Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel (18 page)

Samuel stepped out of the communal shower at the training center, toweled off, and hurriedly dressed. He wanted to get back to Levi’s before Naomi headed home for the night. Half hopping and half walking, he yanked on his boots, moving through the bath facilities toward the door. He was midway through the sleeping quarters when he realized something was amiss.

It was quiet—too quiet.

His eyes strained to peer through the darkness into the bunks. But his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. Cautiously moving forward, he bumped something hard with his shin.

Usually some of the men lounged on their bunks, milled about, or snacked after their evening session. But tonight, he was alone.
Where
was
everybody?

A sound—
a
snicker?
—came from his left. He jerked around and something small and light smacked him in the forehead. Laughter rumbled around him.

The lights came on, and Samuel squinted against the sudden glare. “What’s this?”

“We thought you needed a little help.” Harry pressed forward with all the team members. His brown features split with a generous grin.

Samuel met the other smiling gazes and tried to gauge what was coming next. With these guys, one never knew. “Have you all gone loony?”

Joe bent down and scooped up something off the floor.
Was
that
what
hit
Samuel
in
the
head?

Dwight moved in close, bumping his shoulder. His grizzled face split with a grin. “We thought you needed some help.”

“How’s that?” Immediately, he regretted asking the question.

“We bought you a gift.” Lance nudged him from behind. Shorter than Samuel, Lance was wiry with a whiplike strength.

The team gathered around Samuel, pressing in close. Samuel braced himself for whatever would come next.

Before he could bolt, someone grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. This was gonna hurt.

Joe moved forward and jabbed something under his nose. Samuel jerked his head but too many hands held him. Joe’s look was serious, threatening, but in a blink, his expression shifted to creases in the corners and a spark of humor. Gripping the sides of Samuel’s face, the leader smeared something across his mouth. Samuel bucked but was held secure.

Harry made kissing sounds. “Some lip gloss for when you see your lady friend.”

Laughter rose around him. Samuel yanked free. Or maybe they let him go. Someone jabbed him playfully in the ribs and clapped him on the back. Stumbling away, Samuel swiped his sleeve across his mouth, tasted strawberry.

“Ain’t lip gloss,” Shawn corrected Harry. “It’s lip balm. Makes your lips supple and smooth.”

“Oh, you’re making me horny now!” Pete grabbed Shawn from behind and lifted him in the air. Pete’s eagle tattoo bulged on his bicep.

“Hey!” Shawn broke free and pumped a fist at Pete. “Remember what Roberto said about impure thoughts and unholy, unsanctified acts.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not my type. I prefer the ladies.” Pete hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “Besides, I didn’t sign up to be no priest.”

Randy placed a thickly muscled arm around Samuel’s shoulders. “You need some advice about women? You come to me. I can tell you all you need to know.”

“Yeah.” Shawn waggled his white-blond eyebrows. “Randy’s good at diagrams.”

Feeling his face burn, Samuel ducked his head. “No, thanks. I’m doing all right on my own.”

“I’ll say!” Joe’s laugh resonated through the room. “Maybe the Amish boy can give you some tips, Shawn! How long has it been since you got any? Like never?”

More laughter followed, and they shoved and clapped Samuel on the back as they rubbed the top of Shawn’s head playfully. But Joe lifted his hand and halted the shenanigans. The others quieted quickly, their gazes following Joe’s toward the door.

Roberto gave a polite nod. “It’s late, boys.”

“It is.” Joe dusted off Samuel’s shoulders. “Now, go straight home. No detours tonight. You need your beauty sleep.”

Roberto trained his gaze on Samuel and tilted his head for him to follow. Samuel lightly punched Joe in the thick bicep and wove his way through the rest of the team members. He snatched the tube of lip balm out of Shawn’s hand. “You boys won’t be needing this tonight. But I might.”

With a grin, he followed Roberto into the workout center.

“Don’t mind them,” Roberto said. “It’s just their way of accepting you as a part of the team.”

“So I measure up?”

“You always have. See you tomorrow, Samuel.” Roberto turned away.

But Samuel stopped him with one question. “How?”

Roberto tilted his head and gave him a hard, assessing look. “They’ve watched you during the training sessions.”

“They know I can take a beating.”

A hint of a smile appeared, then disappeared. “They trust you. And they know what happened in Ohio.”

Jacob. They knew he’d killed his own brother. It felt like a knife stabbing his chest. The good feeling the team had roused was drowned out by the guilt pouring out of him like blood.

For a long moment, he stood in the dark, fighting back the memories, the self-reproach. He had a sudden urge to run as far as he could…or drive. Yes, drive. He’d hop on his motorcycle and take off. For where he didn’t know.

Only dim lights illuminated his path, and he wove his way through equipment and dangling ropes, around the wrestling mat, to the side door. A clicking sound stopped him. He peered into the lecture area, where Roberto taught about the spiritual aspects of the battle and Roc taught tactics. In the tiny, blocked-off area, surrounded by chalkboards and chairs, Roc knelt in front of a table with three lit candles and clicked beads together.

Samuel watched his friend, who seemed to have many burdens weighing on his shoulders these days. But Roc carried the stress and responsibility well. Just when he thought he knew all there was to know about this man, Samuel learned something new. He looked up to Roc, respected him, wanted to be like him. But was he ready to take such a bold step? Was he ready to walk away from all he’d ever known?

Roc glanced up, saw Samuel, and stood. “Everything okay?”

“
Ja.
”

“You’re doing good work, Samuel.” Roc walked toward him, pushed open the door, and they stepped outside into the cool evening together. Crickets chirped and it sounded like a bullfrog looking for a lady friend.

“Roc, I…” He hesitated and decided against voicing his doubts and concerns. “Good night.”

Roc’s hand snagged Samuel’s arm. “No secrets here. If you have something to say, say it. Makes going into battle together easier.”

“You think it’s coming to that?”

Roc breathed in the night air and looked up at the stars filling the sky. “I do.”

“How can you…how can
we
win?”

“Because we have to. We have more to lose. Which translates: we have more to fight for. More important than that, we’re on God’s side. And whether we lose a battle here or there isn’t as important as the end result. We know how it will all turn out.”

“I didn’t know you were so religious.”

Roc shook his head. “Religious? No, I’m not that.”

“But you pray.”

“I’d be a fool not to.”

“But what do you pray about?”

Roc stared up at the stars and rocked back on his heels. “For answers. Guidance. Protection over my family.” He nodded toward Samuel. “My team. And”—he breathed in then out—“forgiveness.”

That word twisted inside Samuel. “And do you believe God forgives you?”

“I do.” His tone was confident. He raised three fingers. “I light three candles. One for my first wife, who I failed. She died because of those sons of bitches. The second is for my mother. I couldn’t protect her from my father. And the third is for my father, who I couldn’t help—and who is probably dead.”

“Is that your fault?”

Roc shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not. I pray for their souls, for my loss, and for the mistakes I make.”

“You?” A measure of humor entered his tone but Samuel wasn’t joking.

Neither was Roc when he said, “I do. Everyone does.”

“You think God would”—Samuel swallowed hard—“forgive me?

“I’m not a priest. But yes, I believe he would.”

“You’ve killed before, Roc. You don’t feel guilty and light candles for those you’ve killed?”

“Because I was defending someone, sometimes myself. Self-preservation kills guilt, I suppose. But also, I know what I’m called to do here, Samuel. I have no doubts about that. Every time I kill one of those vampires, I’m protecting an innocent from being killed or becoming one of them. And maybe that’s how you need to look at Jacob. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t the brother you knew. He was a killer. He killed innocent people. He would have killed Rachel that day. And her baby. Without one ounce of guilt. So the next time you feel guilty, think about that. Think of the ones you saved. Maybe someone like Naomi.”

At the mention of Naomi, Samuel’s hands became fists. He would protect her, without hesitation or regret. “And pray, right?”

Roc nodded, his mouth compressed in a thin line. “All you have to do is ask.”

***

The Fisher family sat at the kitchen table, along with Samuel and Naomi, passing bowls of scrambled eggs, a platter of bacon, and a basket of biscuits. He stole a look at Naomi and remembered her soft kiss from last night. He’d met her at Levi’s and walked her home. But a dose of uncertainty pinched him in the gut. Was he wrong for wanting to be with her? His discussion with Roc had made him look solidly at the life that awaited him if he took that path.

What would it mean for Naomi? He understood the risks on his own life. But was he also putting Naomi’s life in danger? What would be her response if he told her what he was doing every evening over at Roc’s? Would he risk her derision, astonishment, or disappointment? Even her rejection?

She caught him looking in her direction and smiled. The pleasure in her eyes erased all his doubts and concerns.

The crunch of tires on the gravel alerted everyone at the table. Samuel’s worried gaze collided with Levi’s. He rose first and strained to peer out the window.

“Who is it?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t know.” Levi stood now. “Don’t recognize the car.”

“Could be a lost tourist,” Naomi suggested, who seemed to be the only one at the table who wasn’t concerned.

Shrugging off his initial concern, Samuel sat back at the table and piled his plate high with a mound of scrambled eggs, biscuits, and diced potatoes. It wasn’t unusual for strangers to stop in, tourists trying to get a glimpse of the Amish world, travelers who got turned around, even occasionally a reporter wanting an interview or a novelist doing research. “Probably someone who got a whiff of this food. You outdid yourself this morning, Naomi.”

A blush crept into her cheeks. She kept her eyes averted and passed him the butter.

Levi headed toward the door. “I’ll see who it is and if they need help.”

Hannah pushed back from her place at the table. “I’ll cover your plate until you get back.”

One of the babies began to cry, and Hannah waved off Naomi, who started to rise. “They’re both probably hungry.”

Naomi nodded and took the foil from Hannah and covered Levi’s plate, pinching the edges to seal in the heat. She avoided Samuel’s gaze as he did hers.

“Never a dull moment around here, is there?” he asked.

She smiled. “Oh, I forgot the marmalade.”

He tried not to watch as she went to the refrigerator but his gaze was drawn to her. Only one thing stopped him from full-out pursuit. No matter where he lived, whichever lifestyle he embraced, he’d be forced to lie. There was no real choice, which didn’t sit well with Samuel. His own father had lied to him. He didn’t want to be that kind of a man. He didn’t want to lie to Naomi.
But
how
could
he
tell
her
the
truth?

“Is everything all right, Samuel?” She returned to the table, head tilted as she studied him.

“I was”—he poked his fork into his scrambled eggs, suddenly not hungry—“just thinking.”

She didn’t pressure him to say any more. The sweep of her eyelashes shadowed her cheeks. Her innocence staggered him. His heart was lost to her. But how could they ever have a future together?

The back door opened, and Levi peered inside. “Samuel, there’s a woman out here, says she knows you. Her name is Andi.”

Roc sat on the edge of the small desk in the corner of his training facility. The whiteboard held Roberto’s writing—

Then the earth laid accusation against the lawless ones.

There is no darkness, nor shadow of death, where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves.

The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eyes be healthy, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness.

Some of the scriptures were from the canonized Bible, others not. Roc recalled his old friend Anthony, who had shared these with him before he’d bought into all this vampire lore.

Anthony.
Roc pressed his forehead with his hand. Where was he now? Was he even alive? Roc should have gone searching for him sooner.

Roberto swiped his hand over the whiteboard. “Kind of a depressing lecture, wasn’t it?”

Roc reread the line at the top—
The
devil
is
one
of
God’s creations
—as it disappeared beneath the eraser’s arcing sweep. Roc sighed. “Better hear it now rather than find out the truth the hard way.”

“We all have the capacity to embrace evil.”

Roc had seen it with his ex-partner on the New Orleans’ police force. Brody, who now went by the name Brydon, had done precisely that. Maybe not of his own free will, not at first anyway, but Brydon now enjoyed the perks of being a vampire. He would not be easy to kill. At least, not a second time. “Do you remember what you first told me when we met?”

Roberto paused. “What’s that?”

“Not to trust anyone. Not even you.”

“Exactly.” Roberto went back to cleaning the board, but markers had discolored it and it would never be pure white again. “You can’t trust yourself either.”

Roc nodded, knowing all too well he too carried a thirst for iniquity. The virtues in his life—Rachel and baby David—continuously pulled him toward the light.

Roberto tossed the eraser onto the desk. “So what do you think?”

“About?”

“Samuel. Is he ready?”

“Not yet, no.” Yet he was hopeful. With Samuel here in Pennsylvania, maybe Roc could finally pursue what had happened to Anthony while Samuel kept an eye on Rachel and David for him. “But maybe he’s ready for a test.”

Roberto sat in a chair and surveyed Roc with those keen blue eyes. “You’re finally going after Father Anthony, are you?”

Roc leaned forward, his elbow braced against his thigh. When he’d tracked Rachel to New Orleans and rescued her from Akiva, he’d been wounded by a vampire. The first person he’d gone to for help was Anthony Daly. But another priest had moved into his parish house. Roc had promised himself he’d find Anthony one day. “I owe him that much.”

“Roc,” Roberto said in that fatherly tone he often invoked, “one of your best traits is loyalty. But don’t let the enemy use it against you. Anthony would never want you to risk your life for him. You know the two possibilities as well as I do. If he is dead, then Anthony knew the risks he took. If he is not one of us anymore, then it would be wise to avoid him.”

“Because you think I couldn’t do my job?” Roc’s hand fisted. He hadn’t hesitated to kill his ex-partner, Brody. He should have stuck around and made sure he’d been dead. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. “You think I wouldn’t kill him?”

Roberto laid a hand on Roc’s shoulder. “You would do what must be done, just as I would do. What else is there? And ultimately you would be helping Anthony, yes?”

“Then why shouldn’t I go?”

“Besides that you are committed here? Besides the fact that your wife and son need you too?” Roberto gave a squeeze to Roc’s shoulder before releasing him. “There is something—I don’t know how to explain it but—much more dangerous in encountering a vampire you once knew as human. First, it is easy to underestimate them. You believe they will react as they once did, as if they were human. You expect the same weaknesses, the same emotions. But they are no longer human. They no longer have the same love, fear, kindness we have. And for some reason, they are more vicious toward those they have known. It is as if the love they once had is distorted and twisted into a powerful hatred.”

Roberto’s gaze shifted as if he was remembering something from his own past. “I have thought this hate stems from a jealousy over their loss of the life they once loved. Or maybe it is that those they knew remind them of what they lost, what they can never have again. I don’t know.” He leveled a steady gaze on Roc. “But I do know that if Anthony has been changed, then his hatred of you and all you represent will be mighty in its intensity.”

Roc understood what Roberto was saying, and yet he couldn’t abandon his childhood friend any more than he could have abandoned Rachel or his son, David. He shoved his fingers through his hair. “He never quit on me, and I won’t quit on him.”