Iðunn's Apples

Agasaya

He gave me instructions from there to a small bar. I shed my vest and gave it to him, but he let me keep the gun.

"You never know," he said darkly. "Don't take the first train that you can from Alexanderplatz; wait a bit, walk around in crowded places, then take it."

Then, to my surprise, he swept me into a hug. It was a quick, tight embrace, but it had been long enough to rest my cheek against his chest and feel the compassion of another being. 

"Not just anyone could've survived this far," he told me, dipping his head closer to mine. "And I don't just mean when it comes to weapons and fighting. I mean the mind, too. You are incredibly strong, and don't ever forget it."

I smiled. "I wouldn't have been without you."

He returned my smile, almost timidly. "Go now, before you miss your train."

It scared me more than I dared admit, even to myself, to walk alone to the U-bahn station. It was only ten in the evening, but the sun had long since set and the German winter was brisk. By now, I should've realized that real monsters didn't need to hide in the dark, but that did not stop my archaic instincts. I walked with my hands buried deep in my pockets, my steps long and quick. 

The worst was the waiting. When I arrived at the station, there was still five minutes until the next train arrived. I sat down on a bench, but kept jumping up every now and then, just to pace back and forth a couple of times and then sitting down again. My eyes were constantly flitting here and there, and there didn't go a minute where I did not glance over my shoulder. 

Inside the train, with its lights and the two girls seated together at the opposite end, I felt a slight bit of relief. I allowed myself to relax back into my seat. 

The door opened, and in came a man who looked like he might have a couple of newborns waiting at home — both judging from his seeming age, sensible clothing and haircut and the bags underneath his eyes. His presence would've made me feel safer, simply because more people meant more security according to said instincts, had his gaze not landed on me and lingered. 

I had almost forgotten the sensation; a Varkolak hadn't tried to hide his identity for me in quite a while. It was unmistakeable, the feeling of looking into someone's eyes and having eternity staring back. 

A chill ran down my back. I averted my gaze, watching the city lights pass me by. I had my bag on my thighs, and I could feel the weight of the gun through it. Careful to be unnoticeable, I opened the zip and reached in, taking hold of the handle. Just that was enough to make me feel safer. 

He got off one station before Alexanderplatz, and I didn't meet any Varkolaks after that. Mohrenstrasse, while not a very big station, was in the center of the city. There were lights and there were people, and even though it wouldn't change anything if someone were following me, it still made a difference. 

The venue I arrived at was not as small as expected, but empty. The bar was placed at the very back with plenty of space between it and the booths by the windows. A pretty, blond waitress stood wiping off the bar. 

"English?" I requested, when she began saying something in German. 

"Oh, sorry. Can I help you?"

I smiled politely. "No, I'm waiting for someone."

"Let me know."

I sat with my bag on the seat next to me, hand clutching it protectively. Still, it felt safe here. The music was well-known and the lighting was soft and warm. My eyelids were growing heavy when the door opened, the bell above it ringing me to attention. Excited to see who I was meeting, I straightened in my chair.