He laughed and she frowned. There was nothing funny about what she was asking. “Dear God, Larissa. What is it you think I am doing when I take women back to my bed?”
A vision of Silus and their bedroom popped into her mind and she cringed. “I know what man and woman do. Do not forget I am married.”
“And do not forget whatever Silus did, he did wrong,” he interrupted with unhidden distaste for her husband.
“Yes, well, still I was not asking about…that. I was asking about feeding.”
“My darling sister, they are one in the same. When a male feeds from a female, it is incredibly erotic. Did you not even have that with that bastard husband of yours?”
“Do not pity me, Cain Hartzler. He may have been a bastard, but I escaped him and he will never have me back. But to answer your question, no, what we shared was never…erotic. Perhaps it is only that way for males.”
He shook his head. “No, females experience it as well. I have been intimate with enough females of our kind to know.”
“You are a whore.”
“Perhaps, but I am a well-satisfied whore who feeds often and loves equally enough. You will not find a complainer in my long line of conquests, so I feel no shame for the way I am.”
“You really should try to be a little less proud, Cain.”
“This, from the Amish female gone stripper?”
“I do not strip! I dance.”
“Tomato, toe-mah-tow.”
“There is a difference.”
“Whatever. Anyway, back to what you were wondering about, so long as the other party is not being harmed, I see nothing wrong with feeding from a mortal. Just make sure you remove the memory. Besides, I find their blood is stronger than that of animals. If it is true, and the bishop is searching for you, it may not be a bad idea to find yourself a mortal to feed from, to keep up your strength. Perhaps you could bed one as well. I would hate to see anyone live their life with Silus Hostetler as their only reference for coupling.”
“I will not!”
“Awfully prudish for a stripper, ahem, my apologies. Dancer.”
“You are an evil brother.”
“Yes, and Adam is the angel. What is a boy to do with such an incongruent existence to that of his perfect twin? It really does keep me up at night, you know, thus all the company I must keep. They soothe me.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I know. Now I must be going. It is getting late and if I want to find a partner for the evening, I had better get moving.”
He stood and she hurled a pillow at him. “Evil.”
“Yes, yes, it is the story of my existence. Lock the door behind me, sister. Sleep well.”
He left and the door shut with a whisper and a click. The nerve of him! To think she would ever allow someone into her bed, someone other than Silus. No, thank you! She had had more than enough intimate encounters to last her the rest of her very long existence. She wanted no male’s touch. It was as if that part of her was broken. Even that evening, she had known Vito was becoming aroused, yet the only lust she felt was bloodlust. Besides, other than Vito and Cain, there was no other male she trusted. And Cain was her brother and Vito was her friend and why was she even thinking about this?
She rolled her eyes and laughed at her brother and his rakish ways. He did make her laugh and for that she was grateful.
Chapter 2
Jonas pressed his forehead into the cool plaster wall of the safe house, palms trembling against the chipped surface, body quaking with pain, as he tried to collect himself. The agony that was radiating through his body seemed to seize his intestines, tie them into knots, stab every nerve ending along his spine, and vibrate even his skull until he could barely hold a single rational thought. His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as his eyes pinched shut, trapping his tears. Not now. He could not suffer another spell at this moment.
He could hear the voices of the elders and other males gathering in the council room. There were only a few more minutes until the meeting would begin. He needed to get a hold of himself. It wasn’t as if he would be able to slip in unnoticed. He was being questioned today on his knowledge of his daughter Larissa’s whereabouts. He knew not where his eldest daughter was, only that she had fled the farm the evening of his son Adam’s wedding, the same evening the dreams had started.
Another excruciating hunger pain knifed through his gut. He grunted against the twinge and flinched as it reverberated up his body, causing even his shoulders to throb. He could not let the others see him like this. Dear God, his poor Abilene. How much longer would he be able to pretend that everything was all right, that everything was how it had always been? He was fighting a losing battle.
It had been two months, two months since those godforsaken dreams had begun. He knew the first night he saw her in his dreams that he would not be able to outwit God’s will, yet he had yet to surrender to the Lord. He was being called. One hundred and forty-one years on this earth without even a whisper from the Almighty and now his God was screaming in his mind.
Her name was Clara. He had been suffering the dreams long enough to gather her identity. She appeared to be in her late fifties with hair the color of snow and as fine as spun silk. Her eyes were a soft shade of green and, although her mortality had placed its mark along her skin, her vitality had blessed her with some unnamable youthful quality. She was a remarkable woman to behold, yet there was a sadness hidden beneath her surface. Her biggest flaw was that she was not his Abilene.
In the past few weeks, it seemed he could not stop remembering moments he had long forgotten. It was as if his mind was clinging to his memories, terrified he would soon lose them forever. His darling Abilene, sixty years ago when she was only a young girl of eighteen, she had been still a baby in the eyes of immortals. He could still recall the sweet scent of her hair that first day he picnicked with her. He remembered how charming he thought her smile when he slipped a daisy behind her small ear just so he could see if her golden-brown hair felt as soft as it appeared. He had not been disappointed. As his fingers brushed a wisp that had escaped her bonnet, he realized it was as soft as the wheat it resembled. She had giggled as he pulled his hand away, his fingers tickling the soft skin along her neck. He still could recall the jolt of excitement her laugh had caused in him. He knew in that moment that he wanted her.
Jonas approached the council that month after speaking to his father, Ezekiel, and her father, Thaddeus, about his wishes. Many advised against marrying a female that was not one’s true mate, but Jonas could not let her go. She was his and he needed to claim her in every sense of the word. While called mates grew together and found love along the journey, Jonas had loved Abilene from the start. After sixty years of marriage, his love had only evolved and become stronger. What he felt for his beautiful wife was too all-encompassing to be labeled by such a small word. What he felt for Abilene was bigger than love.
She had given him four beautiful children. Their family had not been an easy achievement. He had suffered through five miscarriages with his gentle wife, watched her suffer and cry for the children she had lost. He knew what the others suspected. He had heard the whispers at service during those times that Abilene was recovering. Many suspected his wife would never experience the blessing of holding a baby in her womb again because it had not been God’s will. They believed it was the cost of marrying a male whom she had not been called to. Perhaps they were right.
He would die for Abilene. Always a religious male, Jonas could not fathom why the Lord would be testing him now. Perhaps he had earned His smiting, but not Abilene. She would suffer most from this. He knew he could fight the calling with every bit of strength he possessed, but he would never win. There was nothing more powerful than the will of God.
Abilene was getting closer to discovering his secret. Beyond the pain was the ever-present hunger that left him thirsting for the blood of his mate. In the past few weeks, he had moved from needing to feed in small do
ses every few days to being steadily ravenous. He had actually drunk a calf to near death. Never, never in his long existence, had he ever killed a creature of God. With each day he was becoming less in control of his actions and more frightened of what he was becoming.
He could no longer tolerate exposure to the sun. The simplest jaunt across the farm resulted in a headache so severe it was if a thousand ice picks were being repeatedly lodged into his eyes. His skin suffered a steady prickling sting that never eased. Even after the sun had set, the damage of exposure remained. All of his life he had only suffered minor bruises and breaks. Never had he imagined the agony of existing in complete pain encompassing every inch of flesh, every organ, every nerve, limb, and motion for every moment of the day. Yes, he was an immortal of substantial strength and impeccable health. But with each circle of the moon, his strength weakened and his health faltered. He was dying.
He had stopped sleeping at night. Because their kind never dreamed unless they were being called, Jonas could not risk sleeping next to his wife lest she hear him in his sleep. Lethargy had taken over. Only risking shutting his eyes a few moments here and there throughout the quiet hours of the day, he had depleted most of his strength. He could barely hold on to a complete thought anymore. It was coming. He could sense the end approaching.
The first signs of being called were the dreams. Then came the dizzy spells and the sensitivity to the sun. Once the relentless hunger set in, it was only a matter of time. The hunger was the body’s way of demanding one locate his mate. No longer would mere animal blood sustain a male. It would soon have to be that of a female, but not just any female, it would have to be the blood of one’s true mate. If the hunger was not satisfied, the host became feeish.
Feeish was what became of the called if they went too long unanswered. Once a male or female experiences the calling, there was only a short amount of time before they turn feral. An animalistic need for their mate eventually takes over the senses, removing the layers of their acquired humanity with each passing moment, until there is nothing human left, only a rabid beast, needing to be put down.
Of the nine families, dating back four generations, occupying the farm, only about twenty percent of them were blessed with a true called mate. Jonas wished this blessing were bestowed upon someone else. For it was no blessing to him, only a burden that was slowly killing him. Never in his life had he felt such fear, such uncertainty. He was at the mercy of God and His plan. And for as powerful as Jonas was as an immortal, at the end of the day he was just a man, no match for God.
Taking a steadying breath, Jonas slowly shook his head and brushed away the tear that had slipped past his entwined lashes. He would love and he would hope. And when he could bear no more, he would draw his last breath, knowing that he held on to Abilene’s love stronger than he did the love of his God. If he could not grant her eawichkeit, eternity, he could at least grant her that.
The door behind him clicked open. “Father?”
Jonas pulled away from the wall and turned to face his son. “Adam. I was just coming to join the others. Has the meeting begun?”
“The elders are settling in now. Are you ill? Would you like me to see if we could postpone?”
Jonas placed his hat atop his head, shading his eyes. “No, that won’t be necessary. I shall not put off my duty for another day. I was merely taking a moment to pray.”
Adam looked as though he wanted to argue with his father’s desire to proceed as scheduled, but Jonas did not give him the opportunity. Walking toward the door, he said, “Come. Let us get this done with. No doubt Silus has already paced away the tread of the bishop’s clean carpets.”
They traveled in silence through the old house that was also the bishop’s home. Avoiding the section that was Bishop King’s living quarters, they proceeded toward the council room. Adriel Schrock, the oldest female on the farm, waited on a wooden bench outside the council hall as always. While she was almost five hundred years old, two hundred years older than some of the elders on the council, she was a female and therefore not issued an invitation to attend council meetings. However she never missed a meeting, even if she could only attend on the other side of the door. Jonas knew it was her way of staying abreast to The Order’s political business. Although she was on the other side of the door, she was an extremely powerful immortal. Jonas had no doubt she heard every whispered word from within the hall.
“Good evening, Adriel.” He nodded as he passed.
“Jonas.”
Holding the door for his son, Jonas stepped inside and let the heavy oak door creak closed with an echoing thud. His eyes immediately found his father along the elders’ bench. The bishop’s empty seat did not go unnoticed.
“Welcome, Brother Jonas, Brother Adam,” Abraham Gerig, the eldest male member of the council, greeted. He would be presiding over the meeting in the bishop’s stead.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Jonas replied taking a seat on one of the many pews that faced the council.
“We ask that you join us up here, Jonas. We would like to get started straight away. There is much to address this evening,” Abraham informed. The male was nearing four hundred years and while their kind did not appear older than perhaps thirty, there was a tiredness to Abraham’s eyes that marked his time on this earth. The Gerig family was not a long lineage. After losing his mate on the ship over from Europe three centuries back, the Gerig clan had ceased to grow. It was only Abraham and his daughter, Abigail.
Abigail was two hundred and seventy-some years old, yet had the autonomy of a child. It was common knowledge among The Order that Abraham rarely let his daughter out of his sight. He was old, alone, and eternally set in his ways. Jonas briefly regretted that the bishop would not be questioning him this night.
Taking a seat at the front end of the room, Jonas removed his hat and faced the others.
“Let the record state that, on this second Tuesday of November, the council is questioning Jonas Hartzler, son of Council Elder Ezekiel Hartzler, on the whereabouts of his daughter Larissa Hartzler Hostetler, wife of Silus Hostetler,” Abraham stated. “Questioning will begin with Council Elder Damascus Hostetler, father of Silus Hostetler. Do you object, Brother Jonas?”
“No, sir.” There was no doubt in Jonas’s mind that Silus had instructed his father on exactly what to ask.
“Very well. You may begin, Brother Damascus.”
Damascus faced Jonas, his chair creaking in the quiet room. “Jonas, when was the last time you saw your daughter, Larissa?”
“The evening of my son Adam’s wedding.”
“And when was that exactly?”
“The last Tuesday of this past August,” Jonas provided.
“Was this the same day that your son, Cain, had also left the farm?” the elder asked.
“Yes, but they did not leave together. Silus had not been able to find Larissa some time after supper while the wedding was still commencing. I had seen Cain after that.”
“Are there any other witnesses to Cain’s presence post Larissa’s absence?”
“Yes. Bishop Eleazar King can vouch for my son’s presence at the farm late that evening. He was retaining Cain in a cell.”
“Let the record show that the bishop is not present to concur.”
Jonas’s father interrupted. “Let the record also show that Bishop King’s personal log will note that, while my grandson was in his custody, he was also released that same evening. I beg your pardon, early the following morning, after my granddaughter was declared missing.”
“Very well,” Damascus stated, turning back to Jonas. “Did your daughter speak to you or your wife about possibly running away?”
“No.”
“You seem awfully certain of that. Perhaps you should take a moment before speaking for your wife with such conviction.”
“I do not need a moment to think. I know my wife. She keeps no secrets from me. Neither she nor I had any knowledge of Larissa’s intentions to leave the farm
.”
“Is it true that the evening of her disappearance, the vehicle you had procured for your son Adam’s journey into the suburbs days earlier had gone missing?”
“Yes,” Jonas agreed.
His father quickly amended, “Let the record also show that my grandson, Adam, has already testified that it was Cain who had left with the vehicle.”
Damascus eyed Jonas’s son suspiciously. “I have known you all of your life, Adam, and never have I known you to tell a lie. I will trust that the truck was taken by your brother and move to remove it as evidence.” Turning back to Jonas, he asked, “Brother Jonas, have you ever taken notice of Larissa in the presence of another male while in the care of your family?”
“I am not sure I understand.”
“My son attends many meetings. He tells me that when he cannot be there for your daughter, he trusts her in your family’s care. Have there ever been males, aside from your two sons, present during those times?”
“We have many visitors. I could not be sure. As you know, I, too, attend the same meetings as Silus.”
“Perhaps we should call your other daughter, Grace, in for questioning. Or perhaps Abilene.”
Jonas growled at the elder. “There will be no reason to call in my wife or daughter. I would see it as a personal insult if they were bothered with such questioning. It is under the family law that any male Larissa may have been exposed to be no one’s business but that of her and her husband. No other male or female has a right to question the laws a male requires his wife to follow. It is a private matter.”
“True, however, it is a council matter once a mated female is placed in jeopardy.”
“That is enough,” Ezekiel interrupted calmly. “I will remind you, Brother Damascus, that Larissa and your son are not called mates, simply husband and wife. Furthermore, I will not tolerate the moral fiber of my kin being called into question. Perhaps you would prefer to call your son up for questioning to obtain the personal information you seek.”
Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3
