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I tossed back the bottle, then let the water chase it down.
He leaned close. “We’ll be gone soon.”
“What are we going to do about the machine? I hate the idea of you going back into Budapest. The Soviets will be crawling all over the place. It’s a suicide mission.”
He thought a moment, his gaze drifting past me into the distant countryside.
“I don’t know,” was all he managed.
“Let’s get away from this group first. We can discuss next steps where no one can overhear us.” I glanced around. “Where are the others?”
Before he could answer, Sparrow and Egret appeared from the shadows. They moved like ghosts, all packed and wrapped in plain wool. Sparrow had cut her veil shorter, tucking it under a scarf. Egret had abandoned the friar’s robe in favor of a long civilian coat and cap.
They didn’t speak, just nodded.
Will stood, adjusting the strap on his pack, then reached down and pulled me to my feet. I bit back the grunt as my shoulder howled, then steadied myself against him. The warmth of the codeine spread like a candle flickering in the dark, but I felt it beginning its work.
Across the field, near the chapel, Father Molnár stepped forward and lifted his hands. A song began. It was low at first, a single verse hummed into the night. More voices joined.
Then more.
Until the entire clearing was filled with the harmonies of a better life, both now and hereafter.
It was an old hymn, in Latin, the kind sung by tired hearts and faithful lips, passed down through centuries of fire and grief. I doubted some among the number knew the meaning behind the ancient words; though, watching them, the melodies clearly inspired far beyond their minds.
Will turned to me. “That’s our cue.”
Around the back of the chapel, across the edge of the field, where the frost turned the grass silver and the stars blinked between the branches, we moved slowly, yet with purpose. We didn’t run, because running drew eyes. Besides, I could barely manage to stagger forward. So, we walked like pilgrims, with bowed heads, packs steady, and breaths tight.
Sparrow led. Farkas and Eszter followed with Egret behind them, one hand near his coat where he always kept a knife hidden. Will and I came last, his arm around my back, steadying, guiding. It was such a simple touch, but it was more than we’d allowed ourselves in many days. The feel of him close, the connection, was worth more than any bottle of medicine or painkiller could ever offer.
No one looked back.
No one called out.
The hymn rose and fell, then swelled, masking the sound of boots on gravel, the creak of bags, the whisper of breath. We passed between the last trees and into the darkness beyond the firelight.
We were gone.
No longer pilgrims. Shadows again.
An hour, maybe a little more, after we left the group, we stopped to rest under the cover of a forested grove. The full moon struggled to penetrate the leafy canopy, though the cold managed to seep into every part of my being.
Eszter had surrendered her strength and sagged against her father.
Sparrow and Egret dropped their packs and sat atop them. They leaned back against a pair of trees that allowed them to sit shoulder to shoulder. Before I’d had time to get somewhat comfortable, their fingers were entwined, and Sparrow’s head rested on Egret’s shoulder.
“Jesus,” I said around a tongue that felt thicker than molasses. “You two need a room. Do we have a room? Will . . . shit . . . I said your name.” I covered my mouth and began giggling.
Fuck me. I was giggling.
Sparrow grinned but didn’t lift her head. Egret glared.
Will coughed, wrapped his arm around me, and guided me to a nearby tree where we could mirror their tree-leaning posture.
“I think someone’s meds have kicked in,” he said to everyone else.
My giggles grew. “You said someone licked me. That’s crazy. I have all my clothes on. Where would they—”