by Leanna Ellis
“Hello?” came the voice from the buggy. A male voice.
Making his voice panicked and weak, Akiva called back. “Can you help?”
“Ja, sure. Let me pull off the road.” A click of a tongue and slap of reins encouraged the horse to the side of the roadway.
Akiva moved forward then, and the horse began bobbing its head.
“Easy,” the man in the buggy said. He swung down from his seat. “Did you have a car wreck or car trouble?”
“Something like that,” Akiva answered.
“It was an accident,” a feminine voice came out of the dark, and then Camille stepped into the circle of golden lantern light.
A cold sense of dread washed over Akiva. What did she want? To ruin his plans? To destroy his future?
Her eyes glowed darkly, and her long black hair hung about her shoulders like a mini cape. She was dressed for New Orleans’ weather, not Pennsylvania cold, but of course Akiva knew the biting chill disturbed her as little as it did him. But he could see the Amish man giving her an odd look, as if he considered her a foolish Englisher.
“We were just driving along and the car died.” Camille gestured behind her toward the Miller Cemetery, then walked toward Akiva, her mouth pulling sideways in a confident smile. “I can’t imagine what could be wrong with it.”
“I don’t know anything about car engines,” the Amish man said, “but I was headed toward my wife’s parents’ house. Their neighbors are Mennonite and have a phone. You could call someone from there.”
“Oh, how perfect. I’m Camille. And you are?”
“Josef. Josef Nussbaum.”
Camille slipped her arm through Akiva’s and she snuggled against him, smiling up at him. “Isn’t Josef just the nicest to help us out this way? That’s what I’ve written my friends about Promise. We’ve discovered just the nicest folks here. Haven’t we, ma cherie?”
A low guttural growl emanated from Akiva’s throat, an instinctive response to her encroachment. “What are you doing here?”
Camille touched his chest. “Helping you.”
Why did he doubt that?
The Amish man took a step back, bumping into the horse, which snorted.
Camille snapped her attention toward him, dipped her chin low and cooed. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Chapter Sixty-four
The wind howled through the trees, a lonely, forlorn sound that caused a shiver down Hannah’s spine. The long branches of a willow whipped and waved, and leaves fluttered to the ground, skittering and twirling in utter surrender to the elements. Hannah’s hands and limbs trembled, but not from the cold. Fear shook her from the inside out.
After Levi left to return to the barn, she’d entered her father’s house but had not gone to her bedroom. She’d crept to the other side of the house, lifted the side window in the sitting room where she wouldn’t be seen by Levi or Roc, and left the house, her family, and Levi behind.
Only she could end this. Only she could make Akiva understand.
Where was he? How could she find Jacob? Or Akiva? Or could she? Was it even possible? All the times she’d spent with Akiva had been when he sought her out, found her, came to her. On the road. In the barn. The cemetery. He always found her somehow, as if he had an ability to see where she was. She had no idea where he stayed, slept, or spent his time. Maybe she should have asked those questions. So many maybes led her backwards instead of forwards, and she was ready to move ahead now and leave the past in the past. Shouting for him would do no good. But in her mind, she called out to him. “Jacob! Akiva? Come to me. Please.”
But there was no response. On the road only her footsteps were accompaniment to the steady swish of the wind and beat of her heart, where she should have heard his voice, felt his presence, but now she sensed only a vacancy.
Her flashlight wove back and forth and jiggled ahead of her as she followed the asphalt that led to the cemetery. When she arrived among the silent stones, she climbed the fence and traversed the uneven ground, moving through rows of graves to the one place she hoped Akiva would come.
But a noise stopped her, and she strained her ears. The snuffling, burrowing sound came from up ahead. She swept the light over the tops of the leaning granite stones, and it slid past a large lump. She jerked the light back until the round glow illuminated a dark shaped object. Fear welled up within her. What was it? Should she have brought Levi? Even Roc? What if there was a wounded deer? Or some other wild animal? After all, it was hunting season.
But then the dark mass shifted, turned, and a pale face with dark, glinting eyes turned and stared at her. Those eyes fixated on her, bore into her.
Jacob.
No, not Jacob.
Akiva.
She took three steps toward him, relief pulsing through her, until she heard a growl rumbling from deep in his throat. His mouth was wet and gleaming. Behind him, something twitched and moved. A leg. But not a spindly deer’s leg. This was a man’s leg, covered in dark cloth, the shoe plain and tilted far to the side. Once more, she stopped, her legs suddenly wooden. Her heart lurched in her chest.
Akiva rose from his position on the ground, his shoulders hunched slightly until he straightened fully. His movements were slow and sure as he took one step and then another in her direction. His path, however, was not straight but curving outward, as if to come at her from a different angle or to turn her from the sight of the man lying on the ground. Was he hurt? Wounded? Dead?
Akiva licked his lips and swiped his arm over the lower portion of his face, smearing what she now saw was blood.
A trembling took hold of her and shook her from the inside out until she thought she would fall to the ground, unable to stand. “What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded distant, odd, as if it was not really her speaking. She gestured toward the man. “What’s wrong with him?”
“You wanted me here, didn’t you? You called to me.”
So he had heard her.
“Yes, but…This is…” Her voice faltered, trembled, and the words wouldn’t come, and she took a step back. “Should I get help?”
“No.” His voice was firm, commanding.
Her gaze shifted toward the man, and the leg twitched again, kicked out in a weak impotent way. “What are you doing?”
“This is how I survive.” He emphasized the last word.
“But it’s—”
“Is killing a cow so different? Or a pig or goat? You must eat too.” He took another step closer.
“This is a man…a person…someone’s…” She stared as the man struggled to sit up. The flashlight struck him in the face but he was too dazed to even flinch, and she almost dropped it. Josef. A gash in his neck bloodied his white shirt, which matched the paleness of his face. “…someone’s husband…father.”
Jacob cut her off, angled her away from Josef. “You don’t want me to die, do you, Hannah?”
She shook her head.
“You prayed for whatever it would take to bring me back. Well this is what it took. Your prayer has been answered. Now are you going to reject the very thing that gives me strength? That gives us the ability to be together?” He walked past her, turning her toward him, like the moon trailing the earth. “There is power in the blood. Power that I need.” He came to a stop and stared down at her, moonlight flooding one side of his face and slanting shadows across the other side, revealing distortions in his features, in his soul. “And I know the secret of that power.”
“Secret?”
“It will give us, you and me, a life together. Forever. Isn’t that what you want too, Hannah? Isn’t that what you have prayed for? Yearned for?”
Fear trapped her in its steely jaws and held her frozen in this place when all she wanted was to run. Run for help for Josef. Run for Levi. “What have you become?”
“A vampire.” His ton
e was as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “It is not some crazy notion in fantasy novels or the movies, Hannah. It’s real. I’m real. The old, old stories and myths are true.” He leaned toward her, his voice only a whisper. “Everyone has always wanted to find the fountain of youth. Well, I have. It pumps within each human.”
She took a step backward, her head still shaking, her body trembling, but he stayed her retreat with a hand on her arm, a solid band of resistance. “This isn’t right, Jacob…Akiva.” Her voice cracked on the name. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”
He bracketed her arms, and she felt the strength in his hands rattle her bones. It was useless to run, fight, or attempt escape. Would he hurt her? Jacob would not have. But this truly was no longer Jacob. Her Jacob was dead. Now, this Akiva lived.
“Where am I?” Josef spoke behind her, his voice weak as a mewling kitten. “Rachel?”
Hannah tried to turn but Akiva held her firmly. “It’s okay, Josef. I will help you.”
Akiva laughed. “Will you now? Or will you help yourself to him so that you can really live? This is how we can live together, Hannah. Forever. Just imagine. We can go anywhere. We can be together, as you and I have always dreamed.”
She stared into Akiva’s black eyes. “You must let him go. It’s Rachel’s husband. You know Rachel! She needs Josef. They’re going to have a baby. Please…Jacob, for me….”
“It is for you, sweet Hannah.” One hand held her upper arm, but the other snaked up over her shoulder and cupped the side of her neck. “He is for you.” His gaze shifted downward, studied her neck, and his lips parted. “This will not be difficult. Trust me. Soon, you will feel the strength of a thousand.” He took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “You will see as you never have before. You will feel so much more.” His thumb slid along the length of her windpipe, caressing or threatening she wasn’t sure. “It is all for us.”
Chapter Sixty-five
Roc watched Levi pace along the side of the Schmidt farmhouse. All of the animals had been secured in the barn. The Schmidt family was in their house. Only Roc and Levi were out here freezing their butts off. What was the blasted man waiting for? He tried to wrap his brain around the man’s thinking…that Amish thinking.
It is God’s will.
We must trust in the Almighty.
It will all work according to His will.
But faith and trust had never come easily to Roc. What was he supposed to trust in as a kid? That Daddy wouldn’t lick him with a belt? That the old man wouldn’t push his mom around? That she would finally stand up to her husband?
She had prayed. The beads on her rosary were worn, the paint on the wooden beads long since rubbed away. She would sit in her chair and stare out the front window of their run-down house, all the while clicking those beads, her lips moving in the rhythm of the prayers. Obviously the saints weren’t listening because nothing ever changed. She gave Roc a St. Christopher medal to wear around his neck when he was just a kid, then a St. Michael medal when he became a cop. But he didn’t believe in superstitions and hocus pocus, Hail Mary and holy water.
He didn’t believe in anything. Not anymore.
But then he had seen evil, not like from one of those slasher movies, not kids dressed in goth style or whatever they called it these days. No, he’d seen pure, undiluted evil, minus all the façades and illusions. He’d looked into its black heart.
Evil existed. But what about the yin of that yang? Was there a polar opposite, a good to counter the bad, a holy to the unholy? Imagining that there was some benevolent all-good creator was much more difficult for Roc to comprehend. That God had never rescued or saved his mother. And God certainly hadn’t saved Emma.
Once more he clamped down on the emotions that rose up inside him, hot and fierce with volcanic intensity. His jaw tightened. But he couldn’t hold back the explosion of emotion, and his fist smacked a post. Again and again. Then he grabbed the post and held on to it as he punched his emotions back down. He focused on his stinging knuckles, the grains of wood, the solidness of the post. It took every bit of focus to restrain the emotions. He wouldn’t succumb to them. He couldn’t. He had something more important to do.
He pushed away from the barn and stalked toward Levi. “What are you doing?”
The Amish man whirled around, his gaze peaceful and calm. Unrattled. But he should be rattled. He should be scared. Roc wanted to shake him, shake some sense or fear into him.
“What are you doing?” Roc’s tone sharpened.
“Praying. Thinking. Waiting.”
“All the praying in the world isn’t gonna stop this showdown. Get the girl. We’ll follow her, keep her in sight, and then when Akiva approaches, we’ll at least have a chance.”
“I will not put her in harm’s way. How can you stop Jacob from harming her?”
“I have a theory.”
“A theory?” Levi crossed his arms over his chest. “I am supposed to put her life on the line for a theory?”
“Okay, look, the bloodsuckers can disappear. Have you noticed?”
Levi glanced sideways, as if remembering, and gave a slight nod. “When Jacob first changed…when I found him…that’s what happened. He just vanished. I couldn’t understand or—”
“Exactly.” Roc nodded. “I don’t know how they do it, but I do know that they can’t vanish if something has a hold on them. So if you’re touching them, they can’t do their disappearing act. If they’re bound, chained, even by a rope, they can’t disappear.”
“Roc,” Levi’s voice dipped low as he said, “I do not want Jacob harmed.”
Roc cursed. “Of course you don’t. But then you haven’t seen what he’s done. Maybe then you’d change your mind.”
“I have seen plenty, but I won’t—”
“It’s not your choice. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of him. So get the girl. Where is she?”
“Sleeping. Tonight is not the night for this…showdown. Go on home, Roc, or to wherever you are staying. At the boarding house? I will watch for anything.”
“And then what? What would you do?”
“Whatever I have to do.”
“Would you really?” Roc stood less than a foot away from Levi, the heat of his breath frosting the air between them. “We should set a trap for Akiva. It’s the only way.”
“I will not use Hannah as bait.”
“Who would you use then? Who else…who else would he come for?” Roc placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “This is our one chance, our only opportunity. We will protect her, I promise you that. But it is the only way. We must lure Akiva to us, then we can make sure he doesn’t bother Hannah or anyone else again.”
“I will not set my brother up to be murdered.”
“He is the murderer.” The words hissed through Roc’s teeth. “Don’t you get it?”
Levi stepped away from Roc, rubbed a hand along his neck. Without looking at Roc, he gave a confirming nod. “I will help you.”
“It’s the only way, my man. The only way.”
Chapter Sixty-six
Akiva held out a hand toward Hannah.
It was a compulsion that she couldn’t seem to resist. Trembling, she laid her palm against his. Slowly, his fingers folded over hers. “Hannah, you can call me Jacob if that feels more comfortable.”
“Wh-why did you change your name?”
He stared down at their fingers pressed against each other. “Because I changed. Irrevocably. And yet, a part of Jacob still lives here.” He touched the back of her hand to his chest. “That’s the love Jacob had for you. And that I have now.”
“Jacob…” She tasted the name on her tongue, a name that she had loved for so long, and yet what was once sweet had turned sour.
She stared at his chest and wondered if there really was a part
of Jacob inside him, buried deep. She couldn’t imagine the boy she’d known and loved killing someone or doing any of the things Roc accused him of. But then there was the wound he’d had when he first came to her in the cemetery, a serious wound. She locked gazes with the man who had deceived her, a man she no longer recognized, knew, or trusted. “How did you get hurt?”
He shrugged. “It was nothing. It is gone.”
“But—”
“Do you know how people stared at us in our plain clothes? Staring at the Amish with curiosity? Some even made fun of us.”
She nodded, knowing the looks like they were caged animals in a zoo, as visitors filed by, trying to peer into their lives. Thankfully most of her encounters with the English had been pleasant, but she had heard stories of far worse encounters. She didn’t understand the fascination Englishers had about their plain lives. They were simply plain. What was interesting about that? Was it that the Englishers were so dissatisfied with their own busy lives? Or was it just a passing fancy for most? “But,” she said, “what does that have to do with your wound? Did some tourist hurt you?”
“No, sweet Hannah. There are some who hate you, just because you are Amish, just because you stand for what you believe and live it out each day. Your ancestors were tortured and killed because of their beliefs. Outsiders did not understand your faith. Even today, there are those out there who would harm you if given the chance. They fear you, what you stand for, what you are, because it might cause them to make some sacrifice that is normal in your life.
“And it is the same for me now. Because I am different.” His hand smoothed over the leather jacket covering his chest. “And there are some who hate me because of that. Some fear me. Some would cause me harm.”
“And that’s what happened? Someone tried to hurt you?”
He nodded. “But it is not easy to fatally wound me.” He chuckled. “And you will be strong like me too. You do not have to worry. I will protect you.”
“That is not—”