𐌱𐍁𐍂𐍀 the witch

Love in a Glassdome - Pt. 3 Professor Sedemann's Dangerous Love

About part three:

4.5K words

Warnings: mentions of NAZISM, BROWNSHIRTS, Germany and Russia!

Mentions: dark atmosphere, horror, mysteries, pain, false hopes, thriller, cold, romance, deep longing, age gap, hunt, forbidden love

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[ @solarvig ]

𝟣𝟫𝟥𝟥/𝟢𝟥/𝟢𝟫

I received a really disturbing letter from my old friend Hans, and he definitely has a thing for not being too detailed. I must hit the road!

[next page]

Well, here I am! In front of the hotel, which for some reason has its lights off, I don't hear or see anyone, and it appears to be... Could it be abandoned?

•

Elie turned off the car and slowly got out. There wasn't a snowstorm or anything that would take away her fragile figure, which was taking calm and heavy steps with worry towards the door of the hotel. The stairs beneath her feet felt unreal and grotesquely crooked, as if they'd split in two, and she'd fall into some dark abyss, the hell itself. But the stairs neither split in two, nor were they crooked, it was her mind that was twisted with fears, but what could've happened here that the hotel looked so ugly empty? Her hand slightly reached out and gripped the handle, opening it. She kept her steps well-measured so that if there was any danger in the hotel, her presence to be kept unknown. But what was happening, it was so dark that she could barely see her surroundings?

- Hans?! Are you here? - but no one answered. - Hans? - her feet and mind took her to the reception, where on the counter lay a three armed candlestick as if it'd been knocked down in a serious hurry. The woman immediately grabbed it and lit it with a match from her right pocket, then looked around. The guest book was also in her line of sight, just like many other things that looked as untidy as ever. - Oh, Hans... - her slim hands picked up the book and opened it to the last written page as she began to read names. Since the tragic incident that happened about three weeks ago, almost no one has come except about eight men, but...

"William Sedemann - zimmer №6"

- Professor Sedemann? He's here?! - her gentle warm gaze turned upwards to see how on the key board, the key to room 6 was missing. - Professor?! - and no one answered again. She grabbed the candelabra and immediately ran to the second floor of the hotel, her heels could be heard everywhere like bullets fired from a rifle, and she herself no longer knew if it was her or if they were real gunshots. At the door of the 6th room, she stopped and knocked carefully, not wanting to disturb the professor. - Professor Sedemann? Are you there? - no one answered. - Professor?! Hans?!! - no one answered. - I'm storming inside! - yes, but there was no need for that because the door was already open as if someone else had it broken down. All she could do was just push it lightly and get in, but could she? The professor wasn't there, the man she didn't know what she felt for and yet her heart seemed to stop every time she just heard about him. The way her eyes had lit up just minutes ago when she saw his name in the book was enough of a pre-requisite for her nascent love for a man who was most likely in danger right now.

But the professor wasn't inside... Her heart seemed to stop waiting. It was as if it broke into pieces, knowing full well what happened at the hotel just days ago with Fritz. And somehow, everything was already starting to connect and at the same time become even more intertwined in unexpected knots of confusion, as if nothing would stop. Wasn't she just a young woman? Already looking for peace...

The green apples in her eyes began to collect dark rivers polluted by sadness, those ugly tears were swelling in her eyes, and she just stood broken looking at the state of his room. His suitcase was on the floor, open, as if it'd been robbed. His coat hanging on a chair, his personal belongings strewn around the room...

Eventually, she began to take slow steps towards the desk, her hands white with fear and her breathing quickened, falling to low levels of strength, her eyes were suffering the weight of the tears as she walked. The room smelled of him, and for the first time, she was so, so weak and powerless. Just the thought that William was dead would've devastated all her spiritual harmony, and her love felt like a convict labor for her soul.

And here she was... In front of the desk, behind the chair. Touching the shoulder of his coat, but there was no human shoulder there, and in front of the mirror, she stood with the lit candelabra in one hand and the other leaning on the chair. Her nostrils wanted to savor his scent, but they couldn't. He always smelled nice, reminded her of a forest...

He was middle-aged, slim and tall, oh he and his bad jokes... But his tone was always pleasant and careful, proper and polite except when he was serious. Her hand slid slowly up the lone coat and squeezed, letting her tears fall slowly down her pale with fear and terror cheeks. She didn't want or plan to fall in love with him, they met three weeks ago in this hotel, right before all the murders happened... But his interests attracted her, the attention with which he touched her, the smiles and warm eyes. And he was older than her, more educated, and right now seemed in danger, if not already dead.

But her thoughts were interrupted by a copious amount of wind storming inside the room from the open window. She came to her senses quickly and closed it with only taking three steps, and then she stood at the window and looked around. There was nothing outside but cold and snow. It was too quiet, too sad and too dangerous.

- I must find some clues. Something. He can't be dead. And where is Hans? - she wiped away her tears and turned back to look at the mess again. Elie took another three steps forward, returning to his desk and his coat with a little bit of strength in her mind. - I should examine the hotel and his room. And I should find them!

Her eyes locked on his coat, it felt warm, whether from her hand that had been placed there a minute ago or from him she couldn't tell, but she lifted it up from the chair and hugged it. She took a hint of the scent and wondered if she'd ever have the chance to smell it again or if it'd remain forever forgotten and locked in her nose and memories. At the same moment, she put her fingers in the pocket and pulled out some photo. It was a picture of him, oh how her heart melted... Just the sight of him being so close to her hand and her lips, he was so close?... But something was wrong because he was crossed out in a circle and in the left corner a question mark was put. Was he hunted down? Could someone be following him?

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around her neck, a heavy, strong hand, somehow strangely pleasant, and at the same time, suspicious warmth enveloped her. That was a man. She was deadly sure. The figure behind her was tall, but she couldn't see because her back was to the mirror. She could only guess whose dangerous hands she was in. And the hand slowly went up and met her red poisonous lips, and it covered them, restricting her from speaking as her mind was slowly dying and falling asleep. Would this be the end of her? To die hugging the warm coat of 𝗵𝗶𝘀?(?): Liebchen. - but... But this voice was familiar. - Be quieter. - that honey-sounding voice, she knew she was safe in his arms, she knew that this hand would never hurt her, the hand of her dear friend. This tall man, in his 50's with his graying hair, his beard and a muttonchop-style mustache, that friendly face, those sunny eyes, and his waistcoat... Hans, it was her friend Hans, the owner. She nodded slowly, realizing that they were most likely in danger, and it was of the utmost importance that they be quiet.

- Hans... - she whispered as the hand relaxed, releasing her mouth. The woman turned to face him then and gave him the expected smile, although her soul wasn't smiling at all. A hug in relief followed. - Why didn't you answer me when I called you from downstairs?

H: Eh, I was asleep, sorry. It's cold, you see. Shall we go down to the hall?

- Sounds like a good plan.

•

𝟣𝟫𝟥𝟥/𝟢𝟥/𝟢𝟫

I was enormously shocked to find Professor Sedemann's room in such a state. As if it'd been robbed or scoured in attempts for something to be found. Could he be dead? I found a photo of him in his coat pocket. He is someone's target. I'm sure of that.

[next page]

Later on, I found - I was found by Hans...

•

H: What can I offer you? Tea? Hot tea? - always so welcoming...

- You can offer me some answers.

H: Elie, you know we're going to talk about that, but first, let me offer you some tea.

- Good. Yes. Sorry... I'm a bit off.

H: That's okay, wait for me here. - he said before taking the candelabra with him, leaving the woman in the fireplace room right in front of the lit fireplace.

But she didn't like this silence and darkness. Every part of her at the moment was in need of him, of the professor, but he wasn't there. He was most likely dead, and she never got to taste his lips. She who had always been stuck there for seconds and wondered how they would taste on hers, how soft they would be...

But the fireplace and the fire in front of her only made her despair with the vain hopes of love and life, of war and life, because apparently, as a Bulgarian poet had idealized death and was sure that there was no way to have love during war, he was apparently right. Hristo Botev was his name.

But the warmth the fireplace provided felt distant and cold, lonely and woefully inadequate. Was it warmth if it wasn't his? Was it warmth if he wasn't here? If he wasn't here to talk to her, to look at her, and even though he knew there was no way love between them could happen, he was always marking her as his. (Just like Severus did...) But he wasn't here, and she was embraced by cold and silence, expecting even death. No one could be trusted anymore in those days, Mr. Hoffmann had proved this by betraying Hans in such a base manner. The warmth wasn't warmth here anymore now that the professor was gone. Warmth wouldn't be warmth anymore if the professor was already dead...

H: Here is your tea. - the tall, strong man placed the cup and the teapot on the table, then sat down in the armchair across from her and looked at her.

- Thank you, Hans. - she returned the smile, but it quickly faded away in the darkness.

H: You're going to stay, right?

- I intend to. Now, what's the problem? Your letter was disturbing.

H: Bad things are happening again, Engel.

- Where's professor Sedemann?

H: How do you know he's here?

- The guest book...

H: Well, that's exactly the problem. It seems the professor is being followed, hunted... - his eyes fell on the fireplace, which was the only light around them, along with the candles on the candlestick.

- Hunted? Who is hunting him?

H: I think the brownshirts are involved.

- What? The brownshirts?! But what do they want from him?

H: I have no idea, he won't tell. The day before, this note was slid under the door of the hotel. - he moved around slightly in his armchair and took out of his pants pocket a crumpled piece of paper on which was written just an exclamation mark. She just took it in her trembling hand and looked at it for a few seconds, not understanding but "anticipating" that it was something bad.

- What the hell could that exclamation mark mean??

H: A warning to be wary, I suppose. - at this rivulets of water again appeared in her eyes and moistened the grass hiding there. The professor was most likely somewhere already dead in the snow in this harsh winter, and her heart got frozen and easily breakable now.

- Oh... And... Where is the professor now?

H: He left two hours ago.

- Left?

H: Went to town.

- So he's alive?! I'm going to town! - she immediately started to get up from the sofa, and he stopped her unexpectedly.

H: Wait! Stay here! It's dangerous outside, dark, cold. Stay here at the hotel, I kept your room. I haven't given it to anyone.

- You're probably right... - with hopes crushed by the pain, she stood up, adjusted her skirt and tried to wipe away the tears that welled up in her eyes. "Disgusting life" she thought...

The car came to an abrupt halt as the professor hit the brake pedal furiously. As soon as the automobile had already stopped, he leaned his head on the steering wheel and forgot about the dangerous night around, about the cold that was stirring outside...

His mind was only the image of Elie and how she's at home miles away from here. He shouldn't have fallen in love with her. They met three weeks ago in this hotel, and now this hotel was the only thing that connected them in empty hopes of love and warmth.

But she must hardly think him attractive at all, this young woman must hardly have any interest in a man like him. A man like him... A man from England, 44 years old, with a very simple style, most often wearing relaxed, comfortable clothes, trench coats when being outside. And she was a beautiful young lady of 27, smartly dressed, a Londoner... Their love wasn't possible, and he knew that he wasn't the least bit worthy of her, to have her. And he wanted, oh goddamnit, he really wanted to have her.

Only for him. But once he looked into those green eyes with his brown ones, he couldn't see even a hint of attention in a more passionate and intimate way, no - she clearly wouldn't even want to talk to him. Was he annoying her?! They hadn't even spoken that much, they'd shared a few morning teas together and nothing more. Elie...

Only now, when he raised his head, did he see the silhouette of another car parked in front of the hotel. "Great," he thought, "Hans has a new guest. "... He was kind of ironic, but he knew his situation wasn't ironic or laughable at all, he could be killed at any moment. And maybe he even wanted that, forgetting about his entire field of study when his mind was occupied by only one thing - a woman.

When a woman possessed the mind of a man like the professor, everything and all his successes flashed like wild, cheerful birds through his eyes and ears, and the woman was the only thing left in there to live and smolder in hopes and dreams. In dreams to have her to kiss and hug her, to love her and to dedicate every new success to her. "Behind every successful man is a woman..." (Groucho Marx).

He picked up his narrow-brimmed fedora hat from the other seat and put it on his head, adjusted his small round glasses, and took a cigarette out of his cigarette holder case, along with his zippo lighter. Why not burn in love when it was all he'd left when his life was at stake? A cigarette... But sometimes cigarettes turn into an immeasurable amount of pain and slow death, especially when you lose yourself in distant questions.

- Fool. - he hissed and lit the cigarette that was waiting in his full of sweet poison mouth desperately, then he got out of the car, locked it, and headed for the door of the hotel, where he was going to find a special person, not knowing that this evening will change many things and maybe not for the better. The changes weren't always nice and the confessions weren't always as right as they were expected to be. Love wasn't always meant to be so quick, but damn, quick love was so riskyly sinful that it even tasted sweet on the tongue.

H: It's 21:37 (9:37 p.m.), why don't we get some sleep and get down to business tomorrow on finding clues about the professor?

- I would like some rest, yes.

H: Meine liebe Dame. - he also stood up and patted his clothes, because he was used to it.

- Hm?

H: I've never seen you react like this before. You're worried.

- Of course, I'm worried.

H: I once was married, but the winter here took my wife away from me. I know what love is and what love worry looks and sounds like. So pardon me for assuming, but do you love him? - she swallowed hard at that and turned her back on him, pulling out a white handkerchief from her skirt pocket and covering her lips with it. Of course, she loved him. Of course, she wanted him here with her right now, but telling Hans that would diminish her in his dark eyes because he was a more special man. Both were special men. While Hans had more old-fashioned worldviews, William was an atypical Brit with too many mysteries in his soul that she wanted to explore. All of them, even those he'd hide from her.

- I... Hans dear, I think your question is irrelevant. - she whispered.

H: I think not, Miss. - when she turned to face him again, there was a serpentine, hurt look that told the man he was right, but she didn't want to admit this forbidden love she felt for the professor to herself.

- Hans, I think your question is irrelevant. - Elie repeated herself, warning him that his question was too personal at this point.

H: Let me escort you upstairs.

- I can go upstairs myself, thank you. - the two of them headed out of the fireplace room and hall, right into the foyer, where at the same moment the professor entered with a cigarette in his mouth and smoke coming out of his nostrils. But Elie didn't see him at first.

As the professor entered, his ears reached the sound of approaching female heels clicking on the floor, and when he looked up, he saw the figure of the blonde woman whose heart he wanted. But he wasn't a thief to steal it, and he didn't want to kill it, as for he wasn't a murderer either.His mouth slowly relaxed, and took one last puff before his strong fingers grasped the cigarette and tossed it out the window into the snow. Hans was holding the only source of light around the three of them, and when the green-eyed angel saw the professor, she remained frozen and numb.

Why was she here when it was dangerous? Why was she here when his life was just prey for someone's hunger? He didn't want to put her in danger. No, he didn't want her here.

And maybe that's why they looked at each other like that for about a minute before he just went upstairs without even opening his mouth. Too many bad feelings had piled up his way for a few nights and her presence here only destroyed him more because if he was destined to die in the next few days, he didn't want her to watch him die. But would she even care if he died? Hardly...His wild coat trailed behind him as he took stressed steps up the stairs and she just watched him and without even thinking followed him, leaving Hans alone who decided not to even get involved because it'd get worse for him.

At this moment, she didn't care how dark it was or how loud her heels were, she didn't care about anything but this man, and this man didn't want to put her in danger. He didn't want her to die at the hands of some "Nazi pig" as he called them.

- Professor!

W: Go away. Go home! Away from here! - he "called out" in his oh-so-orange-sounding British accent that she adored as he was striding towards his hotel room. Her following him...

- No, professor.

W: Go!

- Professor! - she darted into his room as if she were a little kitten passing through a small gap and closed the door behind her, watching him take off his heavy from the snow and cold coat. - Why are you acting like this, professor? Why are you running away from me?

W: Don't call me that, I'm not your teacher. - he said and grabbed his suitcase, starting to gather whatever he could find around the "messy bum room".

- What are you doing?

W: Packing.

- Where are you going?

W: Somewhere far from here. Far from this hotel.

- No, why? Why.

W: Somewhere where these maniacs won't find me. It's too dangerous here for you too, go home.

- I refuse.

W: ... - his gaze scanned her, her eyes had become large emeralds glistening with tears. - Don't look at me with those eyes, young lady. You have no reason to be here after the murders. You were here about a week ago, too. You had a rifle pressed to your forehead by one of those hunting me! - at this point she didn't even want to know how he found out about it, she just didn't want to let him go and the tears in her eyes pooled in one place and stopped filling like rivers.

- Who's hunting you?

W: Deranged killers. Well... The Nazis. They seem to be obsessed with my study. I think you understand, I refused to work for them, more specifically...

- ...How you (it) can benefit the German revival?! - the gems in her eyes widened in fear as she realized the truth. The professor was being hunted for refusing to cooperate...

W: At least now I'm sure you understand. They won't stop sending relentless assassins until they have my dead body to pour into their hands and feed their ferocious egos.

- Is there an assassin sent after you right now?

W: There were three of them. One didn't seem to survive the cold, as I found him dead on the road. In his jacket pocket, I accidentally saw an emblem and took it. According to it, he seems to have been from the crew of the König Albert, but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong? For these three days, in which I received threatening letters and found out that I was being hunted for my head, I've gone crazy, Elie! - in fact, he wasn't sure if this emblem belonged to this man and for what reason it was in his pocket. - The other one got here but was mauled by a bear at night. Now, his corpse is lying to rot in the snow in the backyard. Hans and I found him yesterday morning. And the last third... I think you already know. But if they don't return, more will be sent. And more. And more. Until they kill me. That's why you should go home. It's dangerous here. - he continued to gather his personal belongings from his desk and from his bed, keeping his suitcase open in front of him there.

- Are you planning to run away? - why did she even ask when the answer was in front of her and in front of her eyes that collected the dust of an entire universe and space with sadness and pain from empty hopes of difficult loves? - Before you run away, you have to take care of the last one. Because you might not be able to leave at all.

W: "Take care"? I refuse to kill a human being.

- But he could be here at any moment.

W: I know, that's why I'm telling you to leave. It's dangerous, and I don't want you to get killed.- And where will you run away?

W: I have no idea. Back home, Canada, Russia? Wherever these "fanatics" won't find me. - "so far away?" she thought.

- These are really far.

W: That's the point. - she looked at him with lips dry with fear, terror, and anguish. Grief seemed to flow through her body and veins instead of warm blood, how could everything go wrong in four days and since when had this been happening that she was only now being made aware of this "secret" and how serious it really was? Because by all accounts it seemed it'd been kept a secret from her and if it hadn't been for Hans to write to her out of concern, she'd have never known and most likely wouldn't have known if the professor was dead.

The woman couldn't accept this fact. That she'd never see the professor again, and he'd be so far, so, so far away from her... She wouldn't smell his scent, see his eyes, hear his voice, or have a clear, direct look at his lips. At him. His face... None of this was supposed to be happening, and yet it was happening. They were mired in a mud of unanswered questions, or they were just too blind to see them.

She quickly walked over to him and his bed and closed his suitcase sitting on it in protest. She didn't even care anymore how childish all her words and actions seemed, here it was talking about love, and when there was love and something stood in its way, it shouldn't be given up on it, at least not that easily...

W: Don't act silly now. Stand up from the suitcase.

- I told you I refuse. If you want that, use force and knock me to the floor. - his eyes definitely locked on her now and gave her enough attention. She didn't want him to go, but why? And why the hell was she so angelically appealing, so enticing and ominously tempting?

W: Stand up.

- You don't want that. - he really didn't want it, but it was for their own good.

W: Stand up, Miss.

- Am I a "Miss" now? Where did that quietly desiring "Elie" run away from your mouth? - he couldn't help himself and took her small fragile head in his hands, smashing his lips against hers. Their first kiss and it was so rough... When she was begging him not to leave and he had her so seductive in front of him, looking up at him with her pretty rosy cheeks and green, teary eyes, in a long skirt and with lots of love pleas to him. - William. - she whispered against his wet lips that were kissing hungrily while her hands were bringing more intense sensations to both of their bodies. - Surrender to passion with me. Make love to me, and I'll make love to you. Before you leave...