Free Conspiracy of Blood and Smoke by Anne Blankman Page A

to go blank.
    Eva was sobbing. “I know it’s a sin. And I’ve had no one to talk to, not since you’ve been gone.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket but didn’t use it, twisting the fabric into a rope instead. “Sometimes I wish I could die rather than go on like this. I tried back in November.”
    Her words pulled Gretchen back into the conversation. She gasped. “Eva, you mustn’t—”
    Eva raised agonized eyes to Gretchen’s. “My family had gone out for the evening. I stayed in, hoping Adolf would call, but when he didn’t, I—I just lost my head. I took Papa’s Great War pistol from the bedside table and shot myself in the neck.”
    Unconsciously, she stroked her throat, as though she could feel the bullet plunging into her skin. “My sister came home early and got me to a doctor. Adolf was so worried when he found out. He was in the midst of a campaigning trip but he rushed back right away. He brought me flowers.”
    She gave Gretchen a small smile. “You understand, don’t you? You must, for you’ve known him practically your whole life. He’s different from other men. He believes so completely in himself and his vision for a new Germany, and who am I to stand in his way? I must be grateful for whatever he’s able to give me.”
    Gretchen couldn’t help thinking of Geli, Hitler’s half niece. They’d been good friends, too, until the day she’d seen Geli dead on her bedroom floor. Suicide had been the official verdict, but she’d never been able to accept it. Geli had been too alive, too merry to kill herself. And yet here was Eva, fun-loving and vivacious, playing with death, too. What had Hitler done to her friends to change them so drastically?
    “You deserve a man who’s proud to be with you,” Gretchen said, “not a man who hides you away—”
    “It’s my choice,” Eva interrupted. She raised her chin, as if daring Gretchen to say anything else, but Gretchen was silent. She knew too well how people believed what they wanted to—she had done the same for the first seventeen years of her life.
    So she kissed Eva on both of her cheeks, saying, “Thanks. I’ll never forget you.” Then she buckled her suitcase again andsqueezed between the tightly clustered trees toward the pathway leading out of the park and into the darkness covering the city.

    In a pocket of copper beeches, she stopped to gather her thoughts. The blackness was heavy between the trees, and she felt hidden from the world. Was Daniel still in Munich? Probably not, as no one seemed to have seen him in days. Which meant there was only one possible place he could be—Berlin. He would be determined to uncover what had really happened to the woman he was supposed to have killed—not only because he wanted to clear his name, but also to prove the National Socialists were murderous thugs.
    Somehow, she would have to find him in the capital. She looked at the sky. It was an unrelieved black. Soon the stars would appear, and with them, the night express to Berlin.
    And she would be on it.

    She took a streetcar to the central train station. Leaning her head against the window, she watched the familiar streets trundle past. A memory tugged at the corners of her mind, begging to be let in. Finally, exhausted, she surrendered to it.
    She had recognized those copper beeches in the park. Hitler had taken her and Papa there when she was six, back in the days when the Party was new and its leader was still an obscure politician. They had veered off the path, tramping through the woods where the trees crowded so close she could barely see the pewter sky above.
    “Adi, aren’t you afraid to travel without bodyguards?” Papa had asked. “There are some in the city who would like to kill you.”
    Uncle Dolf had laughed. “I take every precaution with my life, Müller. Besides, I have a skill few know about.” He had nodded at Gretchen. “Walk ahead of us a bit, my sunshine. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
    She had