Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ 04 ( Chapter 4 )

4

 

Welcome, my son…

 

Morning cranked on toward noon, and I was having trouble staying alert. We'd arrived in Hamburg only to board another, much smaller jet heading south. I missed the name of the city, but I knew it was southward. And maybe a little further east. In any case, at least I was too tired to really care about the plane being small. My whole body buzzed with caffeine and tiredness, and my head felt really heavy. Maybe that would keep trespassers out, at any rate. Walking was a challenge, since I'd been sitting for so long already; my knees were kind of rubbery, and my feet were hurting cold. I'd never have guessed that airplanes could do that to a body.

 

My musing continued until we landed, apparently to stay landbound for the duration. Hansen directed me toward a sleek black car, not quite a limousine but not really that far from it. I got into the back seat, Olaf got in next to me, and to my unhappy surprise Hansen got in on the other side, effectively trapping me in between them. I could feel the sweat start under my arms. I concentrated on just breathing, keeping myself calm and still so they wouldn't notice.

 

“We shall be arriving at the Academy within the hour,” Hansen informed me, his tone like frost - cold and sharp. “Once there, I shall bid you farewell, and good luck, Bradley Crawford. Due to the nature of your gift, you have been assigned a mentor and guardian to help you through your adjustment. You are to obey him without question, and learn much under his care. He is one of the best at what he does. You would do well to pay attention to him.”

 

I nodded, in both senses of the term. Blinking, I forced myself to alertness. If only I had some of that overcooked airline coffee.

 

A chill passed by me, then seemed to settle inside. I found my gaze drawn to the left side window, and the first glimpse of my new home.

 

It looked like a fortress with high walls that hid everything within. We drove around the perimeter until we reached a break in the gray. The massive gate gleamed in the sunlight but gave no hint of warmth beyond it. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but somehow this gate was not it - it wasn't iron or even bronze: it shone gunmetal blue.

 

I stared, transfixed, as it swung open, and the car progressed beyond it. I couldn't help but turn to look out the back window, to watch the slow, inexorable glide of it closing with a silent snap behind me.

 

I was truly locked within the haunted house now.

 

Olaf held the car door for me, and then retrieved my suitcase from the trunk. This time I allowed him to carry it; my arms felt too heavy as it was. I needed sleep, somewhere safe from nightmares, but I had my doubts as to whether I would find that here.

 

Hansen led me into the first building, and up. I was already quite lost, so I didn't bother trying to pay attention anymore. I just wanted the day to be over. I'd gone this long without good sleep before, but only once, and I didn't like it much.

 

Another turn, another hallway, and then Hansen stopped. I looked up. We were at a large wooden door with the number 613 on it. Hansen knocked.

 

There was a pause, then the door opened inward to reveal what looked like an apartment. Someone other than Hansen or Olaf spoke in German, and though I couldn't make out what he was saying I could tell he was pleased to see us. Then the door opened wider, inviting us inside, and I followed my escort through it.

 

Only then did I get a look at our host. He was a tall, strong-looking man, with pale gold hair and a handsome face. I didn't think he could be more than thirty. He was wearing some kind of military uniform, as though he'd gotten dressed up to receive us or something. All the way down to the crisp white gloves. And clearly he outranked Hansen and Olaf: even though they were older, they were deferring to him.

 

Then he turned to address me, an honest and pleasant smile on his face though he did not offer to shake my hand. “Welcome to Germany, Herr Crawford. I am General Schoenberg. You will be staying here for the first several days, until you get your bearings.” He had one of those rich, practiced voices that sounded almost British, and he pronounced “general” with a hard “G”, something I had only heard in movies.

 

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir,” I replied. I found myself wondering if he was the kind of person who would look you in the eye, someone with more character than Hansen. Slowly I looked up. When I made eye contact, I wished I hadn't: blue eyes with just a hint of green gazed steadily into my own. My weary mind tried to throw visions at me, and I found myself staring.

 

His smile didn't change. “You are most welcome.”

 

Before I could sink in any further, he turned away and dismissed Hansen and Olaf. They bowed and exited, Olaf with a tiny wave where Hansen wouldn't see it.

 

As the door whispered shut, my eyelids tried to do the same, slipping down with no regard for my intentions. I stumbled standing, a neat trick that only the extremely tired can manage to pull off.

 

“I had hoped you might sleep on the plane,” the General said, his tone mild. “There is much to do before you can begin classes.” He came over to me and gently put his hand on the middle of my back, pushing lightly. “But come, you're useless if you're sleeping on your feet,” he chuckled, and he propelled me toward a door near the back of the room. “This used to be my office, but I've had it converted for you. There is a cot and a desk. For the next few weeks, this room is yours. I suggest you get some rest now, while you can. Things will be rather busy soon enough.”

 

I was too tired to really care, so I let him guide me. The room was a little cramped, but not bad, and there was plenty of light. I set my carry-on down on the desk, then realized my suitcase was still over by the main door.

 

Before I could go back for it, Schoenberg returned with it in hand. I hadn't even noticed him leaving. Again he smiled, and again I found myself staring. I'd dreamed of eyes like his, blue with a hint of green. But no, this was wrong - those eyes were mischief and delight, but his were…grim. Still the color of laughter, but stained somehow.

 

He raised a slim pale eyebrow, and I realized I was frowning. I took my glasses off and wiped at my face. “I think I'll try that nap now,” I murmured. “I hope I'm not inconveniencing you.”

 

“No, it's fine,” he replied, watching me more closely than I liked. I couldn't tell if he was doing that sifting through my mind thing, but it wouldn't have surprised me much if he had been. His eyebrow arched a little higher, and I wondered if that meant he'd heard that last thought. All of a sudden it was all I could do not to laugh: exhaustion had made me silly, but I couldn't afford to give in to it. Instead, I glanced meaningfully at the door, hoping he would take my hint and give me some privacy.

 

The General smiled a more gentle smile, and said, “I'll wake you for dinner. Sleep well, Bradley.” Then he turned and strode from my room, pushing the door nearly shut behind him.

 

I debated whether I wanted to leave it ajar or close it entirely. Sudden fear of being locked in swelled up, and I decided to just leave it be. I wanted a shower, I wanted a meal, but I was so tired all that would have to wait. My travel clothes got dumped in a heap on the floor, my pajamas got dragged out of my suitcase, and I was pretty sure I was asleep before I even reached the bed.

 

A/N:

 

Welcome my son…

“Welcome to the Machine” - Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here

 

This…is darker than it looks. When Bradley compares Rosenkreuz to the haunted house, remember - once the door slams behind you, it usually doesn't open again until daybreak, or until everyone is dead…