CHAPTER 20

S ometimes I wished I smoked. Then I’d have a reason to go outside when stuck in some uncomfortable place. As the evening dragged on, I started to feel like I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I approached Amelia.

“I need to get some air. I have my phone with me.”

When Dierdre bought the dress in Queen City, I took it to a seamstress who created a discreet pocket on the right side and one without a bottom on the left. I carried my phone in the pocket, and the left-side non-pocket allowed access to the dagger strapped to my left thigh. My trust issues didn’t dissipate just because I put on a fancy dress.

I had to explain to three different security guards that I was just stepping out for some fresh air and reassure them that I wouldn’t stray far.

But when I finally stood on the steps of the Guild Hall, and drew in the night air, it was like escaping a prison. The lake and the river cooled the night air in Zürich, even in the middle of summer.

I sort of wandered around aimlessly, making sure I stayed close to the building. The unrest in the city obviously made the Council nervous, and security was as heavy as I’d ever seen it.

I walked into a narrow Gasse next to the building, very dark and rather intimidating. I heard a sound, and my natural curiosity got the better of me. I cast my personal shield and walked carefully along until I saw something on the ground next to the wall of the adjacent building. Creeping closer, I realized the sound I heard was someone crying.

The girl, probably not any older than I was, sat on the ground, her face in her hands, sobbing. Her hair—which had been fixed rather elegantly in a French twist—was in disarray, as was her dress, the bodice askew.

I approached and sat down beside her. When I reached out to touch her shoulder, she flinched. Then seeing me, she settled back, crying as though her heart was broken.

“Are you okay?”

“Noooo,” she wailed.

“Who was it?”

“Erik, the bastard.”

I put my arm around her and pulled her to me. I had a brief flash that my silk dress probably wouldn’t appreciate her tears, then felt ashamed of myself. When the hell did I start caring about things instead of people?

After about fifteen minutes, she wound down. Probably exhausted.

“Can you walk?” I asked her.

She nodded. I stood and helped her to her feet. She leaned on me, and I led her out of the Gasse. I had passed a female security guard earlier, so we bypassed a couple of men to find her.

“Oh, my God! What happened?” the woman said when we approached her, hurrying toward us with alarm and concern evident in her face.

“She was assaulted, I think,” I said. “I just found her in the Gasse.”

The guard took the girl and had her sit on the Hall steps, then made a call on her walkie-talkie.

“I need to go in,” I said, “or someone will come looking for me. You’ll call a healer?”

The woman nodded. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

A couple of male guards had come over as well. I turned and climbed the steps back to the Hall. I stopped at the top and looked around, then opened the door and stepped inside, casting a glamor of invisibility as I did.

When I re-entered the ballroom, I skirted the edges of the crowd until I came to Roland Müller and his boys. I knew who Erik was—Roland’s best friend and sycophant. I was so angry I was spitting fire, but what I heard pushed me into full-blown rage.

“Oh, she was no, no, no at first,” Erik was bragging to his homeboys. “Then, when I stuck it in her, it changed to please, please, please,” he said, laughing. “Little whore loved it, like they all do. All pure and sweet until you get them alone, and then they can’t get enough of it.”

I stepped up behind him and punched him in the kidney with my new spelled athame . It penetrated his Enforcer uniform and slid into him up to the hilt. Then I backed away and watched him stiffen, start shaking, and crumble to the floor, whimpering and writhing in pain. In martial arts, a blow to the kidney is a foul because of how painful and debilitating it is. We were trained not to hit someone there except in a street fight.

After going to the ladies’ room to clean the blood off my knife, I rejoined my party on the ballroom floor. By that time, quite a crowd had gathered around the wounded man.

Amelia shot me a look when I walked up.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No, what happened? I was outside. Some poor girl got assaulted out there.”

She gave me a long, appraising look, which I returned with my most innocent expression.

Thankfully, the tragedies caused most people to lose their appetites for merrymaking, and we left shortly thereafter.

* * *

W hen I came down for breakfast the following morning, I found Amelia and her brother sitting at my table. They were facing the window, so I quietly moved up behind them to eavesdrop.

“My Enforcers said it was a tall girl with black hair in a red dress who brought the girl to them,” Colonel Sorento said.

“She had gone outside for some air,” Amelia replied, “but she came back about the time of the incident in the ballroom. She denied knowing anything about it.”

I decided I had enough of the conversation to be forearmed.

“What happened?” I asked as I took my chair. “Some guy collapsed?”

“Some guy—Erik Schonberg—was knifed,” the colonel said.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. All of that gang should have their breathing licenses revoked. Is he dead?”

“He’ll live,” Sorento said.

“How about the girl I found outside?” I asked. “Is she all right?”

“She’s being cared for. Where did you find her?”

“In the Gasse on the south side of the building. Sitting there in the dirt, her hair and dress all messed up, crying her heart out. It was pretty obvious what had happened.”

Siobhan showed up with a pot of tea and a glass of orange juice.

“Any idea what you want this morning?’

“Fried eggs and bratwurst.”

She went away, and Amelia said, “Did the girl say who assaulted her?”

I shook my head. “I asked, but I’m not sure she answered me. She was sobbing so hard that it was difficult to understand her.”

“We believe that her attacker was Erik Schonberg,” Sorento said.

“Wow. How’s that for karma?”

The colonel stared at me, but Amelia just shook her head.

* * *

A couple of days later, Siobhan came to my room while I sat reading in the chair by the window.

“Frau Buckner says there’s someone at the door for you.”

“I don’t think anyone knows I live here. I’m not supposed to have visitors,” I said, getting up from the chair and slipping on my shoes.

“You’re the Master’s apprentice, and you don’t live in the Apprentice Hall at the Guild. It’s not as though this house is the deepest secret in Zürich,” she replied.

I traipsed downstairs, vaguely disturbed by the thought my visitor might be Nikolas Müller. When I met Frau Buckner at the bottom of the stairs, I said, “I didn’t invite anyone here.”

She gave me an indulgent smile. “I didn’t think you did.” She pointed out the front windows, where a slender woman—maybe eighteen or twenty years old—with dark hair and wearing a summer dress sat by the fountain. She looked vaguely familiar.

I went out and approached her. She stood, the top of her head coming just past my shoulder.

“Frau Dunne? I’m Elise Merkle. We met at the Guild ball the other night.”

The light went on. The girl who was assaulted.

I sat down, and she resumed her seat. “It was dark,” I said.

“Yes. I just came to say thank you. Your kindness meant all the world to me.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I only did what any normal person would have done. How are you doing?”

She shrugged. “All right. The healers helped, but I have dreams.”

I put my arms around her. “It’s been four years, but I still have dreams. And trust issues. You have to always tell yourself that some stupid bastard is not going to define your life.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she spontaneously kissed me on the cheek.

“I don’t believe in God,” she said, “but now I know that angels are real. The Angel of Charity, and the Angel of Retribution. Both in the same person. Thank you, Frau Dunne.”

When I went back inside, Frau Buckner said, “The Master wants to see you.”

I knocked on his door, and when he answered, followed him into his study.

He didn’t ask a question, simply raised an eyebrow.

“The girl who was assaulted at the ball, Elise Merkle. She came to talk about angels.”

“Oh? And which angels would those be?”

“The Angel of Charity and the Angel of Retribution.”

He studied me for some time, his eyes focused a little above me—where a person’s aura shows the strongest.

“Luka and Amelia came to see me. Luka was somewhat upset about what he called vigilante justice.” He chuckled. “When he mentioned attempted murder, Amelia corrected him. She said that if you wanted Erik Schonberg dead, he would be dead.”

He studied me a little more, then said, “I think Frau Elise sees very clearly. One has to be able to handle the extremes to find the middle. You contain balance. Go and enjoy your day.”