Red Rainbow by G Johanson (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

“We can’t go.”

“I know. I was kidding. I can smell a trap too. He had no family, no friends. Who’d put it in the paper? We can stake it out still, watch the watchers.”

“I maybe can. You’re right, this is a trap. This is why you can’t go out. They’re hunting for you.”

“Dangerous game, that one. They might catch me.”

Chapter 3

The Trap

It had been exceedingly hard for Hilaire to persuade Florence to venture out without her wig on. Her natural hair looked much better than the obvious fat wig that widened her head. Her grey hair was dark and had decent volume for her age, Florence finger waving her shoulder-length locks to add character. That was Hilaire’s condition for ‘allowing’ her out – not that she was listening to her edict to remain inside anyway, Hilaire convinced she was still going out when she was at work. Florence insisted they had to see who went to the funeral; Hilaire gave in when Florence told her she was going no matter what she said. That was why she allowed it, because it was happening anyway. This way she maintained some control over her. Florence put on Hilaire’s plain clothes without any fuss, which surprised her, though she did like to dress up. Or down, as was the case here. Florence could detect which buildings opposite the synagogue were empty, and Hilaire used telekinesis to force a locked door open. They would not watch from the street; they would mount their vigil as safely as possible.

Hilaire had not known what sort of building they were intruding into when they entered. The key feature was that it offered a good vantage point, Florence was adamant that there were no energy sources, no heartbeats inside, and there was a back entrance – which would also be their exit.

The exterior of the building had made it look like it could have been offices or a surgery inside. And maybe it was once. It was a home now, a good size one too. There was a nursery, two bedrooms for the older children. Florence rooted around and Hilaire reprimanded her.

“Hey, you are the one who broke in,” Florence pointed out. “I was going to watch from outside.”

She was technically right. “Let’s not leave any sign we were here.” And let’s hope they don’t come back soon. That was a bad thing to wish for. An affluent missing family in one of the Jewish districts. It didn’t have to mean that; there was nothing Hilaire had seen in the house so far to indicate faith of any kind.

“No chance of that. The door is fucked. You can’t repair that.”

Florence was right, annoyingly. Hilaire was able to manipulate items – and organic matter too – her power had grown from lifting pencils to being able to lift cars with the power of her mind. She could even damage the foundations of buildings, the full extent of her powers untested. They’d used it in the early days of the war to have the Nazis act as puppets, acts of mischief before they began taking it further, incorporating their weapons.

“They’ll know someone tried to get in. They’ll believe they were unsuccessful if we leave everything untouched.” Hilaire found what she was saying seemed credible said out loud – she managed to talk herself round.

“What do you think Daddy does?”

If you mean your Daddy, fries in hell. “I don’t know. Are you going to join me at the window?”

“I will. It’s not for hours yet.” Florence explored the house, bringing a bottle of wine to Hilaire that passed muster.

“Put it back. We’re not thieves.”

“Our need is greater than theirs.”

“How so?”

“We’re here and they’re not.”

Hilaire wrestled her mentally for it, letting her have it, though adding sternly, “One small glass, and wash up after.”

“Of course, of course. Are you joining me?”

“No,” Hilaire said in irritation. Hilaire maintained her post, querying as she did so if such a front and centre position was such a good spot. She thought of previous nosey neighbours, even the most devoted of curtain twitchers not maintaining such a relentless vigil. Anybody looking up would wonder what was so enthralling it had her stood statically there for hours, assuming they caught her several times. A little further along might have been better. Ah well, they were committed now. Florence did commit to it as it got closer to the event, though Hilaire fancied that the glass in her hand was probably from a second or third bottle. That was her personality all over, just taking what she wanted, never stopping at a sip...

A flower seller caught their eye down on the street below, his stall pulled along by a horse and cart to set up before his colleague took the horse away. He set up his stall a good 30ft from the entrance to the synagogue, far enough away not to appear too suspect while close enough to see who was coming and going. He seemed to be the only face that was sticking around, though they couldn’t see everyone below them on their side of the street.

The body was brought, also by horse and cart, well before the service. A number of the staff took it inside, some remaining inside, horse and cart departing after leaving another deposit. Hilaire had asked Florence for the exact circumstances of Deveral’s death the first night. Florence answered in riddles, of how some people shuffled off the mortal coil, some leapt, others were pushed. Upon pressing her, Florence told her that Deveral was perhaps the only person in history to achieve all three exits. He had been shuffling off so left his mark and then leapt with assistance. Was a willing victim still a victim? Technically yes, but the Nazis would have done worse to him – depending on what Florence did to him.

Hilaire chose not to fixate on the morality of what occurred there, preferring not to know the details.