Free Kursed by Lindsay Smith

it’s kept me alive, but the cost—who knows how many lives the psychics I’ve found will endanger? When all I’m doing is giving a new platform to men like Rostov … it’s not worth the scientific advancements I’ve been able to make.”
    Andrei’s mouth wavers, as if he’s fighting off something—a smile or a frown, I can’t tell. Olga arches a single eyebrow.
    â€œIf you want to find Rostov, I won’t stop you. I don’t expect you to risk your lives to join me. But I’m going to find these Americans who are supposed to meet with Herr Trammel, and I’m going to offer my services to them.”
    â€œWhat makes you think they’ll be any better?” Olga asks.
    I let the vision wash over me, gentle as waves lapping at a beach. Sun trickling through high windows, across a classroom, gilding the walls. The dark-haired girl turns her attention to the professor. She doesn’t see me, but I see her, I know her, I know this place—it is home. A home I’ve never seen before. A home far, far away from everything I’ve done, everything more that Rostov and all the rest might ask me to do. The lack of tightness in my chest, the lightness in my step like I’ve cast off a thousand lies.
    â€œBecause I can see it,” I say.
    Andrei rears back, like a snake preparing to strike. Then he propels himself to his feet. “All right. I’ll join you. We’ll make our case to these Americans who were supposed to be extracting Trammel. Offer our services, instead.” He taps his temple. “With what we’re capable of, they’d have a real tough time turning us down.”
    I glance toward Olga. “Again—I understand completely if you don’t wish to join us, but—”
    â€œI got no allegiance.” She pulls a lighter from her pocket and flicks it to life. “To you, to Rostov, to anyone.”
    My throat constricts; I force myself to nod.
    â€œBut I think you’re right. Anything’s got to be better than this. The way we live now. Fear, uncertainty, never knowing who’s peering inside your head … and that’s even before the war started up. Don’t worry.” She puffs a cigarette to life. “If I don’t join you, I’ll at least help you on your way.”
    The world flickers like a hazy film projector. Again, I see the doorway of flames, Olga standing nearby, pointing, shouting with no noise. But it’s gone before I can examine it, replaced by another image. Andrei, this time. His face looms just in front of mine and the warmth of his skin radiates against my cheek. “Nina,” he whispers—my nickname—with flushed, ripe lips. “Nina. We can find a way.”
    The visions fade away, revealing Olga and Andrei watching me, and Doctor Stokowski watching all of us, clueless as to the content of our conversation in Russian. I raise my head high. “Then I think it’s time, Andrei, that you found us our way to Berlin.”
    We wait in the tree line for over an hour while Andrei scouts out each approaching vehicle. I don’t know what he’s looking for—they all seem capable of carrying the four of us, as best as I can tell—but he lets two military transit trucks pass and a convoy of motorcycles. Finally, we hear a rumble in the distance, and a slow smile unfurls on Andrei’s face.
    Andrei strides slowly, confidently, toward the road with both hands upraised while we wait where he asked us to. He’s wearing the SS uniform again, but the coat is unbuttoned, hanging loose around him like a shawl. A sleek black officer’s car approaches, its lengthy engine casing protruding forward like a sneer. The vehicle decelerates and pulls onto the shoulder. Even idle, the engine purrs, caged, eager to pounce.
    â€œWhat is the problem, officer?” someone says in German from inside the cab. They’ve rolled down the