Conspiracy of Blood and Smoke by Anne Blankman

wouldn’t make a sound.
    She lifted one foot, pushed it forward, then lifted the other. Slowly, slowly. Another step. Another.
    Through the tangle of the travelers’ bodies, she caught snatches of Daniel as he shifted position and stood in profile: the curve of his cheek and an unblinking dark eye; a fedora tipped low, shadowing his face, so what she could see best was the strong line of his jaw; and his feet, the heels lifted slightly off the ground, as though he had rocked forward onto his toes, ready to run at a second’s notice.
    She wove through the crowd, unable to look away from him.He turned, his gaze flashing over the people gathered on the platform. She knew the instant he saw her: Everything in his face changed, the narrow eyes widening, the clenched jaw loosening, lips parting as he mouthed her name.
    He lunged forward but she shook her head, and he stopped, nodding in silent comprehension. They must give no one a reason to look at them.
    All around them, other travelers chatted and shifted from one foot to the other, bored and tired and ready to leave. Gretchen moved between them, keeping her eyes trained on Daniel’s. He didn’t move. He just stared at her. As she got closer, she saw a spiderweb of brown lines surrounding his left eye. It looked as though he had been punched and the bruised blood vessels were almost healed.
    He moved toward her, pulling her close, wrapping his good arm around her shoulders. Through their clothes, she felt his heartbeat, a thundering rhythm. She breathed him in, those familiar scents of oranges and boy and warm skin, but he pulled back, cupping her chin in his good hand.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked.
    “I had to come. Herr Gerlich telegrammed that you were in trouble.”
    His eyes burned into hers. “You came all this way for me?”
    She hadn’t finished saying “Of course” before he bent down and kissed her. His lips were warm and insistent. She closed her eyes so there was only the welcome blackness and the heat of his mouth on hers.
    Finally they separated and gazed at each other. He almost smiled and pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Yourhair,” he murmured. “It’s a good disguise.” He seemed to catch himself and looked at the other passengers, but nobody paid them any attention. She and Daniel probably looked like an ordinary girl and her beau, reuniting after time apart. He turned back to her, his expression grave. Then he led her toward the rear of the platform, which was empty.
    “You must have sacrificed so much to find me,” he said. “I’m sorry to have brought you into danger. Do you know what’s been happening today around the city?”
    “Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s terrible about your colleagues going to jail.”
    He looked grim. “I can’t imagine that Hitler will ever let them out.”
    A shrill blast pierced the quiet. A train shot along the track, its headlamp sharpening from a fuzzy white orb to a small circle. She had to press her lips against Daniel’s ear to be heard as its brakes screamed, filling the cigarette- and soot-stained air.
    “Why are you still here? I thought you would have left Munich by now.”
    “I’ve been hiding out in a flophouse, working with the Post reporters to find out more about this murder I’ve been accused of.” He grimaced. “We haven’t gotten anywhere. And now they’ve been arrested. . . .” He trailed off, blinking hard.
    She gripped his hand tighter, wanting to distract him from his depressing thoughts. “Are you going to Berlin? To investigate this murder?”
    He touched her face, the faintest grazing of his fingertips along her jaw. “Yes. I don’t have a choice. My false papers were stolen. I still have my real ones, though. But if I try to leave undermy own name, as a wanted murderer . . .” He shook his head, unable to finish.
    Gretchen nodded. They’d had to flee Munich so quickly that they hadn’t had a chance to retrieve their own papers and