The wrong Side of the River 2

The impact of the tree had sent the brunette to the ground, but it hadn’t hurt her physically, and so, Fiona and Lilly could lead her into the house where she had to sit down on a chair and got her hands cuffed behind the backrest. She seemed quite puzzled by the turn of events, and by the group of barely dressed women around her.

»So, did your comrade just send you to look after me, or did you intent to kill me?«, Fiona asked, pointing at her captive with her own Luger. The brunette remained silent, and Fiona now showed a sardonic smile.

»Oh, I know what you are thinking! That you are too tough to be broken! However, as you told me that night, after you brought me here, there are more methods to make someone talk than just asking!«

According to her behaviour, her kidnappers hadn’t tortured Fiona, if one didn’t count keeping her bound gagged and hooded for hours. Still, the brunette didn’t say a word, but Lilly noticed a glimpse of fear in her brown eyes. She decided to play the good cop:

»Maybe, she needs a drink, after all, she got hit by a tree!«

Fiona scoffed, but didn’t protest as Lilly went for a jug and poured some water in a cup, allowing the brunette to drink. Still trying a friendly approach, she asked:

»Maybe, you want to start by telling us your name?«

»Oh, yes, you didn’t even show the goddamn courtesy to introduce yourselves when you abducted me from my home!«, Fiona added, and though she tried to sound tough, Lilly sensed some oppressed rage and humiliation; after all, the brunette and her accomplice had kept her cuffed to the bed, gagged with her own stockings, and this seemed to gnaw on her.

The brunette looked at Lilly when she answered:

»I am Romy – Romy Schmitt!«

Lilly was sure that her last name was an alias, but now, she could address their captive, and since Fiona hadn’t interrupted her so far, she added:

»Well, I am Lilly! I would also introduce my friends to you, but you already know Fiona – and she has all reason to be angry, and she wants to have some answers!«

She stepped aside, enjoying the expression of unwilling admiration on the redhead’s face. She seemed to have seen a few crime movies, too, for she turned around the other chair and sat astride of it, facing Romy and leaning her arms on the backrest. Lilly guessed that this move would have worked better if she had worn trousers, but when the dress slid up, only her knees were exposed, and in addition, they were among girls.

»Now, Romy, you and your friend already told me that you, or rather the German Government, wants to know what I am doing here! Well, as I told you, I am a British journalist. And though the relationship between England and Germany may be called a bit strained, we are not at war with each other – at least not yet!«

Lilly shuddered. She knew that in early 1939, the British and French appeasement policy towards Hitler was coming to an end, and when he would attack Poland in September, both countries would declare war. She wondered whether Fiona was telling the truth: for a journalist, she was acting a little too tough in such a situation.

Fiona now held the Luger so close to Romy’s face the barrel almost touched her nose.

»Don’t you think that, although I am from a civilized country, I can also become a bit – uncivilized when I want my questions answered?«

Romy let out a fluttering breath, but she still didn’t say a word. Fiona got up, and she then not too gently freed Romy’s wrists. Then, she made the girl stand up.

»As much as I love a good conversation, I am sure that sooner or later, your accomplice will miss you! So, I think we should surprise her by striking first!«

Then, pointing at Romy with the gun, she added:

»Take off your clothes!«

Romy gasped, and the others looked a bit puzzled, too. Fiona explained:

»To get closer at her accomplice, we have to trick her – and if you put on her clothes and a cap, she might mistake you for Romy, allowing me to get close enough to disarm her!«

It was addressed at Lilly who had put on the first things from the clothesline who were both way too big for her. Romy, however, was perhaps a little taller than her, but her clothes would fit.

Reluctantly, Romy took off her jacket and then her boots. She then slipped out of her sweater, revealing a cotton shirt. Fiona made an inviting gesture, and Romy pulled the shirt from her trousers and unbuttoned it. When she revealed a white sleeveless chemise with lace trimming, Lilly couldn’t help thinking that they had finally reached the more feminine layers.

The girl finally opened her belt and took off her trousers, too. Under her socks, she wore silky stockings that reached under the hem of her chemise that went to the middle of her thighs. Fiona allowed her to stop when she had taken off the socks. Then, she directed her upstairs, followed by the others except for Nesrin and Marguerite who kept guard at the window.

In the room where Fiona had been kept, Romy had to lie down and her wrists were cuffed to the upper bedposts. Then, her ankles were tied with rope, and Fiona slowly balled up the crumpled stockings she had been gagged with.

»The two Blacks will raise too much attention, so they will stay here with you – and none of them speaks German! So, there is no need for you to talk!«

She stuffed the balled up stockings into Romy’s mouth, obviously enjoying her disgusted retching, and secured the gag with the cloth that had been used on her. To Daisy, she said in English:

»I leave it to you if you want to hood her, too!«

»If you are just a journalist, I am Winston Churchill!«, Lilly stated, more and more puzzled by the way Fiona handled things. The redhead smiled at her.

»I may tell you more when we have made sure that these Krauts will no longer be able to do their evil schemes – no offense to you!«

Fiona’s next step was rather simple: she would follow the ski tracks of the other German woman and try to get her into her clutches. As she had said, she wanted Daisy and Sayana to stay with Romy. She pointed at the door of the other room.

»I think we will find something to dress for all of you there!«

The room looked as if the German agents hadn’t arrived long ago, for most of their clothes were still in their suitcases. Fiona found some stockings and a pair of woollen socks for herself, and she left it to the girls to take what they needed.

Some ten minutes later, all were more or less adequately dressed. Lilly wore Romy’s clothes, including a bra and panties from one of the suitcases. They looked a bit old-fashioned and didn’t fit too well, but they were more or less like underwear she knew. Daisy, who still had her own panties, just put on a chemise and the discarded trousers and pullover from Lilly. Even on the tallish girl, they were too long, and Lilly could remember that the blonde German had been tall.

Nesrin needed the help of Marguerite to close one of the bras over her ample breasts, and she chose socks and a plain dress, for there were no more trousers left. Marguerite chose lacy panties and a garter belt with stockings, together with the last bra and a dress that was too big. Sayana, who would stay in the house anyway, just draped a blanket loosely over her shoulders.

There were enough boots for all of them, but only two jackets, so Nesrin put on the oversized sweater whilst Marguerite covered herself with another blanket. They quickly hugged; then, Daisy and Sayana closed the door after them. Fiona pointed at the discarded ski.

»You can walk on these?«

»A little!«

She had last been standing on ski when she had been in the Alps with her class five years ago, but she was sure that she would manage to get down a not too steep hill without slipping. Now, she had to go slow pace anyway, as the others were walking beside her.

They were four girls, they had a gun, and Fiona seemed to know what they were doing, but Lilly nevertheless felt nervous.

***

Tiny Tim had been walking down the mountains without a real goal when he had seen something that had taken him a few moments to fully understand. Though he had been raised in a society where supernatural powers and beings were a thing, he could be called quite reasonable, and so, when one of the trees in front of him suddenly disappeared, he thought that it had been chopped down. However, there had been no sound of an axe; instead, there had been a crack, like when a lightning hit a tree. He looked up to the sky, though he knew there were just a few clouds, and so, this was also no explanation. Curiously, he approached the little grove.

Technically, it was possible that someone had tied a bomb to the trunk and chopped the tree by blasting it – but why should anyone do so? Tiny Tim reached for his Kukri; in a country where everyone knew at once that he was a foreigner, he had stopped carrying firearms with him.

When he had reached the foot of the hill behind which he knew a house was located, he took of the snowshoes and sneaked forward until he could see the area. There was indeed a tree lying on the ground; its trunk looked splintered, but except for that, nothing looked suspicious. Tiny Tim could see no one around, but there were numerous tracks of feet and ski in the snow. There was light inside the house, indicating that someone was inside.

He felt something at his chest, and when he reached inside his shirt, he could feel that the amulet had become warmer. Memories rose in the back of his head: memories of Uncle Prashant’s stories about the witch. Could it be that-

He ducked deeper in his cover when the door opened, reflexively taking some snow into his mouth so his breath wouldn’t betray his position. A woman stepped outside, rubbing her arms when the cold air hit her. Tiny Tim held his breath when he saw she was black.

When he had left his Himalayan valley, Tiny Tim had met a few black people, and he knew that a dark complexion wasn’t a distinctive feature of witches, but the combination of his amulet getting warmer and that woman less than 100 yards away was more than just a coincidence.

Despite her skin colour, this woman didn’t fit the descriptions from Uncle Prashant: she was taller than him, maybe 5’7’’ or 5’8’’, and in addition, the amulet didn’t send stronger signals, now that there were no walls between them. She looked around, and Tiny Tim wondered if she was looking for him, but instead, she then went to the back corner of the house where she lowered her trousers and crouched.

He grinned. According to Uncle Prashant, at least »his« witch had had carnal desires, but did they also have physical needs? He watched the woman finish her business, adjust her clothes and get back inside. Before the door closed, he heard her say something, and Tiny Tim frowned. Though he hadn’t understood what she had said, she had spoken French – like Uncle Prashant’s witch had.

His granduncle had never learned a foreign language except from English, but he had discovered that learning languages was one of his strong suits, and therefore, Tiny Tim Junior not only spoke German quite fluently, he had also learned French, though he had hardly been able to practice. And yet, he could distinguish the language from others.

»All right, there are many black women in the world, and quite a few of those speak French! And this one wasn’t the witch!«

The door opened again, and this time, he knew it had to be her. This woman was black, too, but she was smaller, and she looked more exotic, as she was wrapped in a blanket instead of wearing European clothes. She staggered in the boots she wore, and she also went close to where her friend had been before she also squatted and relieved herself. Tiny Tim’s last doubts were eradicated when she reached for her neck; though he couldn’t see details, he knew that she was wearing the amulet Uncle Prashant had once given her.

»If it’s her, she hasn’t aged a day!«

The witch now rose, looking around. Her blanket gaped, allowing him to see she only wore a few coloured cloths underneath. She even made a few steps towards him; then, as the snow reached to her knees, she shook her head as if to shake off a bad dream, and she went back inside.

Only when the door had fallen shut, Tiny Tim realized he had held his breath the entire time. So, the amulet, the magic amulet his dying uncle had given him, had finally led him to the witch. His uncle’s witch, that had now, by legacy, become his witch!

Though he was obsessed by this thought, he still was capable of reasonable thoughts: there were at least two women inside, and according to the tracks, there were even more people who could come back any time. And yet, he knew that it would have killed him to just sit and wait.

So, he circled the house until he had reached its backside before he carefully approached. Before doing so, he had left his amulet behind, together with his snowshoes, to not warn the witch of his coming.

As he had hoped, the house had a back door, leading to a stack of firewood under a small roof. However, before he tried the handle, he sneaked towards the window and peeked inside. On a table, he could see the taller woman sit, her face buried in her hands. It looked as if she was sobbing. There was no sign of the witch, and he cursed silently. If they were at different floors, the witch would be warned if he entered now and the tall one managed to scream.

She suddenly rose, wiped her eyes and then rubbed her arms, as if she was shivering. Tiny Tim could see her open the oven lid and use a poker to stoke the embers. When she then inspected a wicker basket beside the oven, Tiny Tim understood: she was freezing, and since there were no logs left, she would have to fetch more firewood from the stack!

A minute later, Daisy pushed open the back door and placed the empty basket beside the stacked wood. She still was fuming, for once they had been alone, she and Sayana had quarrelled because her magic had ripped her away from Johnny Blacksmith. Sayana had made things worse by telling her that it was better not to interfere too much with the flow of time, to which Daisy had replied that her being involved in their initial kidnapping had stated the whole problem. Now, Sayana was upstairs, guarding Romy, whilst she at least had time to think.

She angrily threw logs into the basket when her eyes fell on something on the ground. Frowning, she bent forward and examined the silver coin.

It was a genuine Two-Shilling, and Tiny Tim had placed it there only because he had hoped that the Black would squat and lean forward like she did now, exposing her neck. He hit her carotid with the edge of his hand, and Daisy collapsed with a faint sigh.

Knowing he had only a few minutes, Tiny Tim pulled her inside. Then, he listened for sounds, and indeed, there was some barely audible mewing coming from above. Silently, he approached the ladder to the second floor.

Sayana was pulling the blanket closer over her body, shivering in the air that was getting colder. She regretted her quarrel with Daisy, and she would have loved to be held in her arms – especially since she had been outside, where she had sensed the presence of Tiny Tim. However, she knew he was dead.

Their adventures in India, though yesterday for them, had taken place some 80 years ago, and the Gurkha had been a fully grown man. Even if he had reached a very high age, he would be dead by now – like Johnny Blacksmith, the great-grandson of her younger sister.

She looked at the bed, where Romy was obviously also sensing the cold. Daisy had hooded her; Sayana guessed that she had done so not to make their captive suffer, but because she couldn’t do it to Sayana. She had thought of taking the black sack from the girl’s head when Daisy had left, slamming the door. However, Sayana needed to think, and she could do that easier if she wasn’t distracted by the German looking at her.

She heard a creak, indicating that Daisy was coming up the stairs. Sayana rose, and she forced a smile on her lips. If Daisy wanted to talk, if they could bury the hatchet-

Her amulet suddenly vibrated, and then, the door opened. Sayana’s jaw dropped, and she stared at the doorframe like petrified. There, just a yard away from her, stood Tiny Tim! She wanted to whisper his name, but only a faint croak came out of her throat.

He looked at her, obviously also enchanted, and instead of her, he could whisper a few words:

»Sayana! Belle sorcière!«

Sayana trembled slightly, and the blanket slid from her shoulders. Tiny Tim had spoke French, and he had changed a bit. He looked younger, and some of his physiognomy looked slightly different. And yet, she just stood there, and when he touched her cheek, brushing over it as if he wanted to test if she was real, it felt like an electric spark.

»T-Tiny Tim-«, she stammered, and he smiled whilst his eyes showed a strange sparkle. His hands caressed her cheeks, and when they wandered to her neck, Sayana opened her lips and closed her eyes, expecting a kiss.

Instead, there was a sharp pain when Tiny Tim pinched her carotid arteries. Sayana twitched and managed to open her eyes before she collapsed on the carpet.

The Gurkha forced himself to take his eyes from her and to look at the bed. On it, a woman in her underwear was tied up. A black hood covered her head, but he could see she was white. Under her chemise, he saw the lines of her bra, panties and garters.

He now had the witch, his witch – but he now felt another urge. Something his Uncle had shown a lot of understanding for, and also something he could only dream of most of the time. This time, however, he could join his passions and leave a mysterious message to the friends of the other Black.

He took his backpack from his shoulders and reached for the coiled leather rope. The girl on the bed mewed, but Tiny Tim didn’t say a word as he cut numerous lengths.

***

Eva Heyden thanked God that she was born before the collapse of the Austrian Empire in November 1918, albeit it was just three months. In the old times, birth certificates had been filled manually, allowing her to change her name with the help of ink-killing liquid. She hadn’t dared to erase her name completely, but she had changed »Heyden« to »Beiden«, and to her first name, she had added a »Maria«, making it look Christian. With this certificate, Eva-Maria Beiden had been in Vaduz, the capital of Liechtenstein, and asked for a provisionally passport that had cost her 50 Franks, but allowed her to walk freely and, what was even more important, rent a house for more than two weeks. Since the name was similar to her real one, she had adjusted to it, and after now almost half a year, she was sure that the Nazis had lost her track.

Her thoughts wandered to the blonde woman, who had asked her to come over, for some tea and chit-chat. A heavy yearning rushed through Eva’s mind: she had given up her old life, her budding career, and her friends (well, most of them had rather given up on her), and all just because her late father had been Jewish. Eva had always been a diligent student, but she had also enjoyed the possibilities a city like Vienna had offered to a pretty young girl. And now, the closest to that was her weekly trip to the next village, where she had a glass of beer at the local inn.

»Most likely, the blonde just invited me to be polite!«

However, what was the worst that could happen? If she showed up, the Germans could perhaps tell her they had an invitation and compliment her away. Anyway, it would be a possibility to dress up a bit for a change.

Since she had made her getaway with just a suitcase and a bag, Eva’s wardrobe was quite limited: She owned a pair of trousers, two sweaters and a coat for her walks in the mountains, and a plain skirt with two blouses and another coat for her weekly shopping trips. Also, she owned a small collection of underwear – and a dress that reminded her of the good days in Vienna.

Now, this dress was draped over her bed. It wasn’t especially fancy, but it was made of black silk and it shimmered in the dim light of her oil lamp. Eva looked down on her clothes, and she decided that she would do it: if the Germans would send her away, she had at least felt like a woman again, and even if they were boring, it would be a change in her tedious routine.

Eva’s washing commodities were equally limited: she could heat water on her oven, and she owned a few towels and a soap bar. She checked if she was alone (an unnecessary thing in that remote area) and undressed completely before she washed herself, adding a few drops of perfume under her arms, and, after some hesitating, also on her pubic mound. To Eva, putting perfume there felt a bit naughty, but she was lacking a real bath or shower for some time now.

She then put on the only silk panties she had, pale pink with a white lace trimming. These had seen better days, too, but since she didn’t intend to strip, they would do. Eva added a white plain bra, and for the first time in weeks, she also put on her garter belt. The black stockings were made of wool, a compromise between looking feminine and not freezing in the winter. When she had clipped them to her garters, she put on a chemise and her dress, checking her appearance in the small mirror she had in her hut.

»Still like a tramp – but like a female tramp, and she’s wearing a dress!«

When she put on her boots, she couldn’t resist raising the skirtings and to look at her legs. They were the best part of her, at least, that was what her girlfriends and the few men she had gone out with had agreed upon.

»And now, all they do is carry me from point A to point B!«

She forced the hairbrush through her golden tresses until she looked a bit less dishevelled, and then, she put on her better coat, plus her shawl and cap. The cottage of the two Germans was only half a mile away, so, she could go like that.

»I just hope they are not boring!«, she sighed before she locked her door and went on the path leading to the slightly broader path the natives called the »main road«.

***

»What is taking you so long, Romy?«

Trixi Blatter once again peeked out of the cottage’s rear window, only to see that her comrade still hadn’t finished looking after the British spy. She felt like in a flow, and she didn’t want to ruin her colleague that feeling.

A real field mission! Who would have considered that she, the daughter of a simple worker, would become not only a true secret agent, but even get promoted once they had completed this mission. And then? The possibilities seemed endless, even for a woman, since she belonged to the privileged of the system.

One could not say that Trixi had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She, her parents and her four siblings lived in a two room flat with no running water and a toilet on the corridor when she was born in 1918, just three days before the end of the Great War. Meat dishes were as rare as getting new clothes, and Trixi remembered that she had been eight years old when her elder sister had started working, getting her a bed for her own.

She was born as Beatrix, a name she didn’t like. She would have loved the sound of »Beatrice«, but that would have been the language of the arch enemy. And since an older friend, Beate, had reclaimed the nickname »Bea« for herself, she had become Trixi, though she didn’t like that either: if one heard the name »Trixi«, one expected something cute, but Trixi wasn’t cute, just too tall for her age. The fact that she was also quite strong for a girl owed her some respect among the boys, even when she reached her teenage years and her male classmates started considering her pretty.

Up to her 15th year, Trixi hadn’t been interested in politics very much. Her father, who had lost his job during the Great Depression, had turned from the Communists to the Nazis, more out of desperation than conviction, and Trixi had started to feel a bit fascinated by an ideology that idolized tall, blonde, blue-eyed people, just like her.

And yet, the thought of »Trixi the Amazone« had been a harmless daydream till the summer of 1933, her final year at the elementary school. By coincidence, the principal of a higher school had been present during the P.E. exams and had seen her perform – which had ended with him offering her a small scholarship. »In the new order«, he had told her, »it doesn’t matter where you come from, but who you are, and what you are able to accomplish!«

So, instead of starting at a factory, Trixi had attended a secondary school for the next four years, offering little to no resistance to the political and ideological indoctrination that followed. After all, she was tall, blonde, tough and good at sports, someone to be looked upon. Even her new classmates seemed to accept her new role in the hierarchy, and Trixi filled that role, questioning not very much of the vitriol poured into her ears and mind.

Her only minor crisis had been in 1937, when she had finished school. Her scholarship had ended, and her parents, though her father now was employed again, couldn’t afford sending her to University. However, Trixi didn’t want to become the devoted wife and mother, at least not yet. And again, the new order had offered her an alternative.

She had started as a secretary at the »Abwehr«, the German Military Intelligence Service. Here, she had done the work of an ordinary secretary, until one day, a superior had asked her whether she was interested in doing more than copying files. It had been Oberst von Bredow, a direct subordinate to Admiral Canaris, the chief of the Abwehr, and he had the idea of establishing a small group of female agents.

The training had been hard, but Trixi had prevailed, earning her the merits of her first real mission in a foreign country. She had been brought together with Romy, who was less a fighter, but an expert in radio technique, and they were sent to Vaduz, the capital of Liechtenstein. Liechtenstein, a country everyone, including most of the people there, would have expected to be occupied together with Austria in 1938. It had managed to stay neutral, partially due to its insignificance, partially because it was a useful link to Switzerland, just on the other side of the Rhine.

The neutrality was paid by a more than benevolent course towards Germany, and therefore, the German ambassador could easily have two agents visit him without any officials asking questions. At the embassy, Trixi and Romy were briefed about their target:

»She is hiding in Malbun, a small village in the West, close to the Austrian border! We have a house there, from which you can operate. However, it seems that the British have also sent a spy there. She’s working on her own, and we think that she is spying on our border. I want you to avoid any diplomatic difficulties, but if you manage to get rid of her, too, we would be pleased!«

So, she and Romy had travelled to Malbun, disguised as skiing tourists that had started to explore the area a few years ago. It had taken them just two days to find out the British spy, for she was loosely disguised as a journalist, giving an explanation why she had a camera with her.

Yesterday, they had grabbed the spy, and once they had taken care of their main target, they could either interrogate her, or take her to the Reich, too. Now, with a little bit of luck, Eva Heyden would accept her invitation, allowing them to finish their mission within the next 24 hours.

»If only Romy would move her ass here now!«

Of course, she could overpower Eva alone, but it would increase the risk of her screaming. Trixi went for the other window, and she oppressed a curse. There, on the so-called »main road«, she could see the burgundy red coat of Eva Heyden, and since there was little else she could do in Malbun, she guessed that she was heading towards their cottage.

The cottage actually belonged to Fiona, and by now, Trixi had not been able to make it look as if she was living here. Sure, Fiona hadn’t had English newspapers lying around, and her radio was hidden in a cupboard, but neither her nor Romy had been able to bring any of their belongings here.

Trixi, who still wore her trousers and sweater, decided to fake that she had just returned from outside, and that Romy would be back any minute. She checked her Luger and put it into the waistband of her trousers, one last time checking if her comrade was finally approaching.

She petrified when she looked through the window. There was Romy, and she was talking to another woman before she slowly slid down the hill. Trixi frowned. There was something that didn’t fit, and when the girl came closer, she understood: either, Romy had changed the way she moved, or this was someone else!

»Fuck!«

Trixi had no idea who this other girl was, but she was wearing Romy’s clothes, and that could only mean that her comrade was in trouble. In addition, it could also mean that Fiona had somehow managed to get free.

To her surprise, the girl in Romy’s clothes just slid along the cottage, but didn’t get too close. In Trixi’s head, this screamed »distraction!«, and she drew the gun when she heard a knock at the door.

»Hello, it’s me, Eva-Maria Beiden, from the cottage nearby! I thought I should follow your invitation, to some tea and chit-chat!«

So, the rabbit was stumbling into the foxhole when the Dachshunds were about to do so, too! Trixi was leaning behind the door. If only their mission had been to kill Eva! She was sure she would have been able to make her getaway after doing so. However, they needed her alive. So, she silently withdrew and then sneaked up the stairs, just as Eva knocked a second time.

***

Eva knocked a second time, feeling that she was making a fool out of herself. She had seen the other’s skis stick in the snow, and she was sure that someone was inside.

»Come on, I am just a poor Jewish refugee, looking for some distraction!«

At that moment, she heard a sound from behind. Before Eva could react, a hand clamped over her mouth, and when she mewed, she felt something cold press against her neck.

»Hold still, and no sound!«

Eva once again moaned when she heard the sound of approaching steps. Before she had fully realized what was going on, she was surrounded by a bunch of women, all looking rather puzzled than threatening.

»Is someone inside?«, the one holding the gun hissed.

»Mph!«

The hand was withdrawn from her mouth, and when Eva turned her head, she saw another woman, a redhead with green eyes. She still pointed at her with the gun, and she repeated her question.

»I-I d-don’t know!«, she stammered, and the redhead suddenly reached behind a flowerpot, producing a key.

»Well, there’s only one way to find out! After all, it’s me who pays the rent for this lovely house!«

She pushed the perplexed Eva towards her comrades; then, she opened the door and yanked it open, aiming inside with the gun. After a few seconds, she seemed convinced that the corridor was empty, and they all entered.

»I-if I a-am disturbing a-anything, I-«, Eva began, but the redhead stopped her.

»If you know what’s good for you, you stay with us!«

They entered the living room, again the redhead secured the room before she le the others enter. Then, she ordered Eva to sit down on the couch and ordered two of the others to position themselves at the door and beside the window. Then, she pointed at the last one, a small brunette wearing trousers.

»All right, Lilly, we have to check upstairs, too!«

***