The Secret of Lions by Scott Blade

Author:Scott Blade
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: hitler, hitler fiction, coming of age love story, hitler art, nazi double agent, espionage international thriller, young adult 16 and up

Part Three

Beowulf

Chapter Five

The Gathering of Beasts

20 April 1936

58

Moths surrounded the windowpane. A dim light shone through. Outside the government building, people gathered. They waited for hours just to get a glimpse of Hitler. They were unaware that he stood on the east wing balcony. No one could see him. The SS guards had closed off that part of the building to onlookers. He was alone. He leaned against the railing and looked over the edge. It was a three-story drop to the ground. He could see cigarette butts littered behind the bushes in the courtyard below.

Hitler wore a new suit, a perfect tie, and a pair of gray trousers. With flawlessly combed hair, he was ready to join the festivities of his comrades. However, his mind was preoccupied and therefore unconcerned with the celebration of his birthday.

The country’s armed forces were mobilizing and gearing up for a new war. Germany had fortified its relationship with Mussolini. Hitler had already made many friends and enemies. There were politicians in his own party who were concerned with his leadership. There always had been, but the dissenters remained silent for fear of death. Hitler had defeated most of his political enemies. And they usually ended up dead.

Enormous thoughts weighed on his mind. The entire world watched him now. In order to establish Germany as the superior power he believed it was, he had to consider the actions of the rest of the world. He knew Great Britain would challenge him. He knew the U.S. and Russia would follow. Lost in his thoughts, he almost hadn’t noticed he was not alone.

Slowly, a figure moved silently and swiftly to the balcony Hitler leaned against. At first he did not notice me. It was a few moments before he reacted to my silent approach.

“Peter,” Hitler said as he gazed into the eyes of a young Willem Kessler. That former name was no more; now I was only Peter. As far as Hitler was concerned, Willem Kessler had died years ago with my mother.

“Yes, Poppa,” I answered. I stopped in my tracks.

“You will never be able to sneak up on me, and you know it. I can sense you. That is how you must learn to think. Remember that. Everyone could be trying to sneak up behind you at any given time. Never turn your back.”

“Yes, Poppa,” I answered. I was a mature 12-year-old at this point. My hair was groomed as perfectly as Hitler’s. His personal aides groomed me. They were constantly brushing my hair and telling me what to say and where to stand.

My green eyes glimmered from out of the shadows. Hitler smiled at me. The two of us had mostly forgotten the name Willem. Of course, the memory was more lost on me than on Hitler.

“Poppa, are you going to come inside for the rest of your birthday party?” I asked.

“I will. I am just thinking about Germany. It’s hard for your father to celebrate when there is so much cleansing to be done in the world.

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