Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (20 page)

“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 Hostetler 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.

As Larissa slept, her chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. Her breasts swelled beneath the covers. Soft. He wondered if the tips of her breasts were dark like his own skin, pale and pure like a lily’s petals, or deep crimson like the natural shade of her full lips. The thought had his body hardening and he became aware of his male scent filling the empty room.

Larissa’s lashes fluttered and he wondered if she was waking. Would she be disgruntled to find him there? Most likely. He casually stepped back, not wanting to alarm her with his presence. She stretched, long and slow like a cat. Her feminine fingers fisted and pressed high above her head. He thought she would wake, but she simply snuggled deeper under the warmth of the covers. He suddenly felt oddly jealous of the blanket covering her flesh. He would bet her flesh was warm and soft, hot in her most secret places.