But he set his concern aside when Berta wrapped her arms around his neck and began eating his face. This time there was more foreplay, and after sex, he suggested they skip the beer, to avoid advertising that the place was being used during the week.
Berta laughed. “Let them think it was Robert and I, or Reinholdt and I.” Macurdy looked surprised. “That’s how I learned what I have learned,” she said. “I came down here with Robert while Reinholdt was the foyer guard. The next night was Reini’s turn. That also allowed me to ask each of them the same questions, to see if they gave the same answers.”
She smirked. “Neither of them is the man you are, Kurt, in any respect. But when someone has a deep thirst and there is no beer, water will do. They told me why the cellar is forbidden us: Dynamite is stored in two of the rooms. In this wing! Enough to level the building and leave a hole in its place. They said it was brought here for the Voitar a year ago, but neither of them knows why.”
She fingered his nipple, then they kissed, and she began to fondle him. “Do not be jealous, dear Kurt. Next to you they are boys. You are the man. And I do not plan to come here again with them.” They were sitting on the sofa, and now she pushed him down, straddling him. “I learned something else, too. The Voitar have women from time to time.” She leaned over him, her hard-rippled breasts brushing his chest, and kissed him again.
“Women?” he said. “The Voitar?”
“That is more interesting than dynamite, is it not? There were three Jewesses last summer, or six if you believe Robert. They were brought here from a labor camp. Then, supposedly, the Voitar had them taken to the top of der Hexenkamm, where they were raped and sacrificed to the Devil at the full moon.”
She slid down onto Macurdy’s thighs and began kissing his chest, then paused.
“Two months later, or maybe only one, it was two German girls-Robert said two nuns-and a gypsy. And last Sunday night, they both told me, it was a German woman, tall and blond, a real aristocrat according to Reini, the sort of woman that might marry a general or a Reichsminister ” She grinned. “Maybe der Kronprinz is screwing her this minute, having his fun before the moon is full. Although cooped in this rock pile, I don’t know what phase the moon is in.” She chuckled, her voice husky. “Have you seen the Voitar’s ears? They remind me of goats, and you know what goats can do in their season.” She slid down further, and purred: “But I prefer a German man with meat on his bones. And between his legs!”
When they’d finished, they cleaned up and went back to their rooms. Before going to bed, Macurdy went to the window and parted the heavy curtains. The clouds were broken, scattered. Through the gaps he saw stars but no moonlight.
He knew the story about the explosives was true, or mostly true. The explosive wasn’t dynamite, but that was a detail. The story about the women might also be true, he supposed.
But sacrifices on the Witches’ Ridge? How would the guardsmen know that?
He decided it was time to snoop the south wing. Tomorrow night.
Then, on an impulse and despite the risk, he slipped into the corridor again, to the rec room, and looked at the calendar. It was past midnight, a new day so to speak, and below its date was the symbol not of the full moon, but of its exact opposite, the new moon.
Nonetheless it gave him chill bumps.
The next evening he slipped into the corridor and went to the sorcerers’ wing. On his own floor, the second. Third floor main was where classes were held, and he assumed that third floor south was where the Voitar were quartered. He’d never seen or heard of them being on any other floor. Nor was he prepared to snoop their living space. He was more interested in the other south-wing floors. If they lived on third, what use, if any, did they make of the first and second?