Forsaken (23 page)

It was the girl.

The vampire had come for the girl, Hannah. Roc figured it out from Levi's behavior, running from the party to the Schmidt farm, and from talking to the Amish teens once he'd plied them with liberal amounts of beer. Then they remembered how Levi's brother died under bizarre circumstances.

“They buried him.” Joshua stretched out on the ground.

“Isn't that how it's usually done?” Roc had asked as the fire crackled behind him. “Bury the dead? Even in Promise?”

Luke shook his head. “Not before the community even knows.”

“Or the body is embalmed,” Zachariah finished.

Roc leaned forward and looked at each of the boys. “So when was this?”

Caleb yawned. “About a year ago.”

Adam kicked Caleb's foot. “More like two.”

“Were the cops…police called?” Roc asked.

The boys looked at him. Caleb shook his head and said, “Why would we do that?”

“Because, what if a crime had been committed?”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “No
English
crime. It was an accident. Still, very odd.”

Zachariah nodded. “Lots of rumors went round the district.”

“What did Levi say?”

“Nothin'.” Luke swigged his beer. “Not even to the elders. My pop was one that went and spoke to Levi, questioned him. Because, see, Levi's family moved off right after Jacob died. Just up and moved.”

“Which don't happen much 'round here,” Joshua added.

Roc looked back to Luke. “And what did Levi say?”

“Just that there was an accident with one of the saws. Jacob died. And his folks were so torn up over it that they moved.”

Roc did a few algebraic problems in his head, adding in a few variables, and came up with his best guess, which brought him back to the Schmidt farm.

From the road, he adjusted his binoculars and watched Hannah hang laundry on the line. She wasn't really a girl—by the looks of her, more woman than anything else—and still she struck Roc as not much more than a child. Maybe it was the innocence that seemed wrapped around these Amish that made them appear so young when they were fully grown.

She was pretty, though not in the worldly way Roc had become accustomed to in New Orleans. With her hair pulled back in that predictable bun, he could see the shape of her face, framed by her prayer
kapp
, both resembling a heart. Her eyes were large and luminous. Even beneath that shapeless dress and apron that looked like every other Amish woman, her womanly shape couldn't be hidden. Even from a distance, he could see that any man, Amish or
English
, would find her attractive.

It was easy to see Levi loved her in the same gut-wrenching, head-scrambling way that had tormented Roc since the day he'd met Emma, which felt like a lifetime removed from where he was today. He'd had eight years with her, and nearly two without—such a short time to live a lifetime in moments of tenderness and passion, and such a long time in agony. Emma's blue eyes could flash with irritation or soften with gentleness. “Roc,” she'd say, then hum the Bob Seger tune, which always made him smile. But she'd been his rock, what he'd leaned on during their marriage, and he'd sunk hard and fast the day she died.

Watching Levi now, purpose and desperation in each of his steps as he walked from house to barn, Roc pitied him. Because the woman Levi loved was wanted, desired, craved by an animal. Because Levi might lose his woman before he ever had any time with her at all. Because his woman was going to force him to make a difficult choice.

Not a choice Roc would find difficult. But an Amish man? A man who believed in peace and love? Roc had learned killing was often necessary. Would Levi learn the same lesson? Or would he let Hannah go? And would Roc have to kill her too, to keep her from becoming one of
them
?

Akiva used to stalk his prey late at night in a random, haphazard manner.

But now, as soon as the sun set, he began. During the day, he chose his prey, learned their habits and ways, their simple routines, so when he was ready to strike, it proved to be a simple, effortless kill.

When he first experienced the change, he fed himself infrequently, holding out, praying he wouldn't need to feed, but the hunger always overwhelmed him, and then he acted recklessly, foolishly. Then he went through a time when he toyed with his prey, stringing out a kill, enjoying the anticipation, like some sick game. Now, he performed it quickly and perfunctory, treating it more like a chore. In order to keep his hunger under control these days, he filled himself more often, so when he was with Hannah he wasn't overwhelmed or tempted beyond his endurance.

Hannah.

Controlling his hunger around her was painful. He wanted her. Needed her. Craved her. The very beat of her heart called to him.

But he had another in mind tonight. Another that would quench his thirst and solve his problem—Levi.

From shadows, Akiva watched the barn where Levi worked, and he planned his attack. On Levi's drive home, he would meet a stranger. A stranger he actually knew very well. Akiva had not yet decided if he would reveal himself to Levi or not; he'd learned no one he had known in his previous life recognized him in his changed state. He had the ability to conceal himself as a hunter camouflages himself. But it might be more satisfying if Levi were aware of his true identity. Even though much of Jacob had changed, including his name, he still felt much as he always had, still clung to bits of himself that other bloods no longer seemed to value, things like love, especially first love. Which gave him the answer. When there was nothing Levi could do to stop him, Akiva would tell Levi his plans for Hannah and feed on Levi's fear and jealousy. It would be most gratifying.

It was fully dark when Levi led a horse from the barn toward his buggy. But he was not alone. Another man walked beside him, watching as Levi settled the harness and hooked the horse to the buggy. The stranger, another Amish man, with the same plain clothes and bowl-shaped haircut, was not familiar to Akiva. The big burly fellow climbed onto the buggy seat next to Levi, and they sat there together in silence.

Who was he? Why was he there?

A wintry anger settled over Akiva. His temperature dropped almost instantly. He whirled away from the sight of Levi and stormed across the countryside ravaging any animal he could, growing stronger and warmer with each. And yet a coldness remained inside him.

Until he saw a man standing on the roadside, a backpack slung onto his back. He walked with his head downward, his gaze on his worn-out shoes.

Akiva joined him, matching his footsteps. “Hello.”

The man glanced at Akiva, his drawn face full of exhaustion and disappointment. He wore several days' growth of whiskers and smelled of sweat upon sweat. “What's it to you?”

“Mind if I join you? I could use a little company and it looks as if we're going in the same direction.”

“You going nowhere too?”

“Maybe. I'm Akiva.”

“Weird name.”

“Some might think that.”

“You Jewish or what?”

“No.”

“Good. Don't like 'em. Don't like blacks neither. Or them Mexicans who are taking over.”

“As you can see I'm not black or Mexican.”

“Yeah. You're too pale, that's for sure. Fact is I don't like people. I'm a loner.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah? What's your beef?”

“I don't fit in. How about you?”

“Never have.”

Akiva nodded his understanding. “What's your name?”

“Frank. Frank Robbins. I don't shake hands.”

“All right by me.”

Together they walked along in silence, just their footsteps carrying on a conversation as they traversed blacktop and the pebbly dirt that butted up against the road.

“You in a hurry?” Akiva asked.

“For what?”

“You keep moving forward when it looks like you'd rather get a good night's sleep.”

“Yeah, and where's that gonna happen?”

“There's a motel up around the bend. I've got a few bucks and I know the gal at the desk. She's got a soft heart. She lets me stay if they're not full up.”

The older man eyed him. “You one of them fruitcakes?”

“What are you asking?”

“You a homo?”

Akiva chuckled. “No. I like women. One particular woman actually.”

“Then why ain't you with her?”

Akiva shrugged. “Some things take time.”

“What? Don't she love you back?”

Akiva's jaw hardened. “She will. I promise you that.”

“Yeah, I heard that song before.”

“So how about it?”

“Just as long as you know I got a switchblade and know how to use it if you get funny. I ain't no bitch for any dog cravings.”

Akiva nodded. “I'll remember that.”

When they reached the motel, he paid the woman at the desk in cash, looked deep into her blue-frosted eyes—
Forget me
—and then took the key.

No one was staying on either side of this lonely room at the back of the motel. It was an easy kill, fast and quick, the surprise in old Frank's eyes frozen for eternity.

Roc waited at the end of the drive.

The headlights glared outward into the darkness, casting a haze around the Mustang. Roc popped the hood and bent over the engine, well aware of the buggy approaching from the direction of the Schmidt home, the clippity-clops slowing until it came to a stop. He heard the jangle of the harness and then, “Trouble?”

Roc straightened slowly, not too quickly or eagerly. He didn't want to overplay his hand. “You don't happen to have a spare battery, do you?”

Levi climbed out of the buggy, walked over, and studied the battery beneath the Mustang's hood. “Not that kind, no.”

“Then you're right.” Roc stared at his engine and frowned. “Trouble.”

Levi studied Roc for a moment beneath the rim of his hat. “Can I give you a lift into town then?”

Roc glanced back at the buggy. “Hannah with you?”

Shaking his head, Levi thumbed over his shoulder toward his rig. “It carries more than just two.”

Frowning, Roc crossed his arms over his chest, sure he'd seen another shape in the buggy. Could it have been Akiva? Would Levi hide his brother? Even if his brother was now an animal? He brought his focus back to the car and conversation, and walked the length of the buggy. “I haven't ever ridden in one of these rigs.” He peered inside as far as he could, trying to see if someone was hiding behind the bench. But he didn't see anyone. Had it been a shadow? A figment of his imagination? He laid a hand on his Mustang. “Appreciate the offer but I hate to leave her.”

“The car is well off the road. It will be safe for sure.”

Roc propped a fist on one hip and glanced in either direction of the road. Levi's suggestion was not the one he was hoping for and he pulled his mouth sideways in an effort to conjure up a new plan. “You're a trusting fellow.”

“I trust the good Lord.” Levi's look told exactly whom he wasn't yet trusting, though: Roc.

The crunch of more footsteps reached them, and Levi turned back toward the house. Was it Hannah? Her father?

But an older man approached on foot, the Amish man Roc had first met when he arrived in Promise. He reached out to the gray-bearded fellow. “Ephraim, right?”

Ephraim Hershberger's eyes widened and then he shook Roc's hand. “Have we met? We have.
Ja
! I remember now—at my granddaughter's wedding.”

Roc grinned. “You're right.”

“Saw the lights. You having trouble with your car here? You helping him, Levi?”

“He was,” Roc interjected before Levi could say anything. “I think it's the battery. Levi didn't think y'all had a spare.”

“It's true. I could take you into town tomorrow.” The older man leaned over the engine, eyeing it with unabashed curiosity. “I know where you can get it charged or else buy a new one.”

“That would be terrific. Thanks.” Roc clapped the older man on the back then pointed out the different parts of the engine to him.

“And where is he going to stay,” Levi interrupted, “until morning?”

“In my house,” Ephraim answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have a good sturdy sofa next to the fireplace. If that will suit you.”

“It will suit me fine. I appreciate your help.”

“Not a problem at all.”

Roc grinned. Now he could keep a closer eye on Hannah and keep watch for anything that lurked in the night.

Night was when she came alive.

Hannah's days were filled with mindless chores, her thoughts lingering on the evening she had spent with Akiva, reliving and anticipating the next.

Akiva came for her just after ten while her family slept peacefully in their beds. Even though the nights grew increasingly colder, his hand was always warm as toast and comforting to the touch. He took her to another party in another field with other Amish teens. Again they danced. They kissed. And they drank “juice,” which she'd learned was a combination of liquors and fruit punch, but it tasted sweeter than beer.

“There is something I would show you.” Akiva wrapped an arm around her waist.

She smiled up at him. “What is it?”

“Will you come with me?”

“I am with you now.”

“Tomorrow, I mean.”

She nodded, unable to say no. When she was with him, the world seemed to fade away and she was only aware of him. His eyes. His touch. His smile.

“I will meet you earlier than usual tomorrow. Can you be ready?”

“I will tell Mamm I'm staying at Beth Ann's.”

“You do not have to lie.”

“It will be easier that way, than to explain.” For how could she explain Akiva? Mamm and Dat would not understand, especially because he was not Amish. She should not be seeing him like this, and yet she needed to be with him. Her need resisted logic or understanding. During the day, she reasoned it was because she needed to hear about Jacob, though Akiva never talked of Jacob, and she forgot to even ask about Akiva's time with him—until he left her.

“You know your family better than I.” He lifted his chin and looked around, toward the spring house where he had once stayed. When his gaze narrowed, hers followed. “Someone is there.”

“I can't imagine who.” She shook her head, knowing it couldn't be Levi, for he had left hours before. She glanced toward the attached house where her grandfather lived and saw the lights were off, the shades drawn. It was way past his bedtime. He had become hard of hearing in the last year or so, and she doubted he was awake.

She scanned the barn, which held Akiva's attention, and could see nothing in the shadows. “There's no one there.” But then she saw the glint of yellow, and she smiled. “It's Toby. Our dog. He won't bother us.”

“Us.” Akiva turned his attention back toward Hannah. “I like the sound of that.”

With the crook of his finger, he lifted her chin toward the pale moonlight, cupped her jaw, and caressed her face with only his gaze, as if he was memorizing each contour. Her skin reacted with a tingling sensation. Slowly, he leaned toward her and kissed her, a soft kiss that made her insides curl. His kisses seemed more potent than any “juice.” “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated as if in a dream.

He stepped back, retreating down the back steps, and allowed her to climb the steps to her bedroom alone.