Page 83 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
When finally they reached their destination, a small cabin tucked away deep in the German wilderness somewhere between New Frankfurt and Nuremberg, she was exhausted, too, as much from the wild careenings of her mind as from the journey.
Their hosts, a gray-haired couple in their late sixties who spoke only hushed, hesitant German, were as different from Nola and James as day from night. Words were few and supper was served without ceremony. Lu realized, watching them skitter about the small cabin like creatures of prey in a nighttime woods, that they were terrified. Of what they were risking, harboring her and Magnus. Of what might happen to them if they were caught.
If courage could be defined as the ability to do the thing that scares you most, these people were giants of bravery.
“Wir in ihrer schuld sind,” Lu said quietly to the woman after the supper dishes were cleared and she’d shown Lu to
the cramped bedroom she and Magnus would be sharing. Another twin bed stared back mockingly at her from the middle of it.
The woman shook her head, then looked her in the eye. “No,” she answered in German. “The debt is ours. Had mankind been wise enough to stand up for what was right all those years ago, we wouldn’t be in the position we’re in now. The minute we turned our backs on you, we turned our backs on ourselves. That’s why we joined the Dissenters.” Her eyes were overbright. Her mouth was pinched. She looked as if she hadn’t truly slept in years. “There is only one way out of the fire, child, and that is to walk through it. But the Lord promises that if we have faith, we shall not be burned. And my faith could move mountains.”
Lu’s throat tightened. This woman reminded her so much of her father and Liesel it was like a spear through her heart. “Danke,” she whispered. On impulse, she threw her arms around the woman, and squeezed her into a hug.
She froze, but quickly recovered, even chuckling after a moment and patting Lu on the back. When she pulled away, some of the fear had left her face. She gave Lu a gentle, tentative smile, pinching her cheek like a grandmother. “I’ll give you pastries to take with you in the morning; you need some meat on these skinny bones. In the meantime, sleep. And sweet dreams, child. You deserve them.”
“You, too,” Lu murmured. The woman left on silent, slippered feet, and she and Magnus were alone.
“You like her,” he said, staring out the lone window in the room where he’d stationed himself since they’d been shown in. Like all the windows, it sported blackout shades, but he’d pushed them aside to peer into the night.
“I like anyone who offers me pastries.” She tossed her small pack on the bed, sat on the edge of the mattress, and pulled off her boots, throwing them into a corner. “Or who’s willing to stick out her neck for what she believes in.”
Magnus turned from the window, letting the shade snap back in place. She felt his gaze like two hot hands on her back, but refused to turn and meet it. Though everything was left to be said, also nothing was, and she didn’t have the energy for either. Avoidance seemed the best course of action. “You had the floor last night, so you should take the bed—”
“Shut up,” he said mildly. Startled, Lu turned and looked at him. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and she realized he’d said it on purpose to make her look at him. She raised her brows and gave him a look, which he waved off with an imperious flick of his wrist.
“You’re still the girl, and I’m still the guy. I’ll take the floor.”
“Excuse me, mister sexist, but I’m a woman, not a girl. Additionally, my gender has absolutely no bearing on our sleeping arrangements—”
“Shut up,” he said again, this time with a quirk to his lips that looked suspiciously close to a smile. “Woman.”
Lu studied him a moment. “Just out of curiosity, are you bipolar?”
“I’ve definitely been called worse.” He sat on a chair opposite the bed and pulled off his own boots, tossing them aside in the exact offhand manner she’d done only moments before. Lu couldn’t decide which was more disturbing: the sight of his bare feet, strong and oddly sexy against the wood floor, or this new lightheartedness that had come over him without any seeming cause. She wanted to ask him about it, but was afraid the question might chase away his good mood, so she made a noncommittal noise and went to use the bathroom.
When she emerged, Magnus was on his back on the floor with his hands beneath his head. His eyes were closed.
“At least take the pillow,” Lu protested, stepping around him to the bed. She pulled the pillow from it, dropped it onto his face, then jumped under the covers just in time to hear his growl.
The pillow came flying over the bed, this time landing on her own face.
“Stubborn much?” she muttered, wrestling it aside. She stuffed it under her head and stared up at the ceiling, realizing she was still fully clothed. That wouldn’t make for a comfortable night’s sleep. As surreptitiously as possible, she unzipped her jacket, slid the trousers down her legs, and kicked both out from under the covers so they slithered to the floor on the opposite side from where Magnus lay.
After a quiet moment, he said, “Was that your attempt at being stealthy?”
Lu’s cheeks burned. Even in darkness, she felt exposed. “Some people can’t sleep dressed, Magnus.”
“I took my boots off,” he said, perfectly reasonable, and Lu smiled in the dark.
“The things that make you smile,” he said to himself, a hint of laughter warming his voice.
“How did you know I was smiling?”
Another quiet moment. Then, all laughter gone, he whispered, “The air feels lighter. And . . . so does my heart.”
It sat there between them. Such a small thing, but it felt immense and dangerous, as if he’d admitted to murder, or plotting a government coup. It also felt fragile as a soap bubble floating on a breeze. She wanted to capture that bubble in her hand and stare at it awhile, before it burst.
Lu whispered, “Magnus?”
