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“Please,” Will whispered in English.
The woman’s eyes widened, the whites of her sclera the only things visible in the darkness. She shook her head against my hand, then thrashed against both our weight. Her cries were cut off, but she groaned as loudly as she could, and the bed’s coils screeched with every turn and kick.
“Shhh.” I hissed, trying to soothe her. “Pozhaluysta, sokhranyayte tishinu. My zdes’, chtoby pomoch’.”
“Please, quiet. We are here to help,” I said in Russian, not trusting my limited Hungarian to the task.
The woman stilled at the sound of her nation’s occupier’s tongue.
Her eyes remained wide and filled with terror.
I whispered again, “Sovety sobirayutsya ubit’ devochku. My zdes’, chtoby spasti yeye. Vy mozhete libo molchat’, libo . . .”
“The Soviets are going to kill the girl. We are here to rescue her. You can either stay quiet or . . .”
She blinked a few times, then her eyes darted from me to Will and back. In an almost frantic gesture, she nodded.
“Cover her mouth,” I said to Will.
He didn’t hesitate, his hand replacing mine.
Our eyes had finally adjusted to what little light flowed through the doorway, so I held up the pen-turned-syringe so the woman could see it. “Ya by predpochel ne ispol’zovat’ eto, no ya sdelayu eto, yesli vy menya zastavite. Vy ponimayete?”
“I would rather not use this, but I will if you force me. Do you understand?”
Another near-panicked nod.
My eyes locked with Will’s. “Let her go.”
He cocked his head, not moving for the longest moment, then set the woman’s mouth free. She sucked in a breath but held her tongue.
“Yest’ li v dome yeshche okhranniki?” Are there any other guards in the house?
She shook her head.
“Gde devushka?” Where is the girl?
The woman’s eyes—and most of her head—pointed to the left, indicating the one bedroom we hadn’t checked.
“Mozhem li my byt’ uvereny, chto vy ne vyzovete okhranu?” Can we trust you not to call for the guards?
The woman nodded, but this time, her lips parted. “Ona milaya. Pozhaluysta, uberite yeye ot etikh monstrov.” She is a sweet thing. Please get her away from those monsters.
Something in me released a sigh, and a bit of tension fled my shoulders. We were far from free, but this was our first bit of good luck. We’d take all of it we could find.
“Nam nuzhno svyazat’ tebya i zakleit’ tebe rot, chtoby vse vyglyadelo tak, budto ty nam ne pomogayesh’.” We need to tie you up and tape your mouth, make it look like you weren’t helping us.
The woman nodded, her hands whipping out from beneath the covers and extending toward Will like some prisoner awaiting her shackles. I stood as Will motioned for the woman to get out of the bed. Once on her feet, he tore the cord from a lamp on the nightstand and bound her wrists behind her. Our second bit of luck came in the form of a scarf crumpled on the top of a dresser. Will used that to form a gag, apologizing in a language the woman couldn’t understand as he tied it tight about her head. She tried to speak through the cloth, but her words came out too garbled to translate into any dialect.
Housekeeper secured, I turned.
Then froze as my brain tried to process the figure standing in the doorway.
She was tiny—far smaller than I thought a girl of her age should be. The top of her head barely reached my chest. She was little more than a tangle of curly hair and wide eyes. It was impossible to tell their color in the darkness.
Eszter stared, shifting from me to Will to the woman, then back between us. There was no fear in her, no juvenile quivering of her lip or screams for help. The intruders cloaked in dark clothing and leather gloves didn’t scare her. The caretaker tied up on the bed inspired no fright.
“Eszter?” I asked, hoping my tone carried more warmth than I felt.