Page 1

Chapter One

May 1st, 1941

London

“Close its mouth.”

A shaking hand pushed the clay jaw shut. Round eyes glowed as the scroll inside the creature's maw was absorbed. The green glare of otherworldly power connected with each of the men in the basement underneath the Great Synagogue.

“Do you hear?”

A nod.

“Do you obey without question?” A man with a long white beard and small spectacles stepped forward. He was not long for this world and had long ago given up on fear.

The creature nodded again.

“You will take the form of a man, the name of a man, a proper Englishman.” The elderly scholar slapped a sheaf of forged papers into the golem’s hand.

The doughy gray texture changed and shifted, narrowing and refining. Blobs became fingers. Round holes became lively and bright, green irises showing gray pupils alive with intelligence.

“You will speak like a man, a well-bred Englishman, a great teacher whom no one would dare to question. You will take the children whose names you hold aboard a vessel and protect them until they reach New York. Once they have been given into the care of Shuyla Rosen, you will return on the next ship. You are to carry out the task of protecting innocents who espouseour cause until you are unmade. Above all, you are to protect the children of our people.”

The golem nodded again. It wouldn’t question the six men in the shadows. It was told not to.

Besides, it liked this job. “Protect?”

“Any in our cause, yes. Any innocents who would preserve life and end destruction.”

Another nod.

“He’ll never pass. He’s too broad for an ordinary man. He’s gray, as well.”

“He will leave when it is dark and foggy. He will remain with the children below. He will learn. He is not mindless clay, this one.”

Another man stepped forward, this one young and dark-haired, thin-faced with a pointed chin and wide, admiring eyes. “He was made with more knowledge and skill than any golem ought to have, Rabbi.”

“That is what this hour calls for.”

Voices whispered, “If he should turn against us—”

“I will not. I will take the children. I will care for them all.” The golem moved unsteadily, proud of the way something was surging through his heavy flesh that made him more alert, more alive. He was not simply animated—he was living. But even as that awareness hit him, something was missing. Some spark. Some deep, quiet part of him that he was smart enough to know he did not possess. Even as he had thoughts, he knew they were not entirely free.

“Good. You are good.” The bright-eyed man, little more than a boy, pressed another paper carefully into his thick fingers.

“Do I have a name?” His deep croak of a voice scared the men farther back. They jumped.

The young one dared to pat his elbow. “A good English name. Let’s call him Reginald.”

“Reginald Levy.”

“No! No, you can’t use that name. No name that will tell anyone he is helping us.” The man with the long white beard shook his head. “We won’t risk it. This is Mr. Reginald Gray—and he may be our salvation."

REGINALD. THE HUMANSinsisted on calling him that name and speaking to him in English, not the language of their forefathers, a language he knew with some innate wisdom.

They gave commands. Protect the children.

From what? With that same innate knowledge that allowed for understanding of an ancient tongue, he knew children would fear his size and ferocity.