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The Apart-Hotel Dreisonnenhof had a private balcony for every room. Schuldig had gravitated to it immediately, even as the temperature dropped. Its only drawback, in Schuldig's eyes, was that, on a very clear day, you could just see the edge of the winter ski camp owned by Schloss Rosencreuz.
"I think we should burn it down," he said matter-of-factly, which was what he'd been saying since he was sixteen. "Not just the lodge. The whole school."
Crawford agreed in principle. He'd thought about it, thought about it in long and loving enough detail that he had, from time to time, told Schuldig exactly how it would burn if they'd done it. When he was twenty-two and Schuldig had seemed much, much younger, he'd mentally gamed out a few different approaches, all of which ended with days of torture, most of which ended with a bullet in Crawford's brain. In one they'd shot Schuldig in front of him first. Even that was better than the future where they'd let him live.
"You told me it'd work, someday."
"No," Crawford corrected. "I told you we'd destroy it someday. I never told you that you could burn it down."
"I didn't say me, I said we," Schuldig said archly, putting the binoculars down. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you out of the fun."
"The answer is still no."
Schuldig pouted. Crawford pretended to ignore it.
Coming to Europe always brought out the brat in Schuldig, and it only got worse the closer they got to the school. Too many old memories, Crawford supposed. Too many old nightmares. It got to Crawford, too, if he was being honest: he usually woke up at least once half in Schuldig's brain, sure there was a strange hand on his arm or an old instructor pushing him to his knees.
Usually Schuldig would pull back into his own mind, and slap Crawford hard if he had to to separate them.
They didn't talk about it afterward. There wasn't anything to say. Most of their old tormentors were dead now, though a few of the complete assholes they'd shared classes with had risen in the ranks to become instructors themselves. They'd embraced the bars of their cage. Crawford could forgive them the power games and the betrayals, the thousand petty abuses that Rosenkreuz encouraged. What he couldn't forgive was their lack of imagination. They were so cowed that another way of living hadn't even occurred to them.
You could hardly even call it living. Killing them might even be a mercy, if either he or Schuldig had any desire to dole out mercy.
The question was immaterial. Right now, a direct attack would kill both Crawford and Schuldig, just like in the old days.
"Could we set Dimitri on fire? They might think it was spontaneous combustion."
They wouldn't. "Maybe if we'd brought Nagi with us."
"We should have," Schuldig said.
"He has things he needs to do in Japan."
"He's going to let that girl distract him."
"Which of us has clairvoyance again?"
"I know what he's thinking," Schuldig snapped. "He's thinking about her."
"Things change," Crawford said, mildly. Schuldig would find out how much when they returned to Tokyo; there was no benefit in arguing with him before then. Crawford liked leaving him little surprises sometimes. It was nice to have a little bit of chaos around.
"Fine," Schuldig said "Who can I kill?"
"No one yet."
Schuldig sighed.
"It'll be worth the wait," Crawford promised, putting a hand on Schuldig's back. "More than worth the wait."
Crawford could hear Schuldig's smile. "Promises, promises."
To help maintain the illusion that they were an exclusive boarding school, not a prison and training facility for a global conspiracy trying to take over the world, Rosenkreuz conducted mutiple field trips. This one took the most promising students to Serfaus-Fiss-Ladis for a "sporting getwaway" that a more accurate observer would call a survival challenge. If a few students failed the challenge, no one usually noticed.
Schuldig had never been invited on one of these adventures: too impulsive, too difficult to control. Instead, he'd been permanently assigned to Crawford, probably to keep Crawford busy. That part, at least, had worked, though not in the way they'd intended.
Crawford had complained about the assignment loudly and often. The act had been convincing enough that it had inspired a simmering mistrust in Schuldig. "If you do it," Crawford had murmured to him in the mess hall line, "there's a note in my room telling them exactly what happened."
"You're bluffing," Schuldig had hissed. He'd been planning on snapping Crawford's neck.
Crawford had smiled at him, the smile they'd told him was off-puttingly bright and far too American, and walked forward to get the day's slop piled on to his tray. When their first field assignment had arrived, he'd had Schuldig on his knees twice before they'd left their hotel room, which improved both their attitudes immensely. Crawford lived; Schuldig thrived. The Elders assigned Farfarello to their nascent team a few months later. By the time Crawford had been sent to Japan to look for prospects, the Elders had officially commended him for bringing Schuldig into line. Schuldig had thought it was a tremendous joke, even before Crawford had trusted him with his long-term plans.
"So," Schuldig said. "Who is the target?"
"Not an individual target," Crawford said. "We're going to interrupt training a bit."
Schuldig brightened up. "Really? Do we get to set the lodge on fire?"
"Will you stop talking about setting things on fire?"
"If you let me set something on fire, I would," Schuldig said.
"We both know that's a lie."
Schuldig laughed in his head. He hadn't wanted to come back here, not that Crawford blamed him. Crawford hadn't wanted to either, not really. But it was necessary. The one consolation was that there was an end to these tasks. They'd be dead in a year, or it would be over. (Never over, not completely, but dealing with the remnants of Eszett and what might rise after its destruction was a far more manageable concern.) Schuldig believed him, but he'd been irritable and sulky since they landed in Austria. They'd been more or less free by the time they left Japan, able to do whatever their whims dictated. This country was a reminder of their chains.
Crawford had missed Schuldig laughing. He was getting soft.
"So what are we going to do?"
"We're going to look for some of their best and brightest."
Pleasure sparked in Schuldig's voice. "Do we kill them?"
"Some of them," Crawford said. "Some of them want out of here even more than we did. Those we can use. That's your job."
Schuldig put his head to one side, appraising. "Open them up and take a look?"
"We have to be careful about it. They still have a few psychics around powerful enough to notice you."
"If you tell me we have to fucking ski in the wilderness, I'm going to break your neck."
"No," Crawford said. "You're powerful enough we can do most of it from the lodge." He smirked. "Congratulations."
Schuldig turned his attention to the sky. It was a bit overcast, but didn't at all promise the chaos Crawford knew was coming. "It's going to be a hell of a storm if they're not just going to throw the kids out in it for the challenge."
Crawford nodded.
"So where are we during this?"
"We're going to stay here," Crawford said. "We might have to take a few walks or ski on the bunny slopes, but we'll call less attention if we keep quiet and behave."
"All right," Schuldig said, unconvinced. "I don't like being this close to them."
"I don't either," Crawford said. He was uncomfortably reminded of the way feeder mice would run right in front of the boa constrictor, for reasons only their feeble mice brains could understand.
"If they find us, can we burn the school down then?"
"Maybe." They were far more likely to die if they were detected. Crawford looked over at Schuldig, who was currently dressed in the loudest, puffiest ski jacket he'd been able to find, with a hot pink hat crammed over his hair and tinted goggles hiding his eyes. Crawford had suggested dying it, which would have given them a slightly larger margin of safety, but he'd known even before the words had left his mouth it was a lost cause. In Rosenkreuz they'd suggested Schuldig dye his hair Ayran blond more than once. Once they'd realized how vain he was about his natural hair color, they'd shaved his head whenever they deemed he needed punishment. Crawford knew better than to fight over it now. "Let's get under cover. You've paraded around enough for one day."
"It's nice out here," Schuldig said. "I'm irritating people just by standing around."
Crawford pushed his glasses up. He'd changed the style slightly for the trip, but Schuldig's skills meant that being a dark-haired Westerner in Austria was usually an adequate disguise, especially if he goosed his accent to be neither Germanic nor American. "We don't have anything to do until morning," Crawford said. "I could probably keep you busy."
"Let's get inside, then," Schuldig said, his voice warming at the thought. Crawford didn't need powers to see what was in Schuldig's mind. Not that he had any objections. They weren't going to be able to move until Rosenkreuz started sending their children out; might as well keep busy.
The storm hit just after midnight. Neither of them noticed.
In the morning, the hail and wind had died down, but the snow was still falling fast and hard, and more "unstable weather" was expected by lunch. The resort had informed everyone that it wasn't currently safe for outdoor recreation, but that the spa and sauna would be open extra hours for everyone's relaxation. Neither Crawford nor Schuldig had slept well, but they'd kept each other distracted through the bouts of insomnia.
We're really here to kill the best and the brightest? Schuldig asked, sprawled naked over the bed and clearly hoping they could get another round in before breakfast. Crawford didn't think he could get it up again: he was sometimes forcibly reminded that Schuldig was still some years younger.
Kill a few, persuade a few that we're a better option. Most of them we'll leave alone.
Mercy, Crawford? Doesn't seem like you.
It's not mercy. Some of them have allies back in Rosenkreuz. If we hurt the people they care about, they'll become problems later. Better to leave it alone.
We could just kill them all.
We can't.
Where'd all your ambition go?
My ambition is to live. That's what it's always been. "We need to get breakfast," he said.
Schuldig groaned, exaggeratedly. "Already?"
"I'm hungry," Crawford said, walking over to his suitcase and finding his clean underwear.
"So am I," Schuldig grumbled.
Crawford was halfway through his mushroom and leek omelette when the power blinked out. He and Schuldig expressed mild surprise and kept eating.
Did you know this was happening?
Sixty percent chance. Rosenkreuz's power has just gone out as well. Electricity wasn't particularly important to them; they had a coal-fired furnace and a freestanding woodstove. It wouldn't have much impact on the outcome. Their own resort had a generator and the sauna was wood-heated, so they'd be stable for a while yet, though he was glad he'd come down in time for full breakfast service. We can go back to bed, if you'd like.
Let me taste this room a little first. More people here worried about the storm than you might think. They think the staff might be lying to them.
Crawford rolled his eyes and kept eating.
Their stupidity is my gain, Schuldig said, pleasure starting to pool in his mind. There's a girl in the corner about to have a panic attack.
"I think there's enough light in the room to read," Crawford said, pushing his chair back. "I'll meet you there."
Schuldig came back to the room blissed out and turned on, and he let Crawford fuck him, neither of them speaking, grateful for a few minutes of silence. Schuldig pulled into himself, leaving Crawford to read his reactions rather than his mind. There wasn't much else, just the silence of the snow outside, the whir of a generator somewhere in the far distance.
How long do we have? Schuldig asked later, as they dozed in bed.
Not sure. That's up to them, not us. There was no risk for a while, so he could save his strength and sight. We should be able to hit the sauna, if you want. That's wood-fired.
Not now. Schuldig stretched. I might as well enjoy what I've got, right?
Careful. Emotion at Rosenkreuz was punished. Even outside the walls, it meant vulnerability.
You're warm. It's not sentimental.
If you say so. They were too close to the school to be thinking like this, even teasingly.
He put his hand in Schuldig's hair and tightened his fist, pulling Schuldig's face closer to his. It was just animal comfort, he told himself. Nothing more. Schuldig had always been volatile; it was important to keep him calm, keep him steady. Do you want me to tell you who you're going to get to kill?
Yes, you fucking tease.
Crawford could feel Schuldig's smile as they kissed.
Dimitri Agapov was tired of babysitting. Forty-five hours without electricity had pushed the patience of both students and instructors to their limit. They were supposed to kill one another out on the slopes, not here in the lodge. He'd trained them better than that. Herr Marcus had given several lectures that emphasized the value of discretion, but they still hadn't gotten the hint. Frau Zhang had reported that three of the students were now trying to decide how best to hide a body; I'll let you guess which ones, she'd told him. Telepaths were such know-it-alls.
Fortunately, the worst of the storm had passed. The sky was blue, the air was crisp, and the students who were alive and conscious had finally left the lodge. The seers had promised that that infuriating little kiss-ass Charles Lynd wouldn't make it to the end of the week, and Dimitri was counting on it. As if his personality wasn't odious enough, he clung to Frau Rose's side like a limpet.
Frau Rose wasn't chaperoning this little trip, though. Even if she'd thought the little asshole was worth protecting, she was in no position to change his fate.
Dimitri sipped his coffee and wondered who else would make it through. Puett would be fine. Brymer certainly hadn't made any friends in the lodge; he was too mouthy, and the stress had made it worse. He reminded Dimitri a little of Schudig, back from when he was a student, and they all knew how he'd turned out. Schwarz had made a mess of their Japanese assignment, and no one had been able to catch up to them since. Dimitri was half-tempted to ask for some leave to go after them himself. He knew some people thought that teaching had made him soft, but trying to stay on top of the little shits kept you sharp, and he knew things about Schuldig and Crawford that the others didn't. They hadn't been as careful as they thought they'd been, in the early days of their partnership. Dimitri remembered it all.
Eszett should never have sent Sylvia Lin; she'd had a crush on Crawford since almost their first meeting. That kind of attachment led to sloppiness. Crawford certainly wouldn't have been above using her emotions against her. The only emotion Dimitri had felt toward any of them was irritation. Two unstable psychopaths, a child, and the arrogant deviant who thought he was unstoppable. The fact that no one had yet brought them to heel was embarrassing.
Is it?
His back stiffened, but he remained calm. Schuldig. He had to be physically close to be in Dimitri's mind. Within killing distance, certainly. Dimitri felt electricity run under his skin, his power getting ready to activate.
Crawford told me I can't kill you. Too bad, really. Schuldig's presence was a physical sensation in his brain, somewhere between a wave of water and an itch under his skin. But I wanted you to know that we're here. And I get to watch you die.
There was a protocol for this, of course, and Dimitri wasn't arrogant enough to think he should be taking action on his own. Spencer was in the kitchen, he knew—
You're not getting that much time.
"Herr Agapov," said a voice, too close to his ear.
"Lynd," he said, stepping back from the young man who had appeared at his elbow. "You're supposed to be out with the others."
Lynd was fair-haired, the Aryan blond that Rosenkreuz so prized, and he had a blandly pleasant face at first glance. But there had always been something arrogant in his smile. Not for the first time, Dimitri wanted to slap it off his face. "I decided I'd rather be here," Lynd said. "I want to see what happens."
Dimitri drew back his free hand; Lynd certainly deserved a slap for that.
There was a tingle in his fingers. Lynd tipped his head to one side, and the smile grew.
"What have you—"
"Are you all right, Herr Agapov?" Lynd's voice was gentle, a mockery of caring. "Oh, no—"
Dimitri's mug fell uselessly from his fingers.
Shouldn't have eaten the shellfish, Dimitri. Saxitoxin, nasty stuff. Rosenkreuz will know it was contaminated, but they won't be able to pin down when it happened or who was responsible. Who knows, maybe some fisherman just wanted to make a quick buck. You've never been much on safety protocols. Crawford said I couldn't kill you. But then I found Lynd here. He's so promising, don't you agree? A real live one. Takes initiative. Just as ruthless as Eszett's always wanted.
He'll die too, Dimitri said, as his head swam.
That's what Rosenkreuz will think. Crawford sends his love, by the way. Remember the time you called us all a pack of inverts dying to suck the Elders' cocks? I never cared about the names, but even I got tired of your stupid little games. You didn't like Lynd because he reminded you of yourself, but you were a worse kiss-ass than he ever was.
"I should get you some medical help," Lynd said. Dimitri's vision had dimmed but he could still hear the bastard's smile. "But...well, Herr Agapov. You always thought I was so...dependent on my instructors. Perhaps I sbould choose independence. What do you think?"
He almost got caught, Schuldig said between Dimitri's ears. But we've helped him with that. You wouldn't believe the things he wanted to do to your corpse. You should thank us! You'll be sent to the crematoria with your body intact.
There was still current in his body, he could feel it pulse. If he could just—
Schuldig's power held him still while Lynd hit him just behind the left temple. Dimitri's vision swam, and he dropped down to his knees. Now, now, don't get any ideas. You're here to help these children thrive, aren't you? And little Lynd's going to grow up to be a fine warrior one day, thanks to this. He'll do you proud.
Spencer found Dimitri half an hour later, on the floor where where Lynd had left him. By then, Dimitri couldn't tell anyone what had happened at all.