Although there were some exceptions, their kind typically followed the traditional Amish ways of life. The Order seldom deviated from the laws of their faith. The elders especially found it easier to follow a simpler way of life without having to keep up with the ever-changing outside world. Living as Amish also provided the added benefit of privacy. The English had learned, over time, to ignore their presence, which was in their favor.
“If you are caught poaching from another farm, erase the mortal’s memory of you ever being there.” In a more severe tone, Adam’s grandfather warned, “Under no circumstances shall you assume that your metabolism will sustain on mere human food any longer. Your body is changing and will continue to need blood more and more until you find your mate. I suggest when you find her, you complete the bonding as soon as possible. She will eventually be your frau after all, so don’t waste time. You will have the rest of your life to make it up to her. Her presence is not enough to hold off the transitions your body will face. Only her blood will stop the decline of your mind.”
His grandfather glanced toward the dark window where the black night seemed to be fading to shades of gray with the approaching dawn. “Be mindful of the sun. Your tolerance will dwindle with each day that passes. Purchase a pair of sunspecs and keep your body covered as much as possible. You will find refuge in hotels. Do not depend on the charity of others. There is enough money there to pay your way. You cannot risk harming others. Doing so risks exposure and you never know how long you can put off the blood lust.”
Ezekiel placed a fat envelope on the table and pushed it toward Adam. “There is ten thousand dollars there. I believe it is more than you will need, but use it sparingly nonetheless. The English world is different than ours. If you find your mate elusive, there is enough there to purchase an automobile. That will allow you to track her faster. And finally, if you find yourself in danger or your baser instincts turning you feeish, send a message to this address.”
His grandfather slid a slip of paper across the overworked wooden table. There was a PO Box address written on it. At Adam’s confused look he explained, “I will do my best, if it comes to that, to prevent our family from losing another member. If you sense yourself becoming one of the unanswered, go to ground. Send message to me and I will find you. I will sedate you. Your father, Cain, and I will then continue your search for as long as we can without the council finding out. Use the journal I gave you to write down any clues about your mate you gain from the dreams. That will be our only guide to continuing your search, because at that point your mind will be too far-gone to trust even your family. She will be your only salvation.”
After Adam’s grandfather had finished giving instructions, it was already three in the morning. There was approximately four hours until dawn. Adam knew he had to be getting on his way. He bid his grandfather good-bye and was waiting by his mother’s bedside when his father approached.
“I was debating waking her,” Adam whispered quietly. “She looks so peaceful. I’d hate to wake her only to sadden her by saying good-bye. I don’t know how much more heartache I can stand to see in her eyes.”
Jonas lovingly pulled the covers around his wife’s shoulders. His eyes never left his wife as he addressed his son. “Your mother is strong. She is afraid of what she does not understand. She has never left the land and knows nothing about being called. Yet she is determined to love me as fiercely as any divinely mandated love. Why she has deemed me worthy of such affection all these years is beyond my comprehension, but I will gladly accept it as my fate.”
Although Adam’s parents were not blood bonded, there was no doubt in his mind that they were deeply in love and designed for each other. It was rare to hear his father speak of such things.
“Your mother loves you children as much as she loves me. She would die a thousand deaths before she would let anyone harm a hair on your body. It is difficult for her to watch you go into a world unknown to her, a world she cannot protect you from. But deep down, she knows it is right because it is for love.”
“Father, I will find my mate because she is the only key to my survival, but love? I do not see how a man can assume such things about a stranger.”
“You will love her, Adam. It is God’s plan. He has created her for you. I am sure no matter how unexpected she seems, she will be perfect for you.”
“How will I know where to go?”
“You will go as far as you can. Travel in the shadows of night. Leave yourself enough time to find shelter by dawn. At that point you will sleep. Do not press yourself. Sleep is important. From what I understand, the dreams will unravel the mystery that is your mate. You must sleep in order to find her. When you wake, you will know which direction to follow.”
Adam and his father sat in silence over his mother’s bed for several long moments. Finally, unable to disturb her peace, Adam placed a kiss on her silky hair. “You will tell her I love her and that I will return as soon as possible?”
“Of course.”
When Adam finally left the farm, there was less than three hours until dawn. He was not used to worrying about daylight, but his body was already changing and he would be a fool not to heed his elders’ advice. Tomorrow he would purchase a pair of sunspecs as well as a sack for his clothing. His suitcase was not conducive to fast travel.
Prior to leaving the farm, he drank from a young calf. He was gentle and careful not to take too much. The calf provided just enough.
Now, his metabolism was greedily burning the sustenance the calf had offered, and his strength was peaking. He was roughly traveling thirty miles an hour on foot and was able to bound up the mountainsides in leaps nearing fifteen feet. As he crested one steep mountain, he saw the first ribbons of pink reaching over the horizon. Dawn would be there within the hour. He stood, shading his eyes at the top of the mountain as he circled around looking for the closest town. He was not far from a major highway and could see a nearby rest stop.
Chapter 3
“Late, late, late, late, late, late, late,” Annalise mumbled to herself as she rushed through the parking lot. Of course her car would be in the far back of lot G where it had been baking in this scorching sun for the past six hours and was probably now a steaming thousand degrees. She did a goofy jog-walk through the aisles of cars at Med Tech as she rummaged through her backpack for her keys, sidestepping the patched cracks that oozed with gummy, melting tar. It was so hot the horizon of the asphalt seemed to wobble, gasses emitted by the heat forming low mirages in the distance.
When she reached her car, she wedged the key into the small scratched slot, careful not to touch the metal door with her fingers. Hastily she leaned in and stuck the key in the ignition. The car roared to life, and the smell of the musty, worn interior was replaced with the fumes of gasoline. Leaving the door open, she pressed the button to roll down the window. The mechanism gave a half-hearted groan and the window hummed as it rolled partially down then fell off track. “Crap.”
Quickly climbing over the armrest, she rolled down the passenger window, thankfully that window went all the way down, and quickly climbed out of the car. She removed her student ID from her smock and stuck it in the front pocket of her bag. She then reached into her back seat for her Jimbo’s T-shirt. For modesty’s sake, she ducked behind the open driver’s side door and finagled her arms inside of her smock, reaching them into the sleeves of the T-shirt. With absolutely no grace, she yanked the neck of the T-shirt under the collar of her smock and over her head. Taking one last moment to adjust her clothing to make sure no skin was exposed and a boob didn’t suddenly pop out, she removed the smock and tossed it in the back seat.
The car was still a million degrees, but she had to get moving. Taking one last breath, she climbed into the stifling vehicle. The worn upholstery chaffed and burned her thighs right through the thin fabric of her scrub pants. She ignored her seatbelt, too afraid to touch the metal buckle, and backed out of her parking space.
At the traffic light by the parking l
ot exit she played with the dials on the console. Her car’s air conditioner hadn’t worked for over two years, but she still tampered with it every day. Finally, she gave up and pressed a cassette into the tape deck. Sure, most people had surpassed CDs and moved into the age of iPods, but Annalise liked to think of herself as vintage. Besides, she was too broke to buy a CD player for her piece-of-crap car. It was a ninety-two Chevy Beretta. The windows worked when they wanted to, the passenger door never unlocked, and her rear taillight was covered in duct tape. She secretly referred to the car as the Steaming Turd but would never say it out loud. She couldn’t afford to offend the car. She needed it to keep running for just a few more months until she finished school and got a job as a medical assistant. At that point she would have a more-dependable income and be able to finance a newer automobile.
Her speakers moaned what at first sounded like a slow motion war call and then fell into the normal tempo of Elton John’s greatest hits. She would have to remember to keep her cassettes under the seat on hot days so they didn’t keep melting. When the light changed to green, traffic eagerly poured onto the freeway. She made it about a quarter mile then traffic slowed to a sluggish crawl that would keep up for the next few miles of intersections every three hundred feet.
By the third light her mood had improved substantially. She ignored the looks neighboring drivers gave her as she belted out the chorus of Tiny Dancer. There were two weeks left until graduation. She had completed her lab and now just needed to study for finals and turn in her final project. She had started E-filing her resume with local doctor’s offices. At twenty-three she was falling nicely into the second year of her five-year plan.
Annalise hoped to get a job with her degree by the end of September. By October she hoped to turn in her waitress apron at Jimbo’s. And by May, when her lease was up, she hoped to get out of her cockroach-infested apartment complex and move to a nicer area. Sometime in the middle of all that, she would be replacing the Steaming Turd as well.
For a Thursday night Jimbo’s was hopping. The corner sports bar was a fixture along Street Road that somehow managed to stay afloat during all the redevelopment that had taken place in the past decade. There were bigger and better bars in the area, but Jimbo’s catered to a specific clientele. The torn pleather stools of this saloon were reserved specifically for the regulars. Usually those regulars showed up wearing denim jackets and grisly, graying beards. They liked to use the F word and play darts. Jimbo’s never kept any fancy beers on tap because the regulars stuck pretty much to the same menu year-round, hardly even opting for a light beer. No, light beer was too girly. These men were men.
Her evening usually consisted of flirting with men twice or three times her age, emptying ashtrays, refilling drink orders, and delivering plates of greasy food to booths. Once in a while a younger crowd would come in appearing lost. She preferred the older crowd. The regulars didn’t overtip, but they took care of her, where the younger patrons just stopping by were notorious for stiffing their waitress.
As Annalise pressed through the heavy wooden door, she suffered a moment of sun blindness. Her eyes adjusted as her flesh cooled, welcoming the tobacco-scented air conditioning. Stashing her bag under the bar, she said a quick hey to Kyle and ran to the bathroom to change into her shorts and tie her apron.
By six o’clock the kitchen was bustling and she had nine tables. She navigated her way through the bar in a way that weaved her in and out of crowds so she could check on all her customers. After the dinner rush passed, the pool tables and dartboards occupied the patrons. ZZ Top played from the jukebox, and a low roar of chatter filtered through the smoky air. Every once in a while, someone would score points at either darts or pool and there would be a rumbling of cheers.
By nine o’clock the crowd had thinned and most customers idled around the bar watching the game. At this point Kyle took care of most orders and Annalise could focus on the tavern’s housekeeping. She wiped down tables, replaced napkins in the napkin caddies, and swept under the booths. Deciding to take her break, she went into the kitchen and dropped some chicken tenders into the fryer then went to the bar to pour herself a Coke.
As she sipped her soda and waited for her chicken to cook, she leaned her hip against the counter and chatted with Kyle. All drinks were full for the moment, and the customers seemed to be engrossed in the game. “Busy today,” she commented.
“Yeah, Buck said they just finished up some big roofing job.”
“Roofing in this heat, yuck!”
“Well, your tips should be good. Bar tabs were running all over the place tonight. How was school?”
“Good. I can’t believe I’m almost done.”
“Do you think—” Kyle’s question was interrupted by the timer in the kitchen.
“That’s my chicken. I’m starving.”
After her break she tidied up some more. Around ten o’clock she had settled into the back booth and concentrated on filling saltshakers and ketchup bottles. The sound of the front door slamming didn’t even register. The background noise of the television muted, and she smiled as the jukebox kicked on. Those first few bouncy chords of The Crystals’s “Then He Kissed Me” were followed by a bar rag being tossed in her direction.
Annalise giggled as Kyle sauntered over to her, his shoulders swaying to the tune of the music. He wore a boyish grin that went well with his rugged blue jeans and fitted white T-shirt. His sandy-blond hair, cut close to his head, seemed browner in the dimly lit room and through the haze of lingering smoke. Without a word he continued his swagger right to her booth.
He reached for her and asked her if she wanted to dance just as the song said. She stood, taking his hand, and he whirled her around the empty bar. They laughed and danced as the song played on. At the final “and then he kissed me” Kyle dipped her and smiled as he planted a sweet kiss on her lips.
“You ready to go, babe?”
“Whenever you are,” she said without taking her lips from his.
Chapter 4
The hum started again and Adam stared at the metal grates, amazed, as a breeze of chilled air blew into his face. Fascinating. He wondered how the mechanism worked. Did it somehow involve ice? There were all kinds of interesting things that occupied his time as he waited for the sun to set. For instance, one amenity that captured his attention was the switch in the washroom that turned on no lights but instead triggered some sort of humming device attached to the ceiling. It didn’t expel air like the contraption he was looking at now. He couldn’t figure out what the washroom vent was used for. Perhaps it was just a noisemaker.
He had found lodging at a hotel owned by a man named Howard Johnson. The rooms were grand with two large beds. In the corner there was a round table and a chair that rolled. The washroom had running water that heated on its own and a tub with a rainspout. The floors were covered and there was even a telephone and television similar to the ones he spotted in some of the shops in town. Although Amish were not permitted to have electrical lines running to their homes, Adam had read that some sects possessed a telephone shed where members could make calls in an emergency. However, his order had no such luxury.
When Adam arrived, he’d placed his hat on the bed and hung his clothes in the closet. Too tired to explore the new environment, he simply shut the curtains and collapsed into bed. He slept soundly until someone who thought his name was Housekeeping woke him up. As politely as he could, being half asleep, he explained to the small woman that his name was Hartzler, not Housekeeping, and shut the door. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but the woman had woken him from a dream.
Oddly enough, the dream took place back on the farm. A quilt Adam recognized as one his sister Larissa had sewn many years ago lay in a patch of sunlight on the lush, green lawn of an unworked field. Again, he could not make out his mate’s appearance. She was merely a beacon of soft light warming his side. They lazed in the sunshine, surrounded by the scent of honeysuckle, yet there had been no sign of
the vine.
Adam rested on his back, draping his arm over his eyes, and smiled. His mate rested on her belly to his left and hummed a song he did not recognize as a Christian hymn or an English work song. She cradled a young barn kitten in her arms and teased it with a lock of her hair.
Her hair had been the most radiant shade he had ever seen. He had heard that sometimes the English changed the color of their hair using a type of wash and wondered if his mate had done such a thing. Long and flaxen brown, her hair appeared ordinary, but once out in the sunshine, shocks of red and gold glimmered throughout. He had no idea what such a color was called. It was more rust colored than orange, more bronze than brown.
He knew it was against their faith to take such pride in her beautiful tresses. The Bible stated that if long hair is a glory to a woman, it shall be covered. Yet he continued to be as mesmerized with it as the kitten.
He was fascinated with the way it coiled around his fingers. It seemed alive, the way he could pull it tight and it would spring back in to a curl the moment it was released. It was softer than silk and as glossy as a starling. He simply twirled it through his fingers as she hummed and sang to the kitten.
Her voice was light and tinkling, almost kintish, childlike. She was not a singer by gift but because she found pleasure in the words. He listened as her song became a beautiful sonnet of love and time. The words crested past her lips and tickled his ears in between small bouts of humming. “There is no one who compares with you. And these memories lose their meaning when I think of love as something new…” She hummed for a moment, and nestled her cheek against his fingertips. “I know I’ll often stop and think about them, in my life I love you more.”
“That’s beautiful,” Adam heard himself whisper.
“Have you never heard The Beatles before?”
“I know what a beetle is.”
“Not the bug.” She giggled, another magical sound she often made. “The band. They were an English rock band formed in Liverpool during the 1960s. They were quite famous. Still are. That song is called ‘In My Life.’ It’s one of my favorites.”
Called to Order [The Order of Vampyres 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 4