by Logan Jacobs
A few lamps flickered to life in darkened homes, and a few minutes later, we saw the men start to leave the houses along the street, though no one was armed, and no one ran toward the church. Simon appeared a few moments later and stumbled past us on his way to the mudroom. The four of us followed after him, though the Amish man didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s going on?” I asked the taciturn man when he dropped onto one of the benches.
Simon blinked at me like he was surprised that I was still there.
“Michael has called a meeting,” Simon finally explained. “Only the men are allowed to attend.”
“A meeting about what?” Darwin pressed.
“Who knows,” Simon replied in a muffled voice as he tried to wrap a scarf around his neck while he was only halfway into his coat. “Usually no point, but we’re required to go.”
Somehow, Simon managed to finish dressing himself, and he tumbled out the back door into the snow. He nearly fell twice as he struggled to reach the steps to the yard, but he made it to the ground and plowed across the yard toward the side of the house.
“I wonder what Michael wants to discuss,” Darwin mused.
“Maybe we could find a place to listen in,” Sorcha suggested.
“The church didn’t really look like it had very many hiding spots,” I pointed out. “But I’m with you, I would like to know what this angel wants to tell them.”
“There’s a cellar,” Freya remarked. “I saw the doors by the side of the church. Maybe we could sneak in that way.”
“Let’s give everyone a few minutes to get there, and then we’ll head over,” Darwin suggested.
We all nodded and then started to pull on our boots and gear one more time. When Darwin felt we’d let an appropriate amount of time pass, we slipped outside and followed Simon’s path through the snow. It led straight to the church, as we had guessed, and it was joined by hundreds of other footprints as we neared the site of worship.
We had to duck into the shadows and watch as a few latecomers hurried toward the building, where lamps now burned over the main door, but when we couldn’t see any more people on the street, we moved quickly across the cemetery, then around the back of the building. The cellar doors were buried under a thick blanket of snow, but we managed to clear them quickly. Like the rest of the town, the doors were unbarred, and we hurried down the steps with one of Sorcha’s flickering mage lights as our guide.
The cellar was larger than the church above us and filled with everything from farming tools, like hoes and shovels, to shelves of pickled vegetables and stacks of books labeled ‘Holy Bible’. It was also equipped with thick walls, and though we could hear footsteps on the boards above our heads, it was hard to hear anything else that was taking place in the church itself.
Freya spotted the steps that led to the main floor, and we tiptoed to the top step. As quietly as she could, Freya cracked the door open just enough that we could hear the voices in the church. It didn’t sound like Michael had arrived yet, since all we could hear was the hum of competing conversations. Every so often, I could catch a phrase or a word, but about all I could determine was that no one seemed to know why Michael had summoned them.
We didn’t have long to wait as we heard the church door open with a bang, and the gathered men instantly went silent. Though we couldn’t see anything, I somehow pictured the Amish standing with bowed heads as Michael strode up the aisle to the front of the church to stand next to Buddy Christ.
“Everyone is here?” Michael demanded, and I was surprised at how deep his voice sounded. It resonated in the confines of the church and made the rest of the voices sound weak and insipid.
“All from within the town,” a voice replied. “The outer farms…”
“Can be told later,” Michael decreed.
“Yes, Holy One,” the voice said meekly.
“I have come with a message from God,” Michael continued. “He wants to assure you that you are still His people and that you are protected. I have been instructed to remain with you for as long as your faith in Him is strong.”
I wouldn’t have said the Amish men cheered that news, exactly, but the crowd definitely buzzed with excitement, and I heard a few people use the word ‘Alleluia’.
“Now, tell me about these strangers that arrived,” Michael continued a moment later when the noise quieted down. “They had guns.”
“They did, Holy One,” I heard Jacob respond. “It has been a long time since we have seen someone carry such weapons.”
“Yes, the unholy mages have done everything they can to destroy guns,” Michael mused. “They fear the power that the guns have over them.”
“Perhaps they will share their guns,” someone suggested. “They were very helpful in our battle against the demons.”
“Perhaps,” Michael replied, though I didn’t have to see the expression on his face to know that he didn’t believe that was likely.
“Holy One,” Jacob called out. “There is some… concern about the stranger called Freya.”
“What concerns?” Michael asked in a bored tone.
“It’s possible that she is… a demon,” Jacob stated in dramatic fashion. “One of our men that was near her believes he saw the ear of a rabbit for a brief moment during today’s battle. But as you requested, we did not confront the strangers.”
The church was silent for several moments, and I could almost hear everyone in the pews hold their breaths.
“This is not unexpected,” Michael finally declared. “I know this has been difficult for you, but I commend you for your patience and your faith. There is a reason that God has asked you not to act, and his plans will be made clear to you soon.”
There was another burst of low level conversation, and then the church fell silent. Floorboards creaked as Michael apparently walked along the aisle, first toward the door, then back toward the statue. No one said a word or even cleared their throat until Michael was back in place.
“Have the strangers brought to the aerie,” Michael declared. “Before they leave in the morning.”
“As you command, Holy One,” Jacob replied.
“I will perform my own tests to determine the nature of these visitors,” Michael added. “And we shall know soon enough if they are Godly or demonic.”
“I hate mages,” Darwin muttered as the Amish men finally cheered.
Chapter 10
As the meeting began to break up, Freya pulled the door closed, and we descended into the cellar once again. The walk to our escape hatch felt like it took forever, though we probably made it in half the time. Not that it mattered, since we were stuck in the basement until most of the men had left, and then we would have a reasonably clear path back to the house. As we had done at the top of the steps, we cracked open the door, though this time we could see part of the street and the men who were gathered there.
“I’m just going to throw this out there, but I personally have no desire to have a personal meeting with Michael,” Darwin whispered.
“I think we’re all in favor of leaving before they can extend the angel’s invitation,” Sorcha replied.
“Absolutely,” Freya and I both whispered.
“We’ll head back to the trail we know and take the old road to Scranton-Barre,” Darwin suggested.
“If we leave early enough, we can make some good distance on the road before we have to stop,” I added.
That drew nods all around as we watched the crowd start to dissipate. A few still lingered, but they were focused on whatever discussions they were still having, so we quietly pushed the cellar door back and slunk from our spot. Once everyone was clear, I eased the door back into position as quietly as I could, though it still made a soft thud. The four of us froze in place, but no one looked our way, so we slipped around the back of the church, then started to cut across the cemetery.
We were on the street and hugging the shadows when a dog started to bark. Not one of the Weimaraners, but a higher pitc
hed sound that was more like a yap. A woman appeared from one of the passageways between the homes with a small orange dog on a leash. The thing looked like a mass of fur with a pair of pointed ears, and its short legs meant it had a tough time in the snow even though it barely sank into the piles.
“Hush, Tippy,” the woman chided quietly. “Do you want to get us in trouble? You know we’re not supposed to be out.”
Tippy knew we were nearby, though, and didn’t seem all that concerned what others might think about their late night stroll. The fuzzball continued to yap, and though the woman had spotted us, several of the men who were on their way home from the meeting had heard the dog and turned to investigate. Tippy’s owner tried to pull the dog into the passageway while she continued to tell it to be quiet, but the pair had already been seen as well as heard.
“Lila?” a lean man demanded as he and several others approached.
The woman finally gave up on her escape plan and turned to face the men. She gave the leash one hard yank that lifted the dog off his front feet and cut him off in mid bark.
“I’m sorry, Isiah,” the woman apologized as she looked at the ground. “But Tippy was desperate to go, and I didn’t think she would make it until the end of the meeting. Sometimes they last so long….”
The woman trailed off as she waited for whatever Isiah and the rest of the men were about to do to her. Isiah looked as if he were about to slap the woman, but then he scowled at the dog and turned to look along the street. We were pressed along the side of a store, as deep in the shadows as we could get, but the man studied the darkness, then stepped toward us with the rest of the men on his heels. I had just enough time to see Lila and Tippy retreat down the passageway, and then the view was nothing but angry Amish men.
“What are you doing out?” Isiah demanded.
“We just wanted some fresh air,” Sorcha replied calmly in her hypnotic voice. “We felt we needed a walk after all that food.”
“A walk,” Isiah repeated. “Yes, a walk makes sense.”
“We had no idea we weren’t allowed to be outside,” Sorcha continued.
“No one told you you couldn’t be outside,” Isiah agreed.
“We had no idea you had a meeting,” Sorcha suggested.
“No idea,” Isiah mumbled.
“Isiah, what’s wrong with you?” one of the other men demanded. “Someone get Michael!”
Before Sorcha could shift her focus, two of the men ran as fast as they could through the snow back toward the church.
“Step out here!” a short man with black hair demanded angrily. “You’re all demons!”
“Knew I should have brought the Glock,” Darwin snorted.
“You won’t hurt us,” Sorcha snapped, though not in her magic tones. “Your God won’t allow it.”
That seemed to stop the men for a moment, and several glanced anxiously back toward the church. The short angry man only looked more frustrated, though, and I figured if anyone would be the first to attack, it would be him. We were in a stand-off, and for several moments, the two groups simply stared at each other.
“We’ll return to the house and collect our gear, then leave,” Sorcha announced as she once again dropped her voice into an enticing bass.
Isiah nodded, and a few of the others looked as if they would go along with the suggestion, but the short angry man threw a hard jab into Isiah’s shoulder that nearly sent the taller man into a pile of snow.
“We’ll wait for Michael,” the short angry man declared. “Unless they try to run, and then we’ll chase them down. That’s what Michael wanted.”
Before Sorcha could turn her magic on the short man, Michael strode down the street with a large posse of Amish men. Michael led the way, with his dark red cape billowing behind him and his breastplate glinting in the moonlight. The sword was sheathed on his waist, though I noticed his hand rested on the hilt.
When the angel stopped in front of us, I finally got my close up look. He was older than I’d first thought, with small wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and the start of a double chin. A trace of gray near the temples gave him the look of a respected elder statesman, and he still carried himself as if he were ready to head into battle at a moment’s notice. He had a good two inches on me as well, which meant he loomed over the average Amish man like a statue in a museum. Add a pair of broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms, and it was easy to see why the Amish had been willing to take him in, especially when he came with the ability to lob fire at the enemy.
“Ah, our visitors,” Michael greeted us, though his voice didn’t boom as it had in the church.
“We were out for a walk,” Darwin sniffed. “And then all these men came running up.”
Michael considered that statement for a moment, then slowly turned his head to study the town.
“It is quite lovely in the moonlight,” Michael decreed. “But you must be very cold. Surely your explorations could have waited until morning.”
“We were just trying to work off some of the food we ate,” I replied. “I’m about to pop out of my pants myself.”
“It is good to enjoy one’s food,” Michael intoned, “though never to the point of gluttony.”
I didn’t respond while I tried to work out whether I had just been insulted. It felt like an insult, and certainly sounded like one, though the angel hadn’t actually accused us of gluttony. And besides, it was the Amish who had kept pushing more food on us, possibly to prevent us from actually rushing out of the hall before Jacob could deliver his speech on the evil world beyond the valley.
“But, as the good people of Pastor know, the Lord works in mysterious ways,” Michael continued. “And no doubt he has brought you out on this night so that we could meet.”
“No doubt,” Darwin snickered.
Michael only smiled as his gaze fastened onto the old man. Darwin, for his part, returned the steely stare with one of his own.
“This is the perfect opportunity for you to join me at the aerie,” Michael declared. “We’ll enjoy a glass of ambrosia while we talk.”
“But it’s so late, and we are feeling tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Sorcha protested.
“Especially in this snow,” Freya added, though she remained little more than a shadow behind her grandfather.
“Nonsense,” Michael laughed. “Come, let us enjoy one of God’s greatest gifts.”
Michael stepped back just enough to give us room to step into the street. For a brief moment, I thought about simply walking past the angel, but our foursome was completely surrounded, and the only way we would make it back to the house would be to fight the Amish men who stood just behind Michael. Michael managed to look calm and reasonable, but the Amish men behind the angel looked like they were hoping for a fight.
One by one, my companions and I edged away from the building and stepped over to Michael as if he were a shield against the Amish, and I realized that he was. Without his determination to meet us, the men behind him would probably have already killed us, especially once word of Freya’s ears had spread. I glanced at the rabbit mutant, who managed to stand straight and look fierce, though more than one hate-filled look was cast her way.
“Come,” Michael instructed as he started to walk down the road.
We hesitated, but none of the Amish men moved, either. I looked at my friends, and after a nod from Darwin, we followed after the angel as he barreled through the snow. Our escort followed along as well, but no one said a word. The only sounds were the tramping of our boots through the snow and the flapping of the angel’s cloak.
When we reached the steps, Michael started up without a backward glance. I hesitated and looked toward the Amish, but none of them made a move to follow.
“Right,” I sighed. “You have to be invited.”
I saw two men nod at this observation, so I started up the steps. I heard Sorcha’s lighter steps follow behind me, then Freya and Darwin. I moved slowly, partly to put off our drink with Mi
chael, but also because the steps were icy despite the fact that someone had shoveled the snow. I wondered how Michael had been able to climb so quickly, then figured it was probably some of the wind magic like he had used to lift himself during the battle.
The angel stood by the door to his aerie when we finally made it to the top of the hill, and he waved us over with one imperious twirl of the wrist. He waited until the four of us had made it to the porch before he opened the door, though I was disappointed to see that he did so like anybody else would, by simply turning the knob.
Michael stepped inside first and clapped his hands. Several mage lights sprang to life in response, and I finally had my first glimpse of the angel’s house. As I had suspected, it was in far better condition than was suggested by the exterior. Though old, everything was spotlessly clean, from the mirrors that hung along the walls to the crystals that hung from the chandelier. There wasn’t a single speck of dirt on the rug, and the scent of fresh wax lingered in the air.
The only thing that caught me off guard were the two youths who helped the angel remove his cloak and armor. A boy and a girl, they looked enough alike to be brother and sister. Neither spoke, nor did they look in our direction.
“Wine in the solarium,” Michael instructed as he marched across the newly waxed floor.
The girl finally turned to look at us as the boy retreated beneath the stairs with the cloak and breastplate. She didn’t say anything, but she waited patiently as we slowly removed our jackets and turned them over. She gave us a brief nod once she had all our winter wear, then followed her almost-twin.
“No one said anything about Michael having kids,” Sorcha whispered as we crossed toward the room where we had seen the angel disappear. “And mages at that.”
“Maybe they come from the town,” I replied. “We were wondering what happened to any mages who were born here.”
