Chapter Twenty-Three
I cursed and grabbed the stone, shoving it down the front of my pants. He tried to go in after it, and I slapped his hand. “I don’t think so.”
The commotion caused the guards to glance inside. All they saw was Murphy trying to get in my pants.
Grinning, they turned around again.
“Where did you get that?” I whispered furiously.
“Where do you think?”
I tried to recall when he’d been anywhere near the diamond.
Aha! Earlier that morning he’d ducked into Mezareau’s hut to check on the leopard skin.
“Mezareau just leaves it lying around?” I asked. “With you on the loose?”
“Not exactly.” His expression was sheepish. “I have some experience unlocking things.” Murphy cracked his knuckles.
Of course he did.
“What happened to stealing is stealing no matter who you steal from?” I asked.
“You said that, not me. I didn’t come all this way—get kidnapped, drugged, donate blood, and become next on a bokor ’s hit list—to walk away empty-handed.”
“When did you plan on telling me about this?”
“I just did. Now give that back.”
“No.”
“Cassandra.”
“Devon.”
“You sound like my mother.” He made a face. “Call me Murphy.”
“No problem.” I didn’t want him remembering his mother when he looked at me, either.
Murphy glanced at the door. “I don’t think you should keep it.”
“And you should? He’ll kill you, but he won’t kill me.”
“Not until he’s got his army anyway.”
“Mezareau’s going to notice his diamond is gone.”
“I don’t plan to be here when that happens; do you?”
“No. Have any ideas on how we get out of here?”
“Not a one. Even if we can sneak past the guards, half a zombie army, and Mezareau, we’re going to have waterfall issues.” He paused, considering. “You don’t know any spells that would make them all go away? Or even better, one that might transport us back to Port-au-Prince?” He snapped his fingers.
“Poof?”
“Suddenly you believe in spells?”
“After this morning, it seems foolish not to. So, you know any?”
“Voodoo is about religion, not magic.”
“Turning those zombies to dust seemed like magic to me. Hell, them being alive in the first place is so against any religion I’ve ever heard of it has to be something outside of it.”
“It is,” I murmured.
My prattle about religion and magic just wasn’t holding up. As Mezareau had said, the longer I was here, the more magic happened. I wasn’t sure if that was a result of me or the jungle, perhaps both. Either way, I was getting kind of scared of my power. Though if things got nasty, my power might be all that stood between Murphy and me and eternity.
The day passed with agonizing slowness. We sat and stared at each other, the wall, the floor, out the window. Our meals were brought to us. We were allowed to use the facilities—such that they were— one at a time. When darkness fell, I was no closer to a plan of escape than I’d been when the sun shone.
I fell asleep, and when I awoke the soft glow of a candle illuminated the hut. Murphy sat on the ground, shirtless, his skin gleaming in the heat and the murky light. I’d have been captivated by the sight, if he hadn’t gone through my backpack and laid out every one of my things in a tidy row.
I sat up and he glanced at me. “Sorry. I just—” He spread his hands. “All we’ve got is this. I was trying to figure out how we could use it.” He picked up the knife. “Never thought I’d see the day when sharp steel was worthless.”
“Silver,” I corrected.
Murphy turned the blade, and the flames of the candle sparked off the polished surface. “Fancy.”
“Practical. Until recently, silver killed just about anything.”
He lifted his gaze. “You’ve used this to kill things?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’m not that kind of Jäger-Sucher.”
I could tell he wanted to roll his eyes and say something derisive, but he couldn’t anymore. “What kind are you?”
“Not much of one, really. I know voodoo, and since the latest werewolf problem involved a voodoo curse, I was asked to help. Most of the Jäger-Suchers are fighters.” I took a breath. “Honestly, they’re killers. They stop at nothing to get the j ob done, because they know if they don’t, people will die.”
“Tell me about them,” Murphy urged.
I hesitated. The Jäger-Suchers were supposed to be a secret, but since I had my doubts Murphy and I would get out of here alive—and really, what else did we have to do?—I told him.
“The Jäger-Suchers are a monster-hunting society run by Edward Mandenauer. He was a spy in WW
II, sent to discover what Hitler was up to.”
“He was up to a lot,” Murphy muttered.
“More than anyone ever knew. Hitler was fascinated with wolves and werewolves. Maybe because Adolf means ‘Noble Wolf’—who knows? He chose the title f ührer because it refers to the leader of a pack of hunting wolves. He even sanctioned a secret terrorist organization known as the werewolves.”
“What did they do?”
“Near the end of the war, when things began to go badly for Germany, recruits were taken from the Hitler Youth, the SS, the army, civilians. In the way of a werewolf they would appear to be normal citizens in the daylight, but at night they were charged to wreak death and destruction on their enemy by any means possible.”
“And they were really werewolves?”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.
“Edward never said. I’m not sure if he knows.”
“What did your boss discover about Hitler?”
“Have you heard of Josef Mengele?” At Murphy’s blank expression I elaborated. “The doctor who performed medical experiments on the Jews, the Gypsies, and—well, pretty much anyone he wanted to.”
“Nutcake,” Murphy muttered.
“Times ten. Hitler ordered Mengele to make a werewolf army, so he did.”
“How?”
“A little bit of this, a whole lot of that. No one’s really certain, since Herr Doktor destroyed all the records.”
“But he didn’t destroy the werewolves.”
“No. Those he released. They’ve been multiplying ever since. Along with a lot of other things he devised in his secret lab in the Black Forest. Edward was supposed to eliminate the monsters, but he got there too late. He’s been trying to make up for that ever since.”
“This all sounds crazy. Until you see a zombie disintegrate before your eyes.”
“Try watching a man turn into a wolf and back again. It isn’t pretty.”
“I can imagine.” His lips tightened. “Or maybe I can’t. What other things did Mengele release?”