by Leanna Ellis
He glanced heavenward and prayed for wisdom, for guidance, for help. Then a verse came to him from one of the parables in the Book of Matthew. For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost. How think ye? If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?
Many in their district might say, according to that verse, the Great Shepherd, and not Levi, should rescue Hannah. But if one of Daniel Schmidt’s cows or sheep wandered off, would Levi wait and be patient for its return? Or would he go after it? Would he suffer snows and wind and rain in search of the lost one? Would he take that risk?
Fists tightening with the fear that each moment was precious and time was waning, he quickened his pace until he was running in the direction Hannah had gone. He ripped through the forest, shoving limbs aside, breaking branches that tore at his face and clothing. He ran until his lungs burned and still he kept on until he broke through a fog bank and stumbled into a clearing.
Moonlight poured down into the opening, which was surrounded by tall hickories and pines along with scrubby bushes. It was a wide space, pockmarked by fallen trees and the remains of a brick fireplace, which once had warmed the home of a settler. Nature had begun reclaiming the space once cleared. Seedlings and saplings sprang up from what was once a hard-packed floor, and weeds sprouted from the broken mortar of a chimney, proof of what became of things that went untended.
But the field was empty. No one was here. Not Jacob. Not Hannah.
Had they been there? Was he too late?
Desperation inched upward from heart to throat, and he searched the area, finding footprints pressed into the soft earth around a fallen log. But were they Hannah’s? Jacob’s? Levi wasn’t sure. He searched the boundaries of the clearing for more broken branches or limbs, but he found no evidence that they had been here.
A crunching noise startled him and he whirled around, hoping it was Hannah, fearing it might be Jacob. But he saw nothing—nothing at all but the swirling vestiges of mist and fog.
Swollen clouds rolled across the moon. A blustery cold wind stirred up dead leaves, lifting them off the ground momentarily as if they might take flight but then catapulting them back down. The wind banished the fog and the temperature dropped considerably. Levi listened hard for a hint that Jacob might be near. Or Hannah. The voices in his head that had assaulted him earlier were no longer taunting and teasing him. As the wind died, the leaves settled once again. He searched the shadows along the edges, but the clearing was still and quiet, except for the clapping of his heartbeat.
He sniffed the air as he’d seen Jacob do. What had he meant by “reinforcements”? What reinforcements? Levi had brought no one. Maybe he should have.
Levi made a wide turn and backed toward the forest where he had come from. What now? Where should he go? Where would Jacob take her? Or where would she hide?
Then something cold and wet hit his cheek, and before he could react the sky opened and freezing rain poured down, stabbing at Levi. The sleet slanted downward at a hard angle and struck his exposed skin like sharp needles. With head tucked downward, he retraced his steps through the forest, hearing the clicking of the frozen rain against the leaves, and returned to the mill, where he scooped up his hat, but it did little to protect him and made him realize how little he was doing to protect Hannah.
By the time he reached the Schmidt farm, every post and shingle glistened with a light coating of ice. He felt his heart’s full exposure more than his skin’s. Heading straight for the back door, he pounded on it, his anxiety growing with each jarring sensation that rattled him as much as the door on its frame. Hannah’s name burst out of him and he prayed she was home, prayed she was safe. “Hannah!”
The door finally opened, and a sleepy if not startled Daniel Schmidt stood there in his nightshirt and pants with his suspenders dangling at his sides. “Levi? What has happened? Is the barn ablaze?”
“Where is Hannah?”
From behind her husband, Marta Schmidt peered at Levi. “Why? What do you mean?”
“Hannah was with me…and then we were separated…and I need to find her. To talk with her. To make sure she is safe. Is she here?”
Alarm creased the older woman’s brow. She turned toward the stairs and a pair of bare feet retreated. “Katie? Is Hannah upstairs with you?”
“She left a while ago.”
“Something may have happened to her.” Frantic now, Levi gripped the doorframe hard, the wood digging into his flesh, as his mind raced. What was he to do now? Where should he go? Where would Jacob take her?
A hand settled on his shoulder. Daniel Schmidt looked up at him, his face calmer than Levi felt. “She will come back.”
Concern twisted Levi’s insides. “We have to—”
“She is old enough to be of her own mind, Levi. It is her running around time. But I have faith—”
“But—”
Daniel raised a hand to stop Levi from saying anything else. “I know where your interest lies. If you had a disagreement with Hannah, she will come around. You will be able to discuss it in the morning after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”
“You don’t understand.”
“We must trust in the Lord.”
But it was more than running around and doing things forbidden by the Ordnung, like smoking and drinking, and riding in cars. The danger Hannah faced was far worse than her father could imagine. But how could Levi explain? “Daniel—”
“I know how you feel, Levi, and I have been praying my stubborn daughter will have a change of heart. But first, she must test her faith.” He patted Levi’s shoulder. “We must be patient.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Most young folks think we old folks don’t understand what goes on, but we were young too.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. “We faced temptations once. And you and I both know Hannah is a wise young woman. She will make the right decision in the end.”
But would Jacob? It was a chance Levi was not willing to take. “Daniel—”
“And,” the older man interrupted him again, “in the mean time, we must sleep. Ja?”
As Daniel turned back into his house and left Levi on the porch with the tapping of sleet all around, Levi set his jaw. He would find her. He had no choice.
Chapter Fifty-seven
The freezing rain drove most sane people inside. Roc had never been accused of that particular frame of mind but tonight he was content (if you could call it that) to lie on Mike’s sofa and punch the remote control, not really paying attention to the images changing on the outdated television. The jumpy, incomplete conversations would drive most people insane. But not Roc. The random discussions blocked out the voices, the cries, the screams inside his head. Some only imagined. Some not.
It had been way past midnight when Mike and Roc left the police station in Philadelphia, braved the slick streets, and instead of driving back to Lancaster County in the sleet, Roc had agreed to bunk at Mike’s. But sleep was proving as difficult as catching Akiva. He kept remembering what Father Roberto had said, how hard it was to kill a vampire.
It seemed damned near impossible.
Maybe he should pay Father Roberto another call. But what would that accomplish? Then again, maybe the priest knew something about the latest death or even the coroner. Why would a coroner lie? Or maybe Roc was beginning to see bogey men and sinister motives behind every dark eye and around every shady corner. That ability had once served him well as a detective—trust no one. Suspect everyone—but now, Roc was beginning to think it was making him jumpy and irrational. Really, he was believing in vampires! If that wasn’t proof, he didn’t know what was.
A pizza box lay open on the coffee table, the remaining slices now cold and the tomato sauce congealed. Just lookin
g at it made his belly ache, and he remembered the fine, home-cooked breakfast at the Schmidt’s, which only made him long for a time when life had seemed…calm and easy. When it was just Emma and he.
Not that she’d been much of a cook, but at least she’d forced him to eat healthier fare, buying packaged salads, granola bars, and fruit. He rarely thought of their days or nights together because it stirred things inside him that threatened to destroy him. Sleep had deserted him from the moment she died, and he’d turned to the bottle as much for the blessed unconsciousness as its temporary numbing effect. But now it had been weeks since he’d had a drink. And sleep still refused to befriend him.
For when it came, it wasn’t gracious or kind. It only took a few minutes before the images assaulted him. The situations varied with him running, racing over and through and around obstacles, trying to reach Emma, trying to save her. Or he was holding her hand, trying to pull her up from dangling over the side of a cliff. Every time, he was too late or her fingers slipped from his grasp.
Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he tried to smother the images, but they flashed across his mind like those on the television. Roc hurled the remote control across the room, and it bounced off the wall to the carpeted floor. The television screen remained on and a commercial for a floor cleaner morphed into a film about a glittery vampire that shimmered in the light like a rock star. Roc glared at the screen for a moment, then hit the floor with his bare feet. In two strides, he closed the gap and punched the button on the television. It went dark. Silence pulsed through the apartment until Mike’s resonating snores rumbled from his bedroom.
Stalking toward the window, Roc pulled back the plastic blinds and stared out at the iced parking lot. Through the streetlights’ glare, the sleet appeared silvery as it slashed downward and covered cars and sidewalks, rooftops and streets.
The jangle of his cell phone startled him. He stared at the phone beside the pizza box where he’d dropped his change and keys, but he didn’t recognize the local number. Who would be calling at four in the morning?
He punched the button. “This is Roc.”
There was a clearing of a throat.
“Who is it?” He didn’t have time for nonsense. Or patience.
Again the throat clearing. “Um, Roc Girouard, this is Levi Fisher.”
A hard knot formed in his belly. “What’s up, Levi?”
“What we discussed the other night…in the field?”
“Yeah, yeah. The barn. The sheep.” An Amish man with a secret. Roc’s pulse began to vibrate.
“I am thinking I need your help.”
Chapter Fifty-eight
She is lovely.” Camille’s thick New Orleans accent had a melodious tenor and yet it carried an incisive bite.
Akiva did not bother to look in her direction but continued walking through Independence Hall. Outside the windows, trees glistened like diamonds. Not many tourists ventured out on a day like today, with ice coating the streets. For most of his life, he had lived an hour away from his nation’s birthplace but had never visited the tourist areas, never understood the sacrifices represented here, the truth and freedom. Now that his own freedoms had been seized, he embraced these even more. After departing from Hannah at dawn, he’d sped here to think. “What do you want, Camille?”
Giving him a seductive look that only made him recoil, she ran a hand along his arm, grazed his hand with her cold touch. “I think you know.”
“I’m not interested.”
“What can that haus frau give you? Nothing. She will never understand you, but I can.”
He ignored her.
“Do you believe she was stolen from you too?”
He had no answer for her, only a glowering stare. If looks could kill, then it would do the trick. But he knew it would take much more than that to destroy Camille. But one day…
“Does she have an appreciation for Vivaldi too? And all of that poetry you so love?”
“Do not follow me again.”
She glanced around the hall at the sacred documents. “It is a free country, is it not? I too appreciate the finer things in life, Akiva.” She trailed a long fingernail along his shoulder. “We could be so good together. You and me.”
“I have loved her longer than you could understand.”
“You know nothing of time. I have been alive for over a hundred years.” She gazed at the display of the Constitution. She wore a silk top that revealed the soft mounds of her breasts in a way that Hannah never would, and her black slacks accentuated her long, slim legs and impossibly high heels. She didn’t bother with the pretense of needing a coat in the winter; nothing penetrated her iciness. She would never understand his desire and need for Hannah.
Her eyes burned with hunger; she would feed today, as he would—but not together. He wouldn’t give her that pleasure.
“Have you changed her already? Or would you like me to do so? It can be quite an erotic experience…even more so when shared.”
Akiva wheeled around and through clenched teeth warned, “Don’t you dare.”
But Camille only laughed. “Oh, so you want the pleasure, is that it?”
“Stay away from her. I’m warning you.”
She smiled, her lips closed and one corner of her mouth curling upward.
“I want…” He spoke low and threatening, but then changed course. “She will make the decision. Not me. And not you.” He grabbed Camille’s upper arm, squeezing in a steely grip, but she didn’t even flinch. “Do you understand?”
“We will see.” She gave him a half-lidded, unimpressed glance. “She is tempting, I must say.”
Akiva loosened his grip, let his fingers glide down the inside of her arm. “There is another you might consider.”
Chapter Fifty-nine
Levi was waiting for her. Standing inside the barn door, he kept vigil.
It was late the next morning when she appeared on the drive, walking toward the house, her shoes crunching the patchy ice.
“Hannah!” He ran toward her and skidded to a stop on the gravel. Most of the ice had melted with the rising sun and temperatures, but a deep chill saturated the morning air. He stared at her amber brown eyes, noting the color had not changed. “Where have you been? Are you all right?”
Hannah appeared as if she had survived, but her gaze was distant, distracted, and disturbing.
With a slow blink, she stared at Levi. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Where have you been?”
“With Jacob.”
Levi glanced past her, searching the road for a vehicle or some sign that his brother was nearby. “Where is he now?”
She gave a listless wave of her hand.
He frowned at her and held himself in check to keep from shaking her. What was wrong with her? What had Jacob done to her? “You do not know what you are getting into, Hannah.”
She blinked, quickly this time, her eyelids fluttering slightly as if he’d taken a swing at her. Her shoulders squared against him, and she took a step away from him, her hands settling on her hips. “Who are you to tell me, Levi Fisher?”
Toby gave a bark, and both Hannah and Levi glanced in the dog’s direction. He was staring out at the empty pasture, the hair on his back bristly, his tail pointing straight back. Levi leaned in toward Hannah. “I am only trying to warn you. You do not know who this is that—”
“He is your brother. Did he leave because of you?”
Levi flinched, felt the sting of her words. Maybe he deserved that, but he also knew it wasn’t the whole truth. “Not because of me, Hannah.” His heart heaved. How could he tell her the truth when he didn’t fully understand it himself? “He is but a shadow of his former self. He has changed.”
“I have seen the change. I am not foolish. But you have changed too, Levi.” Her tone was soft yet steely. “
You are jealous of him. Just as he said you were.”
“Is jealousy bad? Even God is jealous of our affection.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you comparing yourself to God?”
He huffed out a breath. “I am trying to protect you, keep you from making an awful bad mistake.”
“No one ever understood Jacob. Even you said so. And now—”
“Did he tell you what he is?” He paused and inched closer, hoping to crowd out whatever voice she was listening to. “Did he explain to you what he does?”
Her lips thinned.
“No, of course not. He lies. He deceives. He is the great pretender.”
She shook her head, backing away, and Levi hesitated. He didn’t want her to leave again. Her head was still shaking back and forth.
Levi advanced on her, grabbed her arm, not only to snag her attention but to assure himself that she wouldn’t run or disappear. He had to make her listen, to understand, to see reality. “Who are you trying to convince, Hannah?” He hissed the words through his teeth. “Me? Or you?”
“But I loved him.”
Loved. Not love. Her words pierced his heart. Had she changed? Had she seen the truth? “This isn’t about love. About breaking your heart or his or even mine. This is about life and death. About Eternity.”
She stared at his hand clamping onto her arm. Finger by finger, he forcefully released her. It went against every instinct, every fiber that wanted to hold her close and protect her. It was ultimately her decision. As everything else in this life, it was a choice. He had to let her make it. But could he release her if she chose Jacob?
“Levi, you must go. He is coming. I promised I would give him my answer.”
“And what will it be?”
She looked at him, her eyes imploring. Was she asking him to understand? Or was she asking for his help? Her eyes filled with tears that reflected the myriad of emotions whirling through him.
For that one moment, all that had passed between them, the anger, grief, and longing, the deep kisses, the fresh hopes and dreams, pulled them once more together. She had felt something for him. She had loved him…if only briefly. If only for a moment. He had to remind her once more, and he pulled her to him, held her as if he’d never let her go. When she glanced up at him, questions churning in the depths of her eyes, he kissed her again.
