Free Conspiracy of Blood and Smoke by Anne Blankman

waiting beyond the swell of the hills. She dropped her bag on the ground and started undoing the buckles, her movements quick and jerky. The revolver was unloaded, but she could fill its chambers with bullets in a matter of seconds.
    “What are you doing?” Eva sank to her knees beside Gretchen. “You look ill.”
    “Tell me what you’ve learned about Daniel.” She glanced back again. Nothing except trees and a field intersected with empty walking paths. She unfastened the second buckle.
    “He wasn’t arrested.” Eva’s voice was matter-of-fact, her gaze steady. Gretchen remembered how Eva twisted her hair around a finger if she was fibbing, like the time she’d sworn to her mother that she and Gretchen hadn’t snitched the cooking brandy from the kitchen.
    Eva was telling the truth.
    Daniel might still be alive and safe, somewhere. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. “Thank you,” Gretchen said, and she couldn’t stop the hot tears from filling her eyes.
    She half rose, scanning her surroundings. No one. Maybe Eva really had come alone. The sky had already turned black, butno stars had appeared yet. Another few minutes and the darkness would be so complete that she’d be at the mercy of night and whatever it concealed. She had to get away as quickly as she could.
    “Did you learn anything else?” she asked Eva, who shook her head.
    “Herr Hoffmann telephoned the central station—I made up a ridiculous story about wanting to know about Herr Cohen out of respect for my long friendship with you, and happily I think the boss had been hitting the bottle again because he didn’t seem to find it strange at all. Anyway, loads of reporters from the Socialist and Communist newspapers were rounded up today, but your man wasn’t among them. The policeman said they didn’t have anyone with that name registered as an inmate.”
    It was better than she’d let herself hope. Gretchen embraced Eva, quick and hard. “I’ll forever be grateful to you.”
    “You’ll always be my friend. Always.” Eva’s breath was warm on Gretchen’s cheek. “But you can’t stay in Munich.” She hesitated. “He still talks about you,” she added softly, looking away from Gretchen, fiddling with her gloves as though she were embarrassed. “I don’t know what happened between you, but he hates you now. I won’t tell anyone you’re back, I promise. But I can’t protect you.”
    Chills raced up Gretchen’s spine. Hitler hadn’t forgotten her. Deep down, she’d known he wouldn’t—in his eyes, she had betrayed him too thoroughly to be ignored or cast aside. He might have his men looking for her even now. She knew the strength of his willpower all too well—once he settled upon a goal, nothing would swerve him from it. As long as he lived, hewould want her found and punished. Back in England, she was beyond his control. Here, if the National Socialists found her, she was dead.
    In the shadows, Eva’s face was white, her eyes dark as coals. Impulsively, Gretchen snatched her hands. “Come with me. We can leave Munich together.” She almost blurted out that Hitler was dangerous and had killed her father, but stopped herself in time. She must go slowly. Instead, she added, “You have to see what kind of a man Hitler is, if you know how badly he wants to hurt me.”
    Eva pulled her hands free. “I can’t.” There was a plaintive note in her voice. “I love him. And nobody understands. Not you, not my parents. They think I ought to be married and having babies. And Adolf keeps me a secret. He’s always saying that he’ll never marry me.
    “Never.” Her face twisted. “And I’ve spoiled myself for other men. Nobody will want me now, but it hardly matters because I only want him.”
    Revulsion coursed up Gretchen’s throat. Spoiled . Eva must have made love with Hitler. Her former second father and her old best friend, lying together, their limbs tangled. Gretchen stared at the black lines of the trees, willing her mind