They reached the last hill, and the town of Wewelsburg spread open before them like the pages of a fairy tale. White stone buildings and slate streets, picturesque cottages and a babbling brook, and guarding it all, the elegant but imposing spires of Wewelsburg Castle. A shiver ran through Phillip at the sight of it. If Rebeka was right, the SS could be gathering inside right now to summon all kinds of dark and deadly monsters to unleash. But in the champagne wash of late-afternoon sun, it couldn’t have looked more innocent.

They neared the quaint stone bridge that led into the walled town, but as soon as they started across the path, a strange and schmaltzy melody drifted out of the gates.

Die Fahne hoch, die Reihen fest geschlossen . . .

“Who’s singing?” Phillip asked, dread like a cobweb brushing the back of his neck.

Their hosts stopped just short of the bridge. Ilse glanced at Jürgen, who jerked his head to one side. “We’re going to take the tunnels,” Jürgen announced.

“What’s going on?” Phillip asked again, an edge now in his tone. The dread was sharper now—nails digging in.

Ilse fluttered her eyelashes as she made her way down the escarpment to the creek below the bridge, then led them toward a pair of ancient stone tunnels set into the town’s bedrock. “Just some idiots having drunken fun. It’s better to ignore them.”

“Stormtroopers,” Rebeka muttered. “Brownshirts. They like to patrol the streets, keep ‘order’ for the Reich.”

Phillip stopped in his tracks. “I thought you said your village was safe?”

Ilse twisted back to face him. “There are plenty of reasonable people in our village. But there are also many bored and restless soldiers stationed in the castle, ja? So when they find a bit of fun to have, it’s best to let them have it and stay out of their way.”

“Great strategy. Ignore them, and they’ll go away,” Phillip said. “Seems to be working wonderfully so far.”

Ilse stopped again, bristling. “You want me to go fight every single Nazi I see? I can help you more like this.”

Further behind him, Phillip heard Simone checking the chamber on her rifle. Phillip clenched his jaw as he followed along. At least he was here—he and Rebeka and Simone could defend themselves. Maybe they couldn’t fight every single Nazi, no, but they didn’t have to turn and run from them, either.

He locked eyes with Simone, and she gave him a silent nod.

They reached the runoff tunnels, and Mitzi climbed in first, shrouded suddenly in total darkness. Ilse and Jürgen followed. Phillip helped Rebeka up, then Simone took up the rear, casting glances behind her all the while.

“So what exactly are these stormtroopers?” Phillip asked. “What do they want?”