“You have to go,” Daniel said.

She shook her head, tears still spilling, darkening the blouse of the too-large dress Helene had given her.

“Find Simone and Phillip. Stay with them. They’ll keep you safe,” he said.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“Yes. You are.”

Then he bolted down the stairs two at a time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

REBEKA

The Nazis were crawling all over the Kino like roaches. Rebeka had scrambled up into the rafters with the carillon bells after Daniel stormed off, watching through the slatted tower windows, praying the soldiers weren’t headed into the theater below.

They were.

Vainly, she tried to remember how long it had taken to climb up and down the tower’s steps, how hidden the stairwell was from the main sanctuary, how quickly Daniel might have escaped, and where he could have gone.

Tunnels. Phillip had said something about tunnels underneath the town square. She touched a hand to her cheek, to the faint warmth that spread there as she remembered their conversation earlier that morning while everyone slept. She’d found him in the side chapel, hands folded before him like he might have been in prayer, but his gaze listless, wandering. With a nod from him, she sat down, and they were both too weary to let nervousness keep them from talking. A relief. Rebeka’s mouth never seemed able to convey the too-big feelings in her heart and too-big thoughts in her brain, and Phillip, it seemed, was the same way.

Like her, he wanted to find the dawn in this endless night. He wanted to be a force for good. It was easy to believe in the dawn when they were surrounded by bright glass, unburnt candles, when their warm hands were so close. But it wouldn’t help her now, not when the cruel darkness lurked just under her dangling feet. Not when she had no idea where Daniel had gone, if he was safe, if he was plotting, even now, to do something monumentally stupid and careless—

Footsteps thudded closer and closer as someone climbed the tower stairs. Rebeka pulled her legs up onto the rafter. She should be completely concealed from below. If the skirt of her dress would stay tucked under her thighs, the pockets flush against her torso—