Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Michaels, Lydia

  “I cannot.”

  She shook her head. “Then at least let me spend my last few hours in peace. Lord knows it will be the last time I ever have a moment’s worth.”

  “Things will be different when you return. You just have to trust me.”

  “I trust no man.”

  “You will.”

  “I’ll file that promise away with my calling, under things I will die waiting for.”

  “Do not let yourself become so bitter, sweet Larissa. It is not in your nature.”

  “Pardon me if I am not acting my typical biddable self. I assure you when I return to the farm, I will be the epitome of propriety once again so all you powerful males can rest at night, knowing the females of the farm are waiting for your next direction like a herd of contented cattle, too stupid to think for themselves as they’re led to slaughter.”

  “What has made you so bitter? You are so young. I do not understand.”

  “And you never will because you are not only a male, but also our bishop.”

  She felt a tickle along her scalp and a slight sensation probing the surface of her mind. Appalled, she slammed down a lid to her private thoughts and directed all of that telepathic energy back at the bishop. He shouted and grabbed his head, nearly stumbling to the ground.

  When he regained his composure, his eyes were fully dilated. “How did you do that?”

  “I merely threw your own command back at you. Serves you right. It is rude to dig in other people’s minds.”

  “You did not merely throw my command back at me, you intensified it about a thousand percent.”

  “I did not.” She had done no such thing. She wasn’t sure exactly what she did other than reject his intrusion much like she had the other night. Her sister was telepathic. She had rejected Gracie’s intrusion hundreds of times and never intensified anything or caused her any pain. Perhaps the bishop did not know his own strength.

  “What I sent to you was nothing more than a featherlight touch of your thoughts. What you sent back stabbed through my mind and down my spine. Do not do it again.”

  “Fine, but only if you do not come near my mind again.”

  He growled. His hair was sticking up on end from where he had gripped his head. She kind of preferred him a little disheveled. “Enough of this. I am tired and now I have a headache. I have been awake since last night and I want to sleep. Would you prefer I stay in your room or on the couch?”

  The nerve of him! “I would prefer if you stayed at the hotel down the road.”

  “It’s not happening, Larissa. I suggest you accept that now so we can get some rest. No doubt tomorrow will be a long and tedious day.”

  “If you stay here, I won’t sleep,” she quietly admitted, hating that she had to expose such a weakness.

  He frowned. “That is ridiculous.”

  “Please, Bishop King. I promise I will stay put. You can return first thing in the morning. I need my privacy. It is the last chance I will ever get to claim it.”

  She saw the moment he conceded. She wasn’t sure what it was she had said or perhaps it was something in the way she asked, but he was going to allow her privacy.

  “Very well, Larissa. I shall return in the morning.” He sighed as he moved toward the door. “Do not make me regret this.”

  Chapter 11

  Jonas entered his home around midnight and an uncomfortable foreboding filled the pit of his stomach. Abilene, Grace, and Cain sat at the kitchen table quietly as if waiting for him.

  “What is it?” he asked, reluctant to fully enter the room.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Father,” Cain suggested.

  “Thank you, but I’d rather stand. Has something happened?”

  Abilene looked up at him with glassy eyes. “The children know, Jonas.”

  His jaw ticked. “Know what?”

  “We know you are being called, Father,” Grace said softly, sympathy pinching her features. Abilene must have told them. Before he could question his wife, Grace quickly said, “Mother did not betray your trust. We figured it out on our own.”

  “And you have all waited here for me for what exactly?”

  “We want to know who she is,” his daughter informed him.

  He laughed, but found no humor in the situation. Shaking his head, he said, “She is of no consequence. Who she is matters not. You will never know her.”

  “Father—”

  “I am sorry, Grace. I am sorry for all of you. I never chose for this to happen and I have no control over the situation, but I will not simply turn away from my family because God suddenly decrees another female is intended for me. This is my home. You three and Adam and Annalise and Larissa are my family. I do not need nor want another.

  “Now, if you will excuse me—”

  Cain stood. “Father, you cannot just ignore this.”

  “I can and I will!” he suddenly bellowed, shocking them all. Abilene looked down at the table before her and he felt her upset as if it were a living, breathing thing between them. “I do not mean to shout, but this is upsetting your mother. I do not want to discuss it any further.”

  He turned to walk out of the room when his wife’s words halted his steps. “Jonas, stop. There is no escaping the pain this situation will bring. I am tired of dancing around what is happening. It is not just happening to you. It is happening to all of us. You will either go to this woman eventually or you will die. I look forward to neither outcome, yet both will hurt me most. We want to know and you have no right keeping it from us any longer.”

  “You do not know what you are asking, Abilene.”

  “Oh, I believe I do. I am merely still in shock because I never in my seventy-eight years imagined us here, having this conversation.”

  He was so close to escaping. His fingers itched to reach for the door and flee. He looked toward the dark hallway and whispered, “You are young, Abilene, half my age. You are beautiful and kind and any male would be…” He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Would be blessed to have you.”

  “Do not,” she hissed. “Do not stand there and begin deciding my life for me when you plan on giving up on your own.”

  “What choice do I have, Abilene?” he asked, truly wishing someone would give him another choice. He was desperate to alter his fate and save his marriage, his family.

  “I will not watch you die,” she vowed.

  “I am sorry.” It seemed all he did anymore was apologize. “I will not involve you in the life of some mortal I never intend to—”

  “Clara!” Gracie suddenly announced and all eyes moved from him to his daughter.

  They had tricked him. They had distracted him and manipulated his emotions so that he would let down his guard enough for his daughter to slip into his mind unnoticed. “Grace, do not do this. I am your father. At least give me the respect and privacy I deserve. I know you think you are helping, but you are not.”

  His daughter looked back at him as if torn between doing what she thought was best and what he had asked of her. “You will not last long this way, Father. Eventually you will grow feeish. I do not wish to see you in such a way. When you reach that point, you will be too far gone to find her. What do you think that will do to Mother? Do you think she will stand idly by while the others storm our home and hunt you down? No. She will protect your life with her own and your stubbornness will leave us all orphans in the end.”

  “I will leave before it comes to that.”

  “And you will go to her eventually once your instincts become stronger than your mind. Only by then you may have already harmed other innocents in the process.”

  “Saying her name makes it real.”

  “It’s already real, Father. Let us help you.”

  “No.”

  “Very well. You leave me no choice then.”

  “Gracie—”

  But before he could finish his statement, his daughter announced, “Her name is Clara Barnes. She is aged and has hair the color of snow.
I saw her in Father’s mind at a graveyard and then again surrounded by clay pots and paintings.”

  Jonas breathed unsteadily. “You had no right,” he choked.

  “She had every right, Jonas. If this were my fate rather than yours, would you stand by and watch me kill myself?” Abilene asked.

  His lips pressed together, unable to find the words or the target for his anger, his blame. “What’s done is done. You know her name. Now let it go. We are finished here.”

  “You must go to her, Jonas,” Abilene said, unable to meet his eyes.

  “I will never go to her,” he informed them then briskly turned and walked out of his home.

  * * * *

  Gracie and Cain watched Abilene leave the kitchen the moment their father left. This had not been easy for any of them, but it was hardest on their mother. She turned to her brother. “Well, you were not much help. Why did you not say somethi—”

  “What was the woman’s name?” he snapped as if he were not even listening to her.

  “What? Clara. Cain, you should have stopped him—”

  “Barnes?”

  “Will you stop interrupting me! Yes, Barnes, Clara Barnes. Now what are we supposed—”

  “She had white hair and you saw her in a graveyard?”

  Gracie sighed and looked toward heaven, begging God for patience. “Yes—”

  “Did you see children?”

  “What?”

  “Did you see children, Grace?”

  She shut her eyes and thought for a moment on what she saw in her father’s thoughts. There was a cemetery with an open grave, a coffin resting above the hollowed earth and sprinkled in yellow flowers. Clara, the woman, stood as if looking directly at her, but Gracie knew these were not her thoughts, but her father’s memories. The woman had been looking at Jonas. To the right there were two smaller figures, but they were blurry. “There may be children there.”

  “Two? A boy and a girl?”

  “I don’t know. I could not see them clearly. I was mostly searching for the woman.”

  “Is there a coffin?”

  “Yes, covered with—”

  “Yellow roses,” Cain interrupted and finished.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know who she is.”

  “What? How?”

  “I’ve seen her,” he said, as shocked as she was by his revelation. “Just as you saw her in Father’s mind.”

  “How?”

  “On the English news. The reporter I told you about, the one following the murders, she was there at the cemetery. That is one of the victim’s families. Clara Barnes was the mother to one of the women Uncle Isaiah may have murdered.”

  Gracie’s fingers went to her lips. “That is impossible.”

  Cain shook his head as if he, too, could not accept the irony of the situation. Then as if stepping out of his mind and into the present, he looked at her and said, “I can find her.”

  Gracie took a deep breath and released it slowly. “That is not your place.”

  “You heard Father. He plans to do nothing. I do not need to meet the woman. I can simply locate her and become more familiar with her in case we need her sooner than we suspect. It is in our best interest to know where she is.”

  “How will you find her?”

  He smiled, not a kind smile. “The reporter. She will know where they are.”

  “Cain, you cannot leave a trail. Involving yourself with some zealous reporter will somehow connect you to the recent murders. What if she labels you a suspect? You would attract attention we cannot afford. We cannot risk exposure.”

  “You underestimate me as usual, sister. When I find the annoying little reporter I will simply find out what we need to know and erase her memory of ever meeting me. I will not leave a trail.”

  “When will you go?”

  “Tonight. It will take me some time to find her. She usually reports from the county sheriff’s office or the woods near the latest murder scene. I will wait her out and then find out what I need to know.”

  “And what shall I tell Mother and Father?”

  “Tell Mother I will be back soon, but do not inform her of where I have gone. Father you must watch. If things begin to turn for the worst, you have Anna contact me right away. Tell her and Adam what has happened and together the three of us will somehow figure this out.”

  Chapter 12

  Eleazar returned before the sun rose the following morning. The autumn temperatures had set in, yet he found her shelter warm and filled with a scent he now recognized as purely Larissa. He had taken the time to explore the space she had been living in for the past months.

  There were little telltale items marking her Amish roots. He noticed a worn bible tucked neatly beside her couch. This brought him comfort, for Eleazar was the bishop of The Order and as such, he had found much comfort in their Christian existence. He was the oldest among his people and one of the founders of their sect. He had played a great role in leading his flock to the New World in search of a better quality of life. No matter how tired he felt some days, he was a man of duty and it was his duty to continue to guide his people. That Larissa had not forsaken all of her Christian values on her journey to the English suburbs brought him a degree of hope he had not depended on.

  Her apartment was sparse. Not quite to the degree of their Amish homes, but still less decorated than a born-and-bred English woman would like. She did not adorn her walls with frivolous decorations. Like many sects believed, beauty could be found in functional devices, but was not meant to be displayed in vain. Eleazar admired the calendar Larissa had hung on the wall in her hallway. It featured pictures of rolling, amber fields and vibrant-colored trees dappled in autumn hues of red, copper, and gold. The images reminded him of home and he imagined Larissa had enjoyed the pictures for the same reason. That brought him hope.

  Eleazar was unsure how the day would play out. Larissa was his called mate. Once he acknowledged the fact, he felt like a simpleton for not realizing it sooner. He was beginning to remember small bits of dreams he had had and he could finally explain his recent irritability and lack of appetite. It was still a bit surreal to be over five hundred years on this earth and suddenly find himself blessed with a calling.

  Larissa did not seem aware of the calling they shared, or if she did, she did not make her knowledge known to him. She was married and that complicated matters. Eleazar frowned. He did not enjoy thinking of his mate belonging to another male. It was an unacceptable irritant, one which he would soon remedy.

  Watching Larissa now as she slept peacefully in her small bed, he finally had a chance to truly look at the girl. She was so young. Of course fifty would not be considered young to a mortal, but to Eleazar… he sighed. He still remembered paying his respects to the Hartzlers the evening of her birth. Abilene Hartzler had been so proud of her firstborn as had Jonas. They did not allow their joy to be affected by the fact that their firstborn had not been male. Eleazar supposed he should be grateful for that fact as well.

  He had held the babe in his arms and prayed for a life of happiness and health for the small child. Nothing more than a bundle of fluff surrounding a peep of a wrinkled pink face filled his arms and yet, here she was, almost fifty years later, fully grown, no longer a babe, but a woman. His mate.

  Why had it taken so long for him to realize his calling? Why would God allow him to sit idly by and watch his mate be handed off to another male? He was not one to question the Almighty, but suddenly he felt an acute sting of disappointment. He had been led down a path, a path he trusted God to light along the way, yet somehow he had ended up at a complicated crossroad.

  He knew Larissa would return to the farm with him. She had not broken her word the night before and left. No, she stayed put as she promised like the obedient female she was. She stayed, knowing he would return for her and lead her back to the life she had so desperately tried to escape. Was it her marriage to Silus? Larissa was a strong female. Silus Hostetle
r should not have been able to break her spirit. She had gifts Eleazar did not quite understand, but not since his days in Europe, did he recall another immortal able to disarm him so. She would not confess the limits of her abilities, but it was something Eleazar was determined to find out.

  How was it that she could outmaneuver him, yet she seemed as terrified as a field mouse of her husband? There were varying levels of disciplines, gifts, among The Order. Eleazar played through his recollections of the Hartzler clan in his mind. He knew the youngest one, Grace, showed gifts with telepathy. While the twins were capable of compelling lesser creatures, he was not aware of much else. He did recall that Adam, the older twin, had some gifts with telekinesis. Jonas had informed the council several years ago that his one son displayed an aptitude for moving small items with only his mind. While Ezekiel, the eldest Hartzler male, was fairly capable in many disciplines, Jonas was not. Abilene Christener, now Hartzler, did not possess any notable gifts to Eleazar’s knowledge. The girl’s gifts were remarkable considering there was not a genetic giftedness among the family.

  She was a riddle to Eleazar in so many ways. He watched her now, curled under the covers of her small bed. Her raven-colored hair fanned out over her white pillow, creating a beautiful contrast. Her features were almost angelic. Soft-purple shadows from her dark lashes crested her high cheekbones. Her mouth was full and led Eleazar’s mind to places he was not quite comfortable with exploring yet.

  She was a tall beauty. Her figure was generous where a female should be blessed with generosity. Long and lithe, her body curved and swelled with natural perfection. She was tall, taller than most females, which suited him well. He admired her long fingers and narrow feet that peeped out from below her covers. While her limbs were tapered and attractive, her hips swelled lusciously. She would easily breed.

  The thought of Larissa’s body swelling with a child, his child, had his body awakening. How was it, in a year of marriage, she had not yet gotten with child? If he had been entitled to a year of enjoying her as his frau, she would surely be breeding by now. Perhaps Silus was not a very attentive husband where matters of mating were concerned. This theory pleased Eleazar and he decided to ignore any doubt hinting otherwise.