecca turned to see the man from the café, with a rag in his hand. He looked disappointed. “You’re going tocome with us, aren’t you?” The words seemed to penetrate deep into her brain, sharp and violating.

To her horror, Rebecca found herself walking placidly alongside the woman, as if they were old friends. Inside she screamed and fought, yet somehow, she could not bring her feet to disobey.

They came to a black car.“Get in.”

Rebecca did as she was told, climbing into the back seat even as panic swelled up inside her. She willed herself to run, but it was no use. She was no longer in control of her own body.

“We’re just going to leave her sitting in the back seat like that?” said the man.

“Why not? She’s not going anywhere.”

“It’s creepy,” he grumbled.

“Well, if it makes you more comfortable…” The woman leaned down and placed her face close to Rebecca’s.“Sleep.”

Rebecca felt a terror like electricity flow through her. She fought to stay awake, trying to focus her attention on anything she could—green flecks in the irises of the chestnut-haired woman, cracks in the stones outside the café, ivy creeping up the base of the clock tower, and—just before she closed her eyes—a bone-handled dagger, sheathed on the woman’s hip, with a rune carved into the hilt.

•••

She woke in a cold,gray room, wrists bound to her chair, with a blinding light in her face.

“Your friend betrayed you.”

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