Forsaken (30 page)

The freezing rain drove most sane people inside. Roc had never been accused of that particular frame of mind but tonight he was content (if you could call it that) to lie on Mike's sofa and punch the remote control, not really paying attention to the images changing on the outdated television. The jumpy, incomplete conversations would drive most people insane. But not Roc. The random discussions blocked out the voices, the cries, the screams inside his head. Some only imagined. Some not.

It had been way past midnight when Mike and Roc left the police station in Philadelphia, braved the slick streets, and instead of driving back to Lancaster County in the sleet, Roc had agreed to bunk at Mike's. But sleep was proving as difficult as catching Akiva. He kept remembering what Father Roberto had said, how hard it was to kill a vampire.

It seemed damned near impossible.

Maybe he should pay Father Roberto another call. But what would that accomplish? Then again, maybe the priest knew something about the latest death or even the coroner. Why would a coroner lie? Or maybe Roc was beginning to see bogey men and sinister motives behind every dark eye and around every shady corner. That ability had once served him well as a detective—trust no one. Suspect everyone—but now, Roc was beginning to think it was making him jumpy and irrational. Really,
he
was believing in vampires! If that wasn't proof, he didn't know what was.

A pizza box lay open on the coffee table, the remaining slices now cold and the tomato sauce congealed. Just looking at it made his belly ache, and he remembered the fine, home-cooked breakfast at the Schmidt's, which only made him long for a time when life had seemed…calm and easy. When it was just Emma and he.

Not that she'd been much of a cook, but at least she'd forced him to eat healthier fare, buying packaged salads, granola bars, and fruit. He rarely thought of their days or nights together because it stirred things inside him that threatened to destroy him. Sleep had deserted him from the moment she died, and he'd turned to the bottle as much for the blessed unconsciousness as its temporary numbing effect. But now it had been weeks since he'd had a drink. And sleep still refused to befriend him.

For when it came, it wasn't gracious or kind. It only took a few minutes before the images assaulted him. The situations varied with him running, racing over and through and around obstacles, trying to reach Emma, trying to save her. Or he was holding her hand, trying to pull her up from dangling over the side of a cliff. Every time, he was too late or her fingers slipped from his grasp.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he tried to smother the images, but they flashed across his mind like those on the television. Roc hurled the remote control across the room, and it bounced off the wall to the carpeted floor. The television screen remained on and a commercial for a floor cleaner morphed into a film about a glittery vampire that shimmered in the light like a rock star. Roc glared at the screen for a moment, then hit the floor with his bare feet. In two strides, he closed the gap and punched the button on the television. It went dark. Silence pulsed through the apartment until Mike's resonating snores rumbled from his bedroom.

Stalking toward the window, Roc pulled back the plastic blinds and stared out at the iced parking lot. Through the streetlights' glare, the sleet appeared silvery as it slashed downward and covered cars and sidewalks, rooftops and streets.

The jangle of his cell phone startled him. He stared at the phone beside the pizza box where he'd dropped his change and keys, but he didn't recognize the local number. Who would be calling at four in the morning?

He punched the button. “This is Roc.”

There was a clearing of a throat.

“Who is it?” He didn't have time for nonsense. Or patience.

Again the throat clearing. “Um, Roc Girouard, this is Levi Fisher.”

A hard knot formed in his belly. “What's up, Levi?”

“What we discussed the other night…in the field?”

“Yeah, yeah. The barn. The sheep.” An Amish man with a secret. Roc's pulse began to vibrate.

“I am thinking I need your help.”

She is lovely.” Camille's thick New Orleans accent had a melodious tenor and yet it carried an incisive bite.

Akiva did not bother to look in her direction but continued walking through Independence Hall. Outside the windows, trees glistened like diamonds. Not many tourists ventured out on a day like today, with ice coating the streets. For most of his life, he had lived an hour away from his nation's birthplace but had never visited the tourist areas, never understood the sacrifices represented here, the truth and freedom. Now that his own freedoms had been seized, he embraced these even more. After departing from Hannah at dawn, he'd sped here to think. “What do you want, Camille?”

Giving him a seductive look that only made him recoil, she ran a hand along his arm, grazed his hand with her cold touch. “I think you know.”

“I'm not interested.”

“What can that
haus frau
give you? Nothing. She will never understand you, but I can.”

He ignored her.

“Do you believe she was stolen from you too?”

He had no answer for her, only a glowering stare. If looks could kill, then it would do the trick. But he knew it would take much more than that to destroy Camille. But one day…

“Does she have an appreciation for Vivaldi too? And all of that poetry you so love?”

“Do not follow me again.”

She glanced around the hall at the sacred documents. “It is a free country, is it not? I too appreciate the finer things in life, Akiva.” She trailed a long fingernail along his shoulder. “We could be so good together. You and me.”

“I have loved
her
longer than you could understand.”

“You know nothing of time. I have been alive for over a hundred years.” She gazed at the display of the Constitution. She wore a silk top that revealed the soft mounds of her breasts in a way that Hannah never would, and her black slacks accentuated her long, slim legs and impossibly high heels. She didn't bother with the pretense of needing a coat in the winter; nothing penetrated her iciness. She would never understand his desire and need for Hannah.

Her eyes burned with hunger; she would feed today, as he would—but not together. He wouldn't give her that pleasure.

“Have you changed her already? Or would you like me to do so? It can be quite an erotic experience…even more so when shared.”

Akiva wheeled around and through clenched teeth warned, “Don't you dare.”

But Camille only laughed. “Oh, so you want the pleasure, is that it?”

“Stay away from her. I'm warning you.”

She smiled, her lips closed and one corner of her mouth curling upward.

“I want…” He spoke low and threatening, but then changed course. “She will make the decision. Not me. And not you.” He grabbed Camille's upper arm, squeezing in a steely grip, but she didn't even flinch. “Do you understand?”

“We will see.” She gave him a half-lidded, unimpressed glance. “She is tempting, I must say.”

Akiva loosened his grip, let his fingers glide down the inside of her arm. “There is another you might consider.”

Levi was waiting for her. Standing inside the barn door, he kept vigil.

It was late the next morning when she appeared on the drive, walking toward the house, her shoes crunching the patchy ice.

“Hannah!” He ran toward her and skidded to a stop on the gravel. Most of the ice had melted with the rising sun and temperatures, but a deep chill saturated the morning air. He stared at her amber brown eyes, noting the color had not changed. “Where have you been? Are you all right?”

Hannah appeared as if she had survived, but her gaze was distant, distracted, and disturbing.

With a slow blink, she stared at Levi. “Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Where have you been?”

“With Jacob.”

Levi glanced past her, searching the road for a vehicle or some sign that his brother was nearby. “Where is he now?”

She gave a listless wave of her hand.

He frowned at her and held himself in check to keep from shaking her. What was wrong with her? What had Jacob done to her? “You do not know what you are getting into, Hannah.”

She blinked, quickly this time, her eyelids fluttering slightly as if he'd taken a swing at her. Her shoulders squared against him, and she took a step away from him, her hands settling on her hips. “Who are you to tell me, Levi Fisher?”

Toby gave a bark, and both Hannah and Levi glanced in the dog's direction. He was staring out at the empty pasture, the hair on his back bristly, his tail pointing straight back. Levi leaned in toward Hannah. “I am only trying to warn you. You do not know who this is that—”

“He
is
your
brother. Did he leave because of you?”

Levi flinched, felt the sting of her words. Maybe he deserved that, but he also knew it wasn't the whole truth. “Not
because
of me, Hannah.” His heart heaved. How could he tell her the truth when he didn't fully understand it himself? “He is but a shadow of his former self. He has
changed
.”

“I have seen the change. I am not foolish. But you have changed too, Levi.” Her tone was soft yet steely. “You
are
jealous of him. Just as he said you were.”

“Is jealousy bad? Even God is jealous of our affection.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you comparing yourself to God?”

He huffed out a breath. “I am trying to protect you, keep you from making an awful bad mistake.”

“No one ever understood Jacob. Even you said so. And now—”

“Did he tell you what he is?” He paused and inched closer, hoping to crowd out whatever voice she was listening to. “Did he explain to you what he does?”

Her lips thinned.

“No, of course not. He lies. He deceives. He is the great pretender.”

She shook her head, backing away, and Levi hesitated. He didn't want her to leave again. Her head was still shaking back and forth.

Levi advanced on her, grabbed her arm, not only to snag her attention but to assure himself that she wouldn't run or disappear. He had to make her listen, to understand, to see reality. “Who are you trying to convince, Hannah?” He hissed the words through his teeth. “Me? Or you?”

“But I loved him.”

Loved
. Not love. Her words pierced his heart. Had she changed? Had she seen the truth? “This isn't about love. About breaking your heart or his or even mine. This is about life and death. About Eternity.”

She stared at his hand clamping onto her arm. Finger by finger, he forcefully released her. It went against every instinct, every fiber that wanted to hold her close and protect her. It was ultimately her decision. As everything else in this life, it was a choice. He had to let her make it. But could he release her if she chose Jacob?

“Levi, you must go. He is coming. I promised I would give him my answer.”

“And what will it be?”

She looked at him, her eyes imploring. Was she asking him to understand? Or was she asking for his help? Her eyes filled with tears that reflected the myriad of emotions whirling through him.

For that one moment, all that had passed between them, the anger, grief, and longing, the deep kisses, the fresh hopes and dreams, pulled them once more together. She had felt something for him. She had loved him…if only briefly. If only for a moment. He had to remind her once more, and he pulled her to him, held her as if he'd never let her go. When she glanced up at him, questions churning in the depths of her eyes, he kissed her again.

He used every ounce of persuasion to convince her of his love, of his tenderness, of his intensity, of the depth of his feelings. At first she felt stiff in his arms, but she began to relax and then melted against him. And finally she clung to him with equal fervor. The heartache and heartbreak pulsed between them, drew them together, bound their hearts as one. Could she find her answer here with him? Could she let Jacob go and find her future with him? Levi pulled back, breathless and hopeful, peering deep into her eyes.

“Hannah, do you trust me?”

In her eyes, he saw that she truly did. Behind the hurt over all she had lost, her love for him broke through like the sun's rays piercing rain-filled clouds.

“Oh, Levi…” She wrapped her arms around his waist, held him close, pressed her face against the beat of his heart. “You have to go, Levi. Jacob…Akiva will hurt you. And I can't bear to think about…anything happening to you.”

“It's not me I'm worried about.” He lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “Roc Girouard is coming here. He will help us.”

“But how?”

Did you see him?” Katie sat on the edge of Hannah's bed. She was dressed in her white nightclothes, her hair long and loose and flowing about her shoulders.

Hannah hung her prayer
kapp
on the wall peg, still feeling light and buoyant with love for Levi. “Who do you mean?”

“The
Englisher
. Roc. Think he'll be staying the night again?”

“How should I know? It isn't any of my concern.” But Hannah knew why the
Englisher
had arrived: to tell her Jacob was evil, but she would not believe it. Yes, he had changed, but everyone changed. She had too. She wasn't the same wide-eyed innocent she once was. Neither was Jacob. If he'd left the Amish ways behind, the district wouldn't shun him because he had never been baptized. Living as the
English
did would not make him evil.

Still, she had agreed to meet with Roc and Levi tonight. Maybe then she would get the answers she needed. And when Jacob returned, she would tell him of her choice.

Now that her heart had opened to Levi, could things ever be as they were before? Or had life irrevocably changed? She could already see her life playing out with Levi, living a simple, plain life, working alongside him, building a home, a family, a future.

But they were not married yet, and he would not tell her what to do until that time.

You are being obstinate, Hannah.
The whisper came to her and she wasn't sure if it was her conscience, the voice that had called to her, or maybe even God.

Tonight, she felt distracted and disoriented, impatient with Katie and her babbling. She must get Katie to go to sleep.

“He is very handsome.” Katie hugged Hannah's pillow to her middle. “Do you think he would take me for a ride in his fancy car?”

“Don't go making yourself a nuisance. Leave the
Englisher
be.” She gave her little sister a stern look, then yawned, stretching her jaws wide along with her arms, and hoped to spur a reaction in those wide, bright eyes of Katie's. “It's late,
ja
?”

“I'm not tired.”

“Well, I am. And you should be.” She gave Katie an affectionate chuck under the chin. “I will give you more chores tomorrow then.”

Katie laughed and leaned back onto the bed, tucking the pillow beneath her head. “Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Not tonight.”

“But I get lonely in my room.” The mischievous smile that had been there only moments before disappeared under a haze of seriousness. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Her question startled Hannah. “Why would you ask that?”

“What if I told you I thought I saw Grandma Ruth in my room? I woke up and she was sitting in the rocker beside my bed.”

“Doesn't sound like you're lonely then,” Hannah teased but stopped when she saw the fear in Katie's eyes. “You must have still been asleep. Fear not. There is nothing to fear. Remember:
For He shall give His angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways
.”

Katie plucked at the sheet and considered the verse from Psalms for a moment before asking, “Are you going to sneak out tonight?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I've seen you before.” Katie giggled. “Maybe I'm a better sneak than you.”

Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, you think so, eh?”

She nodded and grinned. “It's all right. I never tell. Are you going to see Levi?”

With a huff, Hannah grabbed her sister's hand and tugged her off the bed. “Come on, it's time for bed.”

“Can I come with you?”

“You most certainly cannot.”

“But I never get to go. I never have any fun.”

“You should be in bed. Sleeping.”

“Oh, all right.” Katie hugged her, pressing her cheek against Hannah's stomach. “I like Levi. I can't wait till you marry him.”

“Katie, no one has said…”

But the little girl grinned. “I can tell. And I like him better than Jacob.”

That stopped Hannah as if a finger pressed against her heart. “You do? Why?”

“Levi includes me. Jacob always gave me things to make me skedaddle.” With one last hug, Katie hurried off to her own room, saying, “I can't wait until I'm old enough to run around and have fun.”

***

They were waiting for her.

With wariness, Hannah approached the two men standing just inside the barn entrance, her arms folded to keep her cape closed about her, and she gave a brief nod to Levi, who greeted her at the door. Roc, however, hung back in the shadows, leaning against the wall in an insolent manner. He had a dark look about him—dark hair, dark eyes—though not black as Jacob or Akiva's—and a perpetually dark expression.

“Come in, Hannah.” Levi gestured toward a hay bale, his eyes deep, serious pools. “Would you like to sit?”

“No,
danke
. This shouldn't take long.” She took one step inside the barn, where everything smelled normal with the hay and oats and animals scents but where everything seemed suddenly peculiar. Lantern light flickered along the walls, casting odd shapes and shadows about the stalls.

Levi closed the door behind her, the metal wheels sounding louder than normal as they slid the door along its track, then the bolt latched and jarred her. “You remember Roc?”

“Of course.” She folded her hands together and stared at him across the way. “But why are you here?”

He didn't move, didn't straighten, but his voice came out sharp and straightforward. “I'm here to warn you.”

She felt her jaw reflexively tighten, and her gaze shifted from Levi back to the
Englisher
. “About Jacob?”

“Akiva.” His use of the other name startled her. “I don't know Jacob, the man you once knew, Levi's brother.” Roc scuffed the bottom of his boot as he walked toward her, but he stopped still a few feet away and regarded her with a slow perusal. “He is the one that killed your lamb.”

Her gaze swerved toward Levi for confirmation. He simply nodded, his expression grim. Her heart clamored inside her chest. “Snowflake? And why would he do such a thing? How do you know this?”

“I know. And it's not all he has done.” Roc sat on a hay bale and waved toward another that had been arranged for just this purpose. “Let me tell you a story.”

She kept up her guard, but she already felt a trembling deep inside her and crossed her arms over her belly in an effort to hold herself together. Levi watched her beneath the brim of his hat, and, feeling nervous, she finally sat, the scratchy stalks poking into her cape and skirt like little warning signals.

“You can tell I am not from around here. I am not Amish. Where I come from, it is about as different from this place as hell from heaven. New Orleans is my home, where I grew up and became a cop…a police officer…right out of school. I loved it, but my wife…well, it's not easy being married to a cop. Bad hours. High stress. For the wife even more so. She always worried I wouldn't come home.”

“I am sorry,” Hannah interrupted, “but I do not know what this has to do with—”

“I'm trying to tell you that I didn't always live like this. I had a normal life. A home. And then Katrina happened.”

“Katrina?”

“Summer of 2005. Hurricane Katrina swept through. Being a cop, well, I was there. Saw folks who should've left stay…and die. Saw things no one should ever see. The destruction of my home. My town. Everything I'd known.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “There wasn't any law or order anymore. God had forsaken us. And I couldn't blame him. I saw dead folks. Killings. Rapes. Looting. You name it. But even that wasn't the worst of it.”

His gaze remained on her, boring into her. “We found bodies, folks died in ways we couldn't explain. Even babies. At first, the captain said it was alligators coming into the city to feed. And we saw plenty of 'em among the floating caskets. But what we found was fresh bodies, their necks chewed and their bodies drained of blood. There wasn't a satisfactory explanation.”

She plucked at her sleeve. Whatever she had expected Roc to say, it wasn't this. “What about your wife?”

His gaze shifted then, only slightly, but enough to convey his own struggle with emotions that obviously haunted him.

She sensed foreboding, a tension in Roc's body. She didn't want to care about this man or his problems, and though she tried to steel herself against any emotion, her heart skittered in response to his words.

“My wife…Emma…she died.” The anguish in the
Englisher's
eyes spoke to her on some deeper level, and she recognized the pain as her own. “Not during Katrina. Later. Just over a year ago.”

Her insides ached the second he spoke those words, and her heart turned toward him with sympathy and understanding because she knew what it was like to hold love and lose it.

“And I became a drunk,” he continued, his voice hoarse, “lost my job. Lost the will to live.”

She hurt for this man, who so obviously grieved the way she had been grieving, but his story was different from hers. She clutched her hands in her lap, her nails biting into her palms. “What does this have to do with Jacob? With Snowflake?”

“My wife didn't just die. She was murdered.” His eyes went flat as if all the emotion had been drained from them. “Just recently another young woman in New Orleans was murdered the same way. And then, up here, another murder. And another. And—”

“Seems to me, you are the only connection with these murders. Not Jacob.”

He shook his head, and his look pierced her. “I'm hunting the animal that killed my wife.”

“Animal?” Confused by all he had said and what he was trying to tell her, she wondered if she'd missed something.

“That is what
they
are. Animals. Without conscience. Without feeling. Without anything other than a selfish need driving them. That is your Jacob. Akiva.”

His words punched Hannah in the stomach. The shock of it radiated outward, along her nerve endings, rattling her as hard as if he were to grab her arms and give her a hard shake. “But Jacob would never—”

“He's
not
the Jacob you knew. He's Akiva now. And he's a killer.”

“How do you know all of this?” She stood, her legs more wobbly than she anticipated. She wanted to run out of the barn but fear and the need to know more kept her rooted in place.

Roc stood too but didn't step toward her, his movements appeared jerky, awkward. “Look here, I know you don't want to face this about your”—he glanced at Levi as if groping for the right word and settled on—“friend. You loved him. I get that, know how it feels. But in a sense, Jacob did die. He was changed, maybe even by that woman who is with him.”

“What woman?” She glanced from Roc to Levi and back.

“She's one of
them
. They kill without thought. Without care. They kill because they have to have the blood to live. It's survival. Them or us. And I'm gonna make sure it's them this time.”

A trembling rocked through Hannah and she reached out to grab something, anything, but her hand found only air—until Levi reached for her, held her, lifting and supporting when her legs threatened to give in to the pressure. Her head was shaking in denial. She stared at the
Englisher
and saw the darkness of grief well up in his eyes. “I'm sorry you lost your wife. Really I am. But that doesn't have anything to do with me. It doesn't.”

A tick in his jaw pulsed. His gaze flattened, like a shield going up between them. He'd given her one tiny glimpse of his pain, an attempt to convince her, but she was as resistant as he had been at first.

“Tell her, Levi.”

Levi's lips compressed, dimpling his cheeks. “Hannah, I saw him…I saw Jacob…” He shook his head as if reconsidering what he was about to say. “I saw the change, the way he became.” Abruptly, he released her hand, and she teetered again, shaken and unsteady, while he looked helplessly at Roc. “She sees and hears what used to be, not what is.”

“Levi,” she spoke, sounding steadier than she felt, “you're talking about Jacob! Your own brother.” She shook her head decisively. “I will go to Jacob and speak to him. He will tell me the truth.”

“You are naïve.” Roc's statement sounded cold.

Levi approached her but this time he didn't reach out to her, didn't touch her. “I will go with you. Protect you. I saved you once, and I will do so again.”

“What do you mean?
You
saved me.”

“When you almost drowned in the creek.”

She shook her head. “But that was Jacob.”

“
I
found you, Hannah.
I
pulled you from the creek.
I
forced air into your lungs again.”

“But Jacob—”

“You are not remembering it right. Think back, Hannah. I am telling you the truth. Only the truth.”