Morina & the Switching Spell Ch. 18

Chapter 18: Morina is captured.

Warning: This chapter contains reluctant sex.

4 June 1944, Sunday. The day before D-Day.

The sun was out, and the airfield was finally dry enough for the planes to take off. The loud buzzing drone of plane engines filled the air as I walked towards the communications tent. I saw John in the distance, waiting outside the tent.

As I approached, his features became clearer. He was frowning.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked, pointing to something I was carrying.

I looked down and saw I was holding a large transmitter radio, the same radio that was found in Nigel Porter's tent.

"I'm going to call my father in Germany," I explained.

"So, it was you all along, Morina. It was you," he said pointing his finger at me.

"No, I just want to call my father," I explained.

"Wake up, Morina. You've been the one telling the Nazis about D-Day," he said.

"No, it wasn't me," I protested.

"Wake up, Morina. It's been you all along," he said, his voice no longer sounding as deep as usual.

"No, it's not true. It can't be," I demurred.

"Morina, wake up," he said in a woman's voice. His image faded away, but the voice was still there . . .

"Morina, wake up!"

I opened my eyes. There was Amanda standing over me, gently shaking my arm.

"You were having a dream. Are you okay?" she asked.

I sat up and hugged her waist.

"Oh Amanda, I'm glad it's you. That wasn't a dream, that was a nightmare," I said.

"You're awake now. The alarm went off 10 minutes ago. If we're going to get a shower, we have to go now.

"Okay, but let me go first," I said as I grabbed my uniform and left the tent wearing only my bra and panties.

My nightmare seemed so real that I was surprised when I got outside. Instead of being sunny, it was dark and drizzly. The wind had picked up and there was a chill in the morning air. I hurried to the showers hoping to warm up from the run and maybe to avoid any prying eyes from any number of the hundreds of men who might be up before reveille. I heard Amanda behind me, slipping in the mud and wet grass and cursing.

Rotating under the spray of cold water, some of my thoughts were coming into focus. Showers, even cold showers like this one seemed to stimulate thoughts and ideas. But with every line of thinking, my thoughts kept returning to the same conclusion, "I'm going to need a potion from Agatha."

"Hurry up in there!" Amanda called from the other side of the canvas curtain.

I turned off the spray and stepped out, still naked and dripping wet. Amanda slid past me and removed her clothes before turning the water back on.

I did my best to dry off, but in this light drizzle, there was little chance of getting completely dry. The fabric of my panties clung to my damp skin as I pulled them up my legs and they tore just below the waistband as I tugged them over my clammy hips.

Crap!

I was tired, miserable and in a bad mood. I had tossed and turned through most of the night, hardly sleeping at all. Then, when I did finally get to sleep, I had that terrible nightmare and overslept the alarm. Two days of cold and rainy weather only added to my foul mood . . . and now my torn panties.

I managed to get the bra and the rest of the uniform on by the time that Amanda emerged from the shower. A distant bugle sounded reveille, followed by a ragged chorus of other bugles as the airfield was officially waking up.

I helped Amanda towel off and get dressed before the sentries came by. It seemed like they checked our shower first, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of forbidden skin.

After Amanda was fully dressed, I wrapped her long, curly hair in a towel. My shoulder-length hair was easier to manage and usually dried quicker than hers. I felt a little guilty about my hair. When I left Massachusetts, it was already a bit longer than the regulation bob cut required for the WASPs, and it's gotten even longer since I've been here at Ashford. It will have to be cut when I rejoin the WASPs.

We sloshed our way back to the communications tent where we did our best to dry our hair. Amanda helped me pull mine back into a short pony tail, the wet tips soaking the back collar of my uniform shirt. Amanda's long curls were a more serious problem, and I helped her comb them out, unable to use magic because of Amanda's insistence that it causes her hair to frizz. Ribbons and bobby pins gathered her copper locks enough to wrap and tuck it under her uniform cap, mopping up the rivulets of water that dripped down from the incomplete drying with the wet towels.

The last step was to wipe and dry our muddy feet with our damp towels. It was my turn to wash the towels today, but I might have to beg off if I'm going to interrogate Nigel Porter this morning.

Fully dressed, I put on my raincoat and headed out to the headquarters tent for the administrative meeting.

Agatha was there ahead of me, and I sat in the seat she saved for me. She looked very excited and squirmed in her chair.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"You'll see," she said, smiling.

Colonel Drummond's hands trembled slightly as he read aloud from the paper he was holding.

"The invasion will take place on the beaches of Normandy. Once we land, the name of the mission will change from Operation Neptune to Operation Overlord," he announced.

He glanced up from the dispatch and looked around at the faces that were hanging onto to his every word.

"This is top secret information. Most of the troops who will soon be piling into the landing craft have no idea where they're heading. Allied command has taken great pains to keep this location secret. They've also let it leak to the Nazis that our target is Calais, to divert their attention away from the true location," the Colonel explained.

"Sir, the wind has picked up today. Are we sure the landing is still on?" Major Locke asked.

"No, we're not sure. General Eisenhower is holding off on his final decision whether or not to go ahead with the invasion depending upon the weather. We have a narrow window to work with. The full moon is tomorrow night, and we need an extremely low tide to avoid most of the mines and traps that Rommel and the Nazis have lined the beaches with," the Colonel explained.

"When will we know for certain whether the invasion is on or not?" Captain Hastings asked.

"As soon as Allied Command tells me, I'll let you know," Colonel Drummond responded.

After the meeting, Colonel Drummond pulled Agatha and me aside.

"Here's a pass to see Porter. You can leave after breakfast and after Miss Chanter gets a bite to eat," he said, handing me the paper.

An hour later, Agatha and I were on our way to Kingsnorth air base, just south of Ashford proper. Colonel Drummond's pass got us through the gates at Kingsnorth and an interview with the base commander, General Yeager.

"Why do you ladies want to see the prisoner?" the General asked.

"It's urgent, sir. There were a few details about his arrest that didn't add up. We think he may have an accomplice and with operations coming to a head, we feel it's important to get as much information out of him as we can," I explained.

"I don't see why that's necessary. We have our best officers already interrogating him," the General said gruffly.

"We know Nigel Porter, sir, and we think that gives us an advantage when it comes to getting information from him. Men don't feel as threatened by women and I may be able to loosen his tongue more if it's just me in there with him," I replied.

"Oh, very well, then. If Drummond thinks it's worth a try, I won't stand in the way. I'll have Captain Fielding accompany you to see the prisoner," he said, reluctantly.

"If you please sir, I'd like to interview him alone. He's more likely to talk to me if no one else is present," I explained.

"I'm sorry Miss . . . (he looked for my name on the pass he was holding) . . . Spellman, but that's out of the question. He is a dangerous man, and I cannot allow you to risk your life. If you want to speak to the prisoner, Captain Fielding will need to be there with you," the General insisted.

"Yes sir," was my only possible reply.

On the way to the stockade, I whispered to Agatha, "Do you think you can distract Captain Fielding for a few minutes?"

"I think that can be arranged," she said, giving me a wink. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and pulled the fabric side, exposing the top of her bra and boob.

The stockade was a low, flat, rectangular building constructed mostly of cement. Captain Fielding unlocked the outer gate of the stockade and then relocked it after we were all inside. There was a second iron gate on the other side of the antechamber and four prison cells could be seen beyond that.

Captain Fielding unlocked the door leading to the prison cells. I stood by the open door and nodded discretely to Agatha. Before Captain Fielding could lead us into the prisoner area, Agatha fell sideways onto the floor.

"Ow, my ankle," she said, holding her left leg.

"Are you alright?" Captain Fielding asked, turning to help Agatha.

I quickly slipped inside. The prisoner area consisted of a short corridor with two cells on either side. Nigel Porter was the only one in there and he was in the farthest cell on the right-hand side.

"I think I twisted my ankle," I heard Agatha say behind me.

I stood in front of Nigel's cell.

"Nigel, I need to talk with you," I whispered furtively.

"Morina Spellman, what are you doing here?" he answered glumly.

"Shh! Keep your voice down. I don't have much time. I'm here to help you," I explained.

"Help me?" he began.

"Shh!"

"Help me? How?" he whispered.

"I need to ask you a few questions," I whispered.

"Why should I trust you? You helped put me here."

"Yesterday you told me that we were on the same side. If that's true, you need to trust me now."

"What do you want to know?" he asked in a resigned whisper.

"Tell me what happened to you at Dieppe," I asked.

"Dieppe?" he asked aloud.

"Shh!"

"Dieppe? That was over two years ago. Whatever do you—" he began.

"Nigel, please, we don't have much time. What happened?" I asked.

"We were flying in escort formation under Lord Ayresdon's command when we encountered a sudden storm burst. Ayresdon insisted we fly through it, and I somehow got twisted around by the wind. I tried to rejoin the group, but it took so long to get around the storm that I was forced to head back because my fuel level dropped too low before I could rejoin the command. I had to glide into Dover airbase on an empty fuel tank as it was," he explained.

"What happened to Lord Ayresdon?" I asked.

"According to his report, the Luftwaffe was waiting for us on the other side of that storm. They decimated our squadron. Only Lord Aryesdon's heroics managed to save one plane, Lefftenant Christopher Jones, before returning to base," the Major continued.

"Where is Lieutenant Jones now? I'd like to speak with him," I asked.

"He died a few months later. Some sort of airway or lung problem I was told," he answered.

"About Lord Ayresdon, was he on the Albion Council at that time?" I asked.

"Yes, he had just replaced Lord Windham as the Warlock of Air," the Nigel explained.

"Just two more questions, Nigel," I whispered.

"I don't see how any of these questions are going to help you get me out of here. This was all so long ago. Why are you doing this, anyway?" he asked.

"Because I believe you're innocent. You told me you thought someone had broken into your tent two nights ago. I thought you were accusing me of stealing something, but maybe someone broke in to plant something," I explained.

"The radio!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly. There was a disturbance at the main gate that night. That might have been how whoever it was that planted the radio got in," I explained.

"But why do you believe I'm innocent?" he asked.

"Because you're not stupid, Nigel. If I were a spy, the last place I would hide a radio would be in my own tent. Besides, you're a warlock. If you were going to hide it in your tent, you would do it in plain sight, magically disguised as a table or foot locker," I said.

"Thank you. What else do you need to know?" he asked.

"Do you speak German?" I asked.

He hesitated. He had an anxious look on his face.

"Yes."

"What is the German name of the Nazi Warlock of Air?" I asked.

"Himmelsfürst," he answered.

I paused. I felt my lip tremble when I asked my last question.

"What does 'Eisenadler' mean?"

"Iron Eagle," he said.

A feeling of dread and wooziness suddenly overcame me. I staggered forward and grabbed the iron bars to Nigel's cell to keep from falling down.

"Miss Spellman, are you alright?" he asked.

"Thank you, Major," I mumbled quietly as I stumbled out of the room, holding onto the walls for support.

I opened the iron gate leading into the antechamber where Agatha was still on the floor. Captain Fielding was massaging her foot while getting an eyeful of Agatha's panties which could clearly be viewed from his angle of perspective. It helped that Agatha's skirt had risen up when she "fell."

Agatha was smiling as her eyes were drawn to Captain Fielding's crotch. I followed her gaze and saw the bulge in the front of his uniform.

"I'm ready to leave as soon as you are," I announced.

Agatha had a concerned look on her face when she saw me.

"Thank you, Captain, I think I can stand now," Agatha said, withdrawing her foot from his grasp.

"Let me help you up," he said, helping her to her feet.

Agatha faked a limp for her first few steps before resuming her normal gate, giving Captain Fielding credit for her rapid "recovery."

"Morina, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," Agatha whispered on the way outside.

"I'll be fine, just give me a few minutes," I replied.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked me on the way back to Ashford.

"I think so. Agatha, could you make a transmogrification potion for me by tomorrow?" I asked.

"Sure, but I'm going to need a hair or tissue sample to complete the potion," she explained.

"I know, but I won't have that until tomorrow and we can add it in at the last minute," I replied.

"Who do you have in mind?" she asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll know tomorrow for sure. We might need Samantha Caldwell in the next couple of days as well, depending upon how bad things get," I added.

"Morina, this sounds serious. What's going on?" she asked.

"Somebody impersonated me yesterday afternoon for almost two hours. I need to be sure about who it was. The whole D-Day operation may be at stake," I explained.

We got back to Ashford a little after noontime. When I walked into the communications tent, Amanda was waiting for me. She had an anxious look on her face.

"Thank goodness you're back. Allied Command radioed in. The Channel is a choppy mess. Operation Neptune has been postponed until Tuesday the 6^th. But even that looks doubtful with this wind," she informed me.

I was still feeling a little nauseous and light-headed. My whole world felt like it was upside down. The facts kept lining up, despite everything I wanted to believe, that I needed to believe. It must have shown on my face, because for the third time in less than an hour, I was asked the same question, this time by Amanda.

"Morina, are you alright?"

Both she and Agatha looked concerned.

"I'll be fine. I just need a few minutes to myself. Why don't you two go to lunch?" I suggested.

"I can stay here with you," Agatha volunteered.

"Thanks, Agatha, but I need to be alone with my thoughts right now. Hopefully, that will help settle my stomach and I'll be able to eat something when you get back," I replied.

They were gone for about 15 minutes when I heard John's voice outside the tent.

"May I come in?"

Another wave of nausea hit me.

"Come in," I said, meekly.

"How are you, Morina my dear?" John asked when he entered.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to ease the tension and untie the knot in my stomach.

"A little nauseous right now," I answered.

"I thought you looked a little tense. I think we all are, with all this uncertainty about the war and postponing the invasion landing," he replied casually.

I took a couple more deep breaths. I was tense about the war, but my stomach was in knots about being impersonated yesterday and the possibility that John was the impersonator. I didn't want to believe it. There must be another explanation. Maybe things weren't as they appeared, and my thinking was wrong. Perhaps there was some reasonable explanation I hadn't thought of.

"John, weather conditions have gotten worse since yesterday, not better. As the Warlock of Air, can't you do something about that?" I asked.

"I'm doing my best, Love, but the German warlock has control of the weather," he explained.

"I thought you said that sex would increase your magical abilities. Didn't our intimacy yesterday make you stronger?" I asked.

"It did a little, but don't forget, you fell asleep on me yesterday. I needed multiple orgasms to build up enough energy to overpower the Nazi Warlord of Air," he explained.

"Is that Himmelsfürst?" I asked.

There was the briefest flash of surprise in John's eyes, before he resumed his calm demeaner.

"Why, yes, how did you know?" he asked.

"It was a word I overheard when I was monitoring those German transmissions. That translation was a guess on my part," I explained.

"I see," he said calmly.

We sat in awkward silence in front of the radio for about five minutes after that. John took repeated glances at the code book during that time. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I know a way that will make you feel better and build up my powers at the same time," he announced.

"Oh, John, I'm not so sure I feel well enough for that right now," I replied tensely.

"Nonsense! It will calm you right down. Besides, it will boost my energy. You want to win the war, don't you?" he asked confidently.

"Well, . . . y-yes, of course," I replied nervously.

"It's settled, then. While we're waiting, why don't you take a dose of your contraception potion?" he suggested.

I hesitated. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn't think of any reasonable way of refusing. If John wasn't the mole, then the best thing I could do was to help him boost his magical powers. And if he was the mole, then I needed to play along for now until I could find a way to stop him.

I nodded in agreement and got up from my chair. I felt his eyes on me as I went to my footlocker and took out the potion, downing an ounce of the amber-pink liquid.

Ten minutes later, Amanda came back from lunch alone.

"Where's Agatha?" I asked.

"Oh, Colonel Drummond had some errands for her to run. I can take over from here," Amanda said, eyeing John by the radio.

"Thank you, Miss Chanter. I won't keep her too long," John said, smiling.

"T-Thanks Amanda," I said, trying to smile as bravely as I could, "Don't forget about our darts game."

"What was that all about?" John asked after we had left the tent.

"Oh, . . . she beat me in a game of darts when we were in London and she promised me a rematch as soon as Agatha can come back with a dart board," I replied.

"I see. I have a lunch ready for us at the cottage, but we can delay it if you aren't up for it," he said.

"Let's see how I feel when we get there," I replied tentatively.