by Laura Bickle
I looked away as he did it, feeling dizzy. It was odd. I’d seen so much blood and violence, but this small thing made me squeamish. It was almost as if I’d walked back into the life of an ordinary girl when I’d stepped into Frau Gerlach’s clothes.
When we were released from our separate paddocks, Alex asked, “Are we through here?”
“I’m through with you,” Jasper said. “For now. But I suspect that these fellows will want to keep an eye on you.”
Simmonds stood between us and the door, flanked by two soldiers.
“Are we free to go? Or under arrest?” Alex’s hands balled into fists.
Simmonds shook his head. “You’re not under arrest. But please understand that I can’t let you run around unescorted.”
“But this is my home,” I said quietly.
“That may have been true,” Simmonds said. “But not anymore. This is just as much for your own protection as ours.”
“C’mon, Bonnet. Let’s go.” Alex grabbed my hand and led me by the hand past Simmonds, past the soldiers and the tank. The two men fell into step behind us. I could hear their boots clomping in the straw.
He dragged open the barn door and I stepped out into the night.
I could see a distant light burning on the first floor of my house.
Home.
I picked up my skirt and began to wade through the tall grass toward the light.
I was conscious of a sliver of moon overhead, of the chill slicing through the sleeves of my borrowed dress, of the soldiers and Alex behind me. I was aware of the dim glow I cast, brighter than the moon, as I sailed over familiar ruts and rills, startling a rabbit from its hiding place. I turned at the edge of the vegetable garden, dodged between bits of laundry on the line, barely registering that there were both Plain and military pants hanging out. I rushed up to the back step, my breath burning in the back of my throat and my heart knocking against my rib cage.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to rip open the door and plunge into the warmth that I knew was inside, to bask in that firelight I could see just through the window.
But another part of me knew that I might not be welcome.
I knocked on the screen door. It was a feeble, rattling sound, like bird bones in a can.
I waited, shifting from one foot to the other. I heard scraping inside, and the front door opened. I held my breath.
My mother’s silhouette appeared. She opened the screen door. In a flash, I saw her as she was now: gaunt, with a taut, worried expression on her face. Her eyes widened in horror. The door fell back with a hiss, and slammed against the frame.
I reached out to snatch the door handle. “Mother. Mother, it’s me.”
My gaze fell on my hand, glowing green in the darkness. I knew that she was afraid. The look on her face was the most heartbreaking thing I’d ever seen. In that instant, I don’t know what it was that she saw, whether she thought that I was an angel, as I had thought of Matt’s people. Did she think that I was something terrible come to her doorstep? Or, most horrifyingly, did she think that I was simply myself?
But I couldn’t step back and turn away. I couldn’t.
I wrenched the door handle back and lunged into the house after her. My mother backpedaled across the kitchen floor. She slammed against the table, knocking a bowl against the floor and shattering it.
“Mother, it’s me!”
Barking echoed, and I heard the clatter of dog claws on the hardwood floors. Two golden retrievers tackled me, and I stumbled backwards. Warm tongues washed my face, and I scrubbed my hands through their fur.
“Copper! Sunny!” I buried my face in Sunny’s ruff. Around my feet, smaller dogs milled. Her puppies, who had just been born when I’d been turned out, were now knee-high balls of russet fur with legs.
“Katie?” my mother whispered.
I disentangled myself from the dogs and stepped into the light of a gas lamp. I opened my arms. My eyes stung, fearful with the idea that she didn’t want me anymore.
She looked me up and down. In this light, I knew that my eyes no longer glowed. They looked like hers—gray like winter clouds. My skin had become opaque and milky. I was ordinary.
She reached toward me, choking on a sob. Her arms wrapped around me fiercely, so tight that I couldn’t breathe. My hands clasped her hard, and I felt her shoulders shake.
“Katie . . . is it really you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
And for that moment, everything was all right in my world. I was home. My mother was holding me, and I was weeping into her shoulder. I was five years old again, safe and secure.
“How is this possible, liewe?” she whispered, using her pet name for me—“dear.” She pulled back and pressed her hands to my cheeks. “Is it as they said . . . that the dead have risen up and that Christ is coming?”
I looked into her naked, open face, full of hope. And then I looked past her. My father was standing at the foot of the stairs, staring at me as if I were a ghost.
And then I understood. They had thought I was dead. They had thought that I had stepped Outside, been devoured. I felt a pang of grief at that, that they grieved for me. I took a step toward my father. “Father . . .”
He remained rooted in place, his eyes round and his lips unmoving.
A small figure scurried down the stairs, shoved past him, shrieking, with bonnet strings flying: “Katie, Katie!”
I fell to my knees and hugged Sarah. Her arms were tight around my neck, and she babbled into my shoulder, “Mother said that you had gone to heaven.” I felt her doll slapping against my back.
I shot a glance at my mother, in shock. That was a lie. I would not have gone to heaven if I were dead. I would simply have been caught out, become nothing, suspended between heaven and hell.
And that’s how I felt now.
My mother bit her lip and looked away. I felt the weight of my father’s gaze on all of us.
“Where have you been?” Sarah asked.
I kissed her cheek. “I went Outside.”
“On Rumspringa?” She frowned. “They said it’s dangerous Outside.”
“Yes. On Rumspringa.” I had to lie to her. If my parents hadn’t told her the truth of what had happened, I couldn’t bring myself to say it to her. “Seeing the Outside world.”
“Are there cars and trains and airplanes?”
“Not as many as you might think.”
“Sarah,” my father said. “Please go to your room for a little while. We have to talk to Katie.” His voice was constricted, as if it held unshed tears.
I clasped my little sister in my arms again, and then she reluctantly unwound herself from me. She solemnly handed me her rag doll. I remembered when my mother and I had made it for her, wound the yarn into the head and hand-sewn the now threadbare dress. We made it in the Amish fashion—with no face. No graven images.
I clutched the doll to my chest and watched Sarah climb the stairs.
We waited until the door slammed upstairs. My father glanced out the screen door. I knew that he could see the soldiers there. And Alex, glowing. One of them had offered him a cigarette. I had never seen him smoke before. It seemed odd seeing an angel smoke.
My mother drew me to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair for me. The dogs followed and sat down on the floor beside us. “Tell us what happened.”
I placed the doll in my lap. I took a deep breath and told her the story, from the time I’d set foot Outside, through the snakebite and losing Ginger, up through our time at the lake. I glossed over many of the violent details. But I think that she guessed, as she squeezed my hand during the pauses in my tale, when I could not find words.
“And we brought it with us. This . . . elixir that causes us to shine in the dark.”
I lapsed into silence at last, running my finger over an uneven seam I’d made in Sarah’s doll, along the arm. Copper had rolled over on my feet, warming them. He was snoring.
“You’re alive,” my mother said. “That’
s all that matters.”
I felt my father’s shadow over me. I looked up, desperately craving his approval. I wanted him to say that he loved me, that I could go upstairs to my room and sleep under my old quilt.
He bent down and gave me a hug. I heard a tremor in his chest, felt the prickliness of his beard against my cheek. He kissed my forehead.
He looked me levelly in the eyes. “I love you, my beloved daughter. And I always will. You have no idea how joyful that you being here makes me. But the Bann is still in place.”
I swallowed. I felt the bile of resentment rising in the back of my throat. I wanted my parents to welcome me with open arms, to forget the Bann.
But I remembered that they had turned me out. That they had not defied the Elders for me. That they had stood behind the gate and watched as Alex, Ginger, and I walked into the dangerous unknown. I knew that they loved me, but love only went so far in the light of faith.
I wanted them to love me more than God.
It was a selfish desire. Evil. But I still wanted that, more than anything. God felt so remote, after all I’d seen. I was here, standing in the kitchen before them. Alive and wanting them to accept me and forgive me for all the hard choices I’d made.
My father stepped away. He turned his back to me. I thought I saw a tremor in his shoulder.
“Father . . .” I began.
But he didn’t answer me. He simply disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.
I rose to my feet, Sarah’s doll slipping from my lap. My eyes blurred with tears. My mother came to me. I felt her arms around me, felt her sobbing.
“Mother.”
She kissed my cheek. I clung to her arms, but she too pulled away and disappeared into the darkness at the heart of the house.
I stood in the pool of light in the kitchen, sobbing. I reached down for Sarah’s doll, hugged it. The muslin felt wet under my cheek. I sat it upright in the chair I’d occupied, scrubbed my sleeve across my eyes.
The dogs looked up at me, their brown eyes uncomprehending. I knelt to throw my arms around them. They didn’t pull away. They didn’t understand the Bann or human Ordnung. I kissed Sunny’s forehead and rubbed Copper’s ears. Sunny whined, her tail slapping against the back of my legs.
Hiccupping, I straightened and reached for the door handle. I knew that Alex would hold me, that he would offer me some comfort. But it wouldn’t be the same.
And Alex wasn’t alone with the soldiers. There were black shadows there, circling them like birds. Shadows I recognized.
The Elders.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I paused on the threshold, half in the house and half out. The Bishop’s gaze fell heavy upon me. He could be kindly. I knew this, saw it in the crinkling around his eyes. But it had been a long time since he had showed me any kindness.
I could hear uncertain muttering among the Elders.
The Bishop’s gaze flicked from me to shining Alex and then to the dim soldiers. “These two are under the Bann. They have been shunned by us.”
The soldier shook his head, his hand resting on the holstered pistol at his waist. “Sir, with all due respect, we’re not concerned with your religious practices.”
“They are not to be here. They have been exiled from the community.”
Alex started forward. I rushed down the steps and caught his sleeve.
The soldier glanced at us. “Did they commit a crime?”
“They violated the rules of the Ordnung. They defied our authority. The girl brought an Outsider in, and they burned a house . . .”
“Which seems to be happening pretty damn frequently,” Alex spat.
The Bishop glared at him and appealed to the soldiers again. “They are subversive elements. They are not welcome here.”
I could feel the coldness emanating from the holy man. “Hey—” Alex started. But I knew he could not fight the Bishop with logic. I wound my fingers in his sleeve.
“Don’t,” I said. I lifted my chin. “We’ll leave.”
The other soldier rattled his rifle. “That’s not going to happen. We’ve got orders to keep them under guard.”
“They are not welcome,” the Bishop said. Murmurs of assent echoed behind him. “They must leave.”
Alex hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the soldiers. “So, these guys are guests, and we get the boot. Nice. Is it that they bring bullets and some pretty damn good protection? Or that you can’t say no to a bunch of armed guys with tanks?”
I could see red burning on the Bishop’s cheeks. “They are not like us . . . not human. No longer God’s creatures. Look at them.”
I closed my eyes. My eyelids glowed green, and I could feel the shade of my eyelashes on my cheeks.
“She risked everything to come back to you,” Alex argued. “To come back with a way to stop the vampires . . .”
I heard clicks from the soldiers’ rifles. “They come with us.”
I let Alex and the soldiers lead me away into the field. Behind me, I could see the light from my house, outlining the silhouettes of the Elders. I could feel their gaze on us as we retreated.
My heart breaking, I plunged into the dark, shining, casting no shadow.
***
The soldiers trusted us just as much as my own people did, but in a different way. Where the Plain people trusted in the invisible God, the soldiers believed only in what they could see and feel and measure.
And what they could watch.
They took us back to the stall where I’d been imprisoned. They brought us food, water, and blankets. Alex and I lay huddled together in the straw, much as we’d done before we’d been placed under the Bann, months ago. But back then, we didn’t have a guard posted outside the door. I fussed with a weak board at the bottom of the stall around which cold air leaked. I was certain that we could escape, if we wanted to. But there was nowhere to go.
“I’m sorry, Bonnet,” Alex said, putting his arms around me. I wondered what would be easier—to know as he did that his parents were likely dead, or to be dead to one’s own.
I cast my eyes down. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t not expect it.”
“It still sucks.” I could hear the anger in his voice, anger on my behalf.
“There’s a story that is told often by Plain people,” I began. “It’s from the Book of Tobit.”
“I don’t know that one.”
“It’s not part of the traditional canon,” I said. “It is not . . . official. It is part of our Bible, but I don’t think that it survived to more modern ones.”
“Apocryphal, then. Lost or cast out.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what that word meant until he told me, but it seemed to fit. “The book starts out talking about a righteous man, Tobit. Tobit’s calling was to give proper burial to murdered Israelites. He carried out this task the Lord had given him many midnights, and in secret. For that, his property was stripped from him by the king and he was exiled. A sparrow’s nest fell from the sky and blinded him.”
“Hnh.” I could feel his breath against my hair.
Emboldened, I continued. Alex had told me many of his stories. Now it was my turn to tell him one of mine. “Meanwhile, there was a woman, Sarah, who had lost seven husbands to a demon in Media. God charged the archangel Raphael with two tasks: healing Tobit and freeing Sarah from the demon.
“Tobit had a son, Tobias. Tobias had been charged by his father to go to Media and collect the money owed to Tobit by Sarah’s father. Raphael, disguised as a man, came to Tobias and told him of Sarah’s plight. Tobias was instructed by Raphael on how to drive the demon away. Then Tobias and Sarah were married.”
“Does that method apply to vampires?” Alex asked.
“I doubt it. It involved burning the liver of a fish. The gallbladder of the fish was used to restore Tobit’s eyesight. Raphael revealed himself and disappeared into heaven.”
Silence hung in the semidarkness, and I traced a glowing vein on the back of Alex’s hand with my finge
r. “The story is beloved by the Amish for its example of faithfulness and servitude to God. For perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds.”
He didn’t argue with me. He didn’t tell me that my people were showing poor faith, or that I had broken mine.
Instead, he just held me.
And that was enough for me for that moment. Not always, I knew. But for that moment.
The soldiers seemed not to sleep. They bustled around us. I drowsed against Alex’s shoulder, conscious of voices and discussion. At dawn, a sharp rap came at our stall door. A formality, but one I appreciated. I rubbed my eyes against the light leaking in from the chinks in the barn slats. I was, as always, relieved to survive to see morning, even if it was cold and I could smell frost.
“Come in.”
Simmonds came inside with Jasper the medic and one of the young soldiers who had guarded us. Jasper was holding the jar we’d brought with us.
Simmonds crouched down before us. There was an odd humility to that gesture. He pointed to the jar. “Will you tell us how to use that?”
Alex nodded and pulled himself out of the straw. “You have clean syringes?” he asked.
The medic held up plastic packages of needles. “And we have a volunteer.” His gaze flicked to the young solider. “Tobias.”
I sucked in a breath. I didn’t believe in omens. But it chilled me.
The young man stood before us, his posture ramrod straight and his hands behind his back, feet spread apart. I wasn’t sure if that was for our benefit or for Simmonds’s.
“It’s not an easy process,” Alex said. “You’ll get sick. Really sick. It feels like the flu times ten. It lasts for days.”
The man didn’t meet our eyes. He looked at the wall.
Simmonds nodded at him. “I understand, sirs, ma’am.”
Tobias extended his arm and Jasper opened the jar. He ripped open one of the packets and withdrew a shiny plastic syringe. He drew a bit of the culture into the syringe. “More?”
“A little bit. About one cc from the clear fluid on the bottom,” Alex told him.