Called to Order [The Order of Vampyres 1] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Lydia Michaels

  “It is the color we wear for weddings,” Gracie explained. “Today is a celebration, and blue was once the brightest color we Amish were permitted to wear.”

  Anna suffered a bizarre sensation of reality. This was her wedding day. She was marrying Adam. Her heart began to pound fast, and she found herself searching for a chair. “I’m getting married.”

  Gracie smiled peacefully. Her expression told Anna she was in her head. Sometimes Anna thought Gracie could make more sense of her thoughts than she could herself. It was as if the old adage about being too close to the trees to see the forest was correct and applied to exactly how clearly Gracie’s gift allowed her to see.

  The younger girl approached her slowly, still smiling serenely. She whispered, “It will be okay, Anna. You are simply overwhelmed, not frightened. Once you get dressed, your nerves will settle. Here, come, I will help you.”

  Abilene quietly left the room and Gracie assisted Anna in removing her chemise. Obediently, because thinking at this point was too much for her stomach and nerves, Anna stepped into the full cotton undergarments Gracie held out. She stood like a child, arms raised, as Grace gathered a pale-blue shift over her head, feeding her hands through the sleeves. The plain gown fell into place. It was a boxy covering with a clean-cut neckline and large billowy sleeves.

  Abilene returned, holding something in her hands and quietly waited as Gracie helped Anna into her apron. The material was so much more decadent than the coarser fabrics the other women typically wore. It was lighter than spiders’ webbing and beautifully stitched and shaped into something quite elegant. This would be her telling mark, the evidence that she was the bride. As the ties pulled toward her back and Gracie worked quietly knotting them into showy, perfect bows, Anna took a moment to admire the four buttons Abilene had lovingly sewn onto the band crossing her heart.

  Gracie walked back to Anna’s front and smiled, pulling the garment just so until she was completely satisfied with how it laid. As her hand swept gently down the front of the shimmering white, Gracie gasped and stepped back. Anna stopped admiring her four proud buttons and looked to the younger girl. “What is it, Grace?”

  “You’re…” she started with an odd expression on her face that Anna could not comprehend. “Your buttons are lovely.”

  Anna was no fool. She knew whatever Gracie had wanted to say, she did not. As lovely as her buttons were, they were not what had made Gracie gasp. “Thank you.”

  Before anything else on the subject could be said, Abilene stepped forward and placed a book in Anna’s hands. It looked like a Bible, but the words were written in something other than English. “This is the Bible we use. I know you do not understand the roots of German just yet, but share it with my son, and he will assist you in learning. When your children are born, it shall serve as a place to document their births.”

  She then turned and plucked a small strip of lace from the dresser. She unfolded a delicate bonnet and expertly placed it over Anna’s hair. Hands clasped together in happy satisfaction, she sighed. “Lovely. Grace, go fetch the mirror so Anna can always remember how beautiful she was on her wedding day.”

  “Mirror?” Anna had been on the farm quite some time by now and had yet to see her reflection in anything other than the glass of the windows. She had discovered that while the truck was still hidden away in the larger barn, she could check her appearance in the rear view mirrors there, but sometimes the day was just too busy to make it out that way by morning. And by the time it was afternoon, she lost interest in her reflection.

  “I thought the Amish were not allowed to have mirrors,” Anna stated.

  Abilene appeared confused. “What would give you that idea? Amish can have such things.”

  “I haven’t seen one since I arrived.”

  “Ah, well we have several, we just tuck them away. You see, they serve no purpose for our kind.”

  “You don’t have a reflection?” Anna asked, surprised she hadn’t already asked about such things to Adam. It was a common known wives’ tale that vampires had no reflection. She just assumed that when he said he liked garlic that none of those other silly rumors were true.

  “Do not worry, Anna, we have reflections,” Abilene chuckled as she gently patted her arm. “We just have a difficult time seeing them because of our eyes. Here, I’ll show you.”

  Gracie returned, carrying a long mirror. Abilene stood in front of it and although her form was reflected in the glass, a starburst of white light shined over the reflection of her face, making it impossible to fully see. “See, dear, for some reason our eyes reflect like light and blot out our face.”

  “So you never know what your face looks like?”

  “We know enough. It is of no consequence to us, just something that has always been so. If you notice our children’s dolls are made without faces as well. We believe only God can create a face, so why should we expect to see ourselves in a man-made mirror?”

  “Good point.” Anna caught her breath as Gracie turned the mirror in her direction. She looked…words failed her. Her hand slowly rose to a fine piece of hair that had somehow slipped from the bonnet and Gracie’s intricate braiding. Her breasts were fitted snugly behind each crossing panel of her apron, and her figure was undeniably female. Her hips flared beneath the gathered fabric, making her waist appear pinched and her curves full. Her bare feet fidgeted one over the other on the wide wood planks of the floor, her toes curling and hiding under themselves in humbled nakedness.

  In a whisper that was nearly a breath she said, “This cannot be me.” She noticed her earlobes, plain and unadorned, the holes where jewels usually hung adding to her discomfort. “They will know I’m an outsider.”

  “Of course they will,” Abilene comforted. “No other orders will be here. You are safe to be yourself today. We, along with every other member of our society, see you as a savior for one of our own and take great pride in the sacrifices you are committing to make for my son. You will be respected and embraced with nothing less than genuine affection and gratitude.”

  There was a gentle knock at the door, and Jonas stepped in. “Abilene, my love, it is time for you to greet the guests.”

  Abilene smiled. Her expression whenever Adam’s father was around was so purely loving it always took Anna’s breath away. “Of course, Jonas.” She dipped her head and obediently went to leave the room. Jonas caught her arm gently and whispered something into her ear. Abilene flushed a delicate shade of pink and, just after Jonas pressed a soft kiss into her neck, she left the room. Anna took a moment to hope that she and Adam would be equally as in love as his parents in another fifty or one hundred years.

  Gracie squeezed Anna’s hand and followed. Jonas looked into Anna’s eyes and gestured toward the chair against the wall as if asking permission to sit a moment. Anna nodded and sat herself on the edge of the bed, waiting for the man to say his piece.

  “My son asked me to speak with you. He would like to know if you are surely in love with Adam.”

  Anna smiled. “I am.”

  Jonas took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “Have you heard the saying that when a daughter marries, the parents gain a son, but when a son marries they give away a child?” Anna nodded, but said nothing. “I am afraid today I will lose two children.” He cleared his throat. “Annalise, I am grateful for your place in my home. You will always have a place among my family and under this roof as well as under the roof my son has seen built for you.”

  “Thank you, Jonas.”

  “Do not thank me yet, child. I have been put to two tasks today, one, to take you wherever you wish to go if you ask to leave. Do you wish to leave this place?”

  “No. I wish to marry Adam.”

  He nodded as if he approved of her choice. “I will do anything to help my children,” he stated as if he needed to be sure she understood this. She slowly tipped her head as if to say of course. “It is a difficult task, trying to show your children the right of things. Sometimes age does
not ensure wisdom. I have been requested to ask if you will visit with my son before the ceremony. I will not be far if I am needed, but you would be alone with him.”

  A frown knitted across her brow. “Of course I will meet with Adam—”

  “It is not Adam who has made the request. It is Cain.”

  “Cain is here?”

  “He is. He came to me this morning. He has promised me that if he can have a few uninterrupted moments with you, he will then hand himself over to the council and allow the bishop to determine his fate.”

  “The bishop? What will happen to Cain?”

  “I do not know. It is not my place to decide.”

  “Does Abilene know he’s here?”

  “My wife does not need to know. I ask that you not mention his presence either. I will do practically anything for my children, but I will hurt my wife for no one. Not even them.”

  “But if they sentence him to death, she will be hurt. You are leading him to a fate that could very well be death. He would be better to run.”

  “It would hurt my wife more to hear horrific stories of her son becoming an animal like his great uncle. We have never had another case of two males sharing a mate’s dreams. Perhaps they would choose to keep him under observation in hopes of another explanation. If they destroy him, they will never have those answers.”

  “I don’t want any part in Adam’s brother’s death.”

  “Does that mean you will not see him?”

  Anna thought for a moment. If she saw Cain, Adam would be angry. He would be furious with his father for arranging such a meeting. However, it could possibly be the only peaceful way to deliver Cain into the custody of the council…where he might die. Was it better to deny him and hope that he ran? Anna thought about Jonas’s uncle Isaiah. He had escaped execution and in turn, raped and murdered hordes of innocents. If Cain’s fate was to become the same monster his unanswered uncle became, then it would be the blood of innocents on Anna’s hands.

  “Where is Adam?” she finally asked.

  “He is with his sister and Silus. They will be here at dusk when the sun is less of a threat to Adam.”

  Anna looked out the window. The sun was in the westward sky, but it would still be at least an hour or so until dusk. “Where is Cain?”

  “He is in the next room.”

  Talk about pressure. Anna sighed. “Okay.” Before Jonas had time to reply, the knob clicked and the door opened. Cain’s form filled the frame. It was still jarring to see Cain who looked so much like Adam yet was so different. Anna understood how she had first gotten them confused, but that was a mistake she could never make again. Although their hair, height, eye color, and build were identical, she now saw differences in their appearances.

  Cain held himself a little more in the shadows. His eyes were bracketed with lines from scrutinizing life. His brows always hung cynically lower than his brother’s, and he did not have the laugh lines Adam had. But most different of all were his eyes. Where Adam’s were alive and observant, Cain’s were cold and severe. They cut from one direction to the next with acute accuracy and the sharpness of a knife’s blade. When they cut to her own eyes, her lungs filled with an icy breath despite of the heat.

  “Leave us, Father,” Cain said without taking his eyes from Anna.

  “Cain, you will not harm her—”

  “Never.” The terse word cut through the air like the hiss of a python.

  Jonas looked toward Anna, but she would not take her eyes from Cain. Before he left the room, he said, “Call if you need me, Annalise. I will be in the next room.” As the door clicked shut behind him, the air seemed to fill with some heavier element that was worthless to her hyperventilating lungs. She wanted to stand, to step away from the bed, but she feared if she did so, she would fall or worse, faint.

  Cain eyed her for a few moments before speaking again. It was as if he were measuring her sincerity in meeting with him. When he did speak, his voice was harsher than she would have expected from a man trying to make amends. “You will control your fear or find yourself thrown back on that bed and bonded before your groom even arrives.” Perhaps he wasn’t planning on making amends after all.

  Chapter 25

  Anna felt as if a hundred birds were flapping wildly in her chest. Cain gave a depreciative laugh, not cruel, but still mocking her in some way. Her fear of this man, so similar to Adam yet so different, was beyond her control. Her body reflexively went into shock in his presence. It was not a numbing shock like when a train crashes and you have no real comprehension of the damage, but that odd, melting-down part of shock when too much adrenaline makes your body quake and your finger tips feel so cold your teeth chatter.

  He growled, and in a streak of heat and movement, he was leaning over her, his face a mere inch from hers. “I said, control your fear.”

  “I…I can’t,” she stuttered. Her throat seemed made of china. It was impossible to swallow or relax the tight spaces enough to breathe in even a swallow of air.

  He snarled and turned. His wide shoulders dimmed the room as he stood in front of the window. He was not as loose and relaxed as he usually appeared. His muscles seemed braced for a battle. “What is it about you that intoxicates the very air of this space, something so sweet it almost wets my sinuses with each breath?” Anna kept him in her peripheral, but her gaze went to the basket of Adam’s items beside the bed. Tucked into the side, was the brown wooden hilt of his whittling knife. “I wonder if it is your blood that makes my senses drunk or if it is simply the fragrance of you.” She kept her spine as straight as possible and reached down to the basket blindly. Her fingers closed over the smooth rounded handle of the knife. Cain continued to speak as if he were talking himself through a complicated algorithm. “It reminds me of spring during those last days before summer when the air is punctuated with the heavy perfumes of gardens.” She moved the sharp pointed knife onto her lap and folded it in the pleats of her apron and gown. Her eyes returned fully to Cain’s back.

  He sighed and dropped his hands from the window frame. “Are you planning on stabbing me with that pricker, Annalise?”

  Something dark filled her, as if a heavy cloth had been thrown over the birds flapping in her chest. Everything inside of her stilled. Once she’d almost fallen down a flight of stairs as a child. She’d caught herself just before her body was propelled off the edge, yet her muscles tightened so painfully in anticipation of the blow that she had to mentally tell her heart to beat again. Cain had just given her that same feeling.

  “Lay back.”

  She scoffed at his words and said no, yet her body reclined onto the mattress. Her hand still fisted the knife, but due to her angle, she now held it at her hip. She tilted her chin in an attempt to watch Cain, but the angle was awkward and she could not seem to make herself sit up. She heard a footstep, and the birds returned.

  Cain stepped back into her field of vision, his hands casually in his pockets as he stared down at her through Adam’s silver eyes. A snap of breath puffed out is nose as if he found something comical, but his placid mouth was not amused enough to grin. “You see, Annalise, I have realized that when you are afraid, I have control. I can feel your blood pounding through your veins as if it were calling to me. Your heart pounds a tattoo loud enough to smother all the creaks of the house. For a man who never had much talent, I find it difficult to resist experimenting with this new gift.”

  “Please don’t hurt me,” Anna begged as water spilled from her eye and rolled beneath her neat, little bonnet. She refused to admit it was a tear driven out by emotion.

  Cain’s face never took on an expression, so when he reached for her, she flinched regardless of his composed features. Her eyes had somehow closed but opened again when he ran his thumb over the moist flesh next to her eye. “Do not cry for me, Annalise,” he whispered. She was terrified, yet her body found comfort in his touch. She told herself it was the familiarity of the hand. It was Adam’s hand. But those silver eyes, the
y were Cain’s, and they watched her with such shrewdness Anna was certain he knew the game she was playing in her head. He knew she was not feeling his comforting touch but his brother’s. The hand dropped to his side.

  Anna had always believed there were certain places on the body a person could tolerate being touched by a stranger, the shoulder, the top of the head, like when an adult tousles the hair of a child. It was as if those places were open ground. And then there were places that were private. Not necessarily the breasts or the apex of ones thighs, but those places somehow seemed knitted more tightly to nerves, like one’s earlobes or hips or ankles. When Cain reached for the knife in her hand, his cool fingers brushed such an unnamable place. It was informal, his touch, yet it triggered that sense of violation deep within Annalise.

  He removed the knife from her white-knuckled grip and held it between his large fingers. It was more a crude tool than a weapon, yet it was all Anna had at her disposal. Removing it from her hand was like stripping away a layer of flesh, tearing down a protective boundary.

  He scrutinized the knife and then returned his gaze to hers. She thought she saw something wounded behind those familiar silver irises, but it was gone before she could examine it. He held the blade where she could see it. “Did you plan on stabbing me, Annalise?”

  He reached for her hand again and replaced the knife. Her fingers did not feel like her own. He wrapped them around the wooden handle and held them in place. He lifted her weighted arm, his hand wrapped tightly around her own and the knife and placed the tip over his heart. The sharp, little blade pressed into his black shirt making a small canyon in the tightly knit fibers. “Here then, right into the heart. Go ahead, end it.”

  She understood how insufficient the small knife was. He was immortal. The damage she could do would be nothing more than a splinter upon the hand of a giant. He released her fingers, and the knife thumped to his lap in a soundless muffle. She stared up at him as his gaze penetrated hers. He slowly leaned forward until his face was a mere inch from hers. His hot breath punched her lips with warmth. He inhaled and shut his eyes as if savoring her scent. “Honeysuckle.”