The Hallowed Ones (29 page)

The Elder on the porch regarded me with skepticism. “
Ja.
He is home. But he is not taking visitors.”

“Oh. I hope he is not ill?”

“No. He is not ill. But he is not allowed visitors.”

I blinked. “He is not
allowed
visitors?” The old man had always done as he pleased. I glanced at the front window, through the glass, and my heart sank. I saw Herr Stoltz sitting at his desk. And the Bishop stood before him. The look on his face was such a wrath as I had never seen.

The Elder moved to block my view. “The Bishop says he is to stay here. He has violated the Ordnung. No one speaks to him.”

My eyes slid to the rifle. I understood: Herr Stoltz was a prisoner in his own home. The Bishop has found out or suspected his hand in the fire that consumed the Hersberger house.

My eyes widened, and I blurted: “Is he under the
Bann?
”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

I lamely held the basket before me. “Could you please give these to him?”

“You can leave them here. I will give them to him if the Bishop says it’s okay.”

I nodded, handed him the basket, and walked briskly away from the house. I walked until I was out of sight of the guard.

And then I fled.

At first, I headed south, toward home. I wanted to tell my mother, have her comfort me. I wanted my father to listen, to feel his protective shadow over me.

But I was learning that some things were beyond them, their powers to understand or their strength. This was one of them.

I veered south and east, toward the kennel. There was one person who would listen to me.

I hauled open the barn door, flooding the straw floor with light.

Alex rushed to the sound of the door reeling back. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was holding a bucket of water that splashed onto the knees of his britches. A worry mark deepened his brow.

“Jesus, Bonnet. Thank God you’re here.”

“What’s wrong?” I dreaded his answer.

He gestured helplessly to the back. “The dog . . . she’s in labor. I think. I don’t know.” He set down the bucket and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “You’ve got good timing.”

“Ja,”
I said darkly. “I have excellent timing in all things.”

He searched my face. “Look, don’t worry about . . . about last night. Your wizard is working on it. The old man’s got some vinegar in him. He’ll have all of your folk outfitted with
Himmelsbriefs
—or is it
Himmelsbriefen?
Anyway, he’ll have you guys set up before long. The vamps will move on, and maybe by then the military will have—”

“Herr Stoltz has been imprisoned.”

He caught my elbow. “What do you mean, imprisoned? By the English?”

“No. By the Elders. There is a man with a gun, an Elder guarding his house. And the Bishop is there. I fear that they may put him under the
Bann.
”

“The
Bann
. . . Excommunicate him?”

I nodded fiercely.
“Ja.
If he does not confess and repent.
”

“They’d be fools to do it!” he exclaimed. “The old wizard is their only hope.”

“I know it, and you know it. But they will not allow him to flout the rules like that.”

“But—”

“We will talk of this more. But show me Sunny,” I insisted. I might have no control over what the Bishop did to Herr Stoltz, but I could at the very least make sure that Sunny was safe.

“She’s here.”

I followed him to the back paddock. The dog lay on her blanket, uncovered. Her sides twitched, and her front paws moved, as if she were dreaming. She rolled her brown eyes up at me.

“Shhh, girl. It’s all right.” I knelt beside her, stroked her sides.

“Gah,” Alex said. “Is that what I think it is?”

I rinsed my hands in the bucket, then reached for the tiny gummy bundle that Sunny pushed out onto the straw. Sunny licked at it, worrying at the puppy while I pulled open the protective sack.

“Get me some scissors, would you? And some of the clean towels on the shelf beside the door.”

“Got it.” He sped away as fast as his feet could carry him.

I smiled to myself. The events of the last days may have left me shocked and stupefied. But this . . . this I could handle.

I rubbed the puppy gently in my lap with a corner of the blanket to stimulate its circulation. I lifted it to my ear, felt its heart beat and the flutter of its breathing. His tiny, delicate paws twitched, and I set him back beside Sunny’s belly. She began to serenely lick the top of his head.

Alex returned with the towels and scissors. Copper peered around the corner, whining.

“It’s okay, boys.” I chuckled, setting the scissors to the umbilical cord. “I think that Frau Gerlach might be right about your gender.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

There was something reassuring about the normal, orderly process of birth. I smiled and cooed at the puppies as they came, one after the other. Copper developed enough nerve to lay down in the stall, and Alex sidled in behind him. I handed him one of the puppies.

He held it in his hands—hands that I remembered decapitating people just yesterday. I could see the terror on his face that he might drop it. He cradled the puppy close to his chest. “So tiny. And his eyes aren’t even open.”

“Her eyes. That one’s a her.”

“Eh. How can you tell?” He picked up a puppy and squinted at its tail region.

“The usual way.” I grinned as I rubbed the latest arrival down with a towel. There was little to see except to the trained eye.

“Bonnet, did anyone ever tell you that you’re a smart-ass?”

“No,” I said innocently. “Plain folk don’t use that kind of language.”

He snorted.

There were four puppies born over the afternoon. Four and the afterbirth, which Alex grimaced at. I took it away before Sunny had a chance to eat it. Though, in retrospect, it might have given me some small satisfaction to allow her to do it and disgust the Outsider.

I sat with my back to the paddock wall beside Alex, watching Sunny nose the puppies into position to nurse. Copper dozed in the straw, his tail slapping occasionally as he dreamed.

Alex casually draped his arm around me. And, for a moment, the world seemed right and good. The puppies were all healthy and perfect. Sunshine streamed in through the slats of the barn. I smelled sweet straw and snuggled up to Alex’s chest.

As I felt the joy growing in me to see the puppies making their way safely into the world, I also felt a pang of sorrow.

Alex must have sensed me frowning against his chest. He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. My ear tingled at that light touch. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About Stoltz. Your Elders. And your Bishop.”

At this moment, in the dazzling sunshine, I was more afraid of the men in black than the Hexenmeister’s terrible Darkness. “You have a plan? A plan to free Herr Stoltz?”

“Not exactly. If they found Stoltz, they’re going to be on a witch-hunt.”

“We are a nonviolent people, but . . .” I sighed. “It seems that their word is law. Now more than ever . . . and for things beyond the Ordnung. Without discussion.”

He kissed the top of my bonnet. “Then, I should go.”

“Go where?” I blinked up at him. “No. The vampires will have you before the moon comes up.”

“Yeah, well. Better me than you. And it’s not like I’m going to last here for long, anyway.”

“You are safe here, under the hex sign. And I will bring you food . . .”

“But what about winter? What about when it’s hip-deep in snow and you guys have exhausted your food? You just can’t.”

“Don’t,” I said. My fingers were wound in his shirt buttons. “Don’t leave.”

His head dipped close to mine, and for a moment I thought he meant to kiss me. But then he drew away, slid his arm from behind my neck.

“Look. I don’t want to make it any harder than it already is.” His tone was flat, and he pulled his knees up to his chest, let his elbows rest on them and his hands dangle into space. “I’m a dead man, Bonnet. It’s just a matter of timing now.”

I reached for his hand. “Don’t go.”

He shook his head, stared up at the light in the barn. “Day’s burnt. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, bright and early. Get a head start, that way.”

Tears prickled my eyes, but I nodded sharply. I let his hand go, rose to my feet.

“I will see you tomorrow morning, then,” I said quietly, turning so that he couldn’t see my face. “I’ll bring you some provisions.”

“Thanks.” He looked up at me. “I mean it. You’ve done a great thing for me, Bonnet. Your God would be pleased.”

I nodded. “And your god will be pleased to see you soon.”

I had hoped . . .

Ja.
I had hoped for many things. A normal life. A taste of freedom. Maybe some Coca-Cola and a movie once in a while.

But those things had dissipated, and I was left with smaller hopes. Like hoping that the stranger would stay. That, somehow, he
could.

I had hoped.

After all, I had no one left. Not even to talk to about the Darkness falling over us.

I trudged back to my house, feeling the lowering sun on my back through the fabric of my dress. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe our fates were inevitable, and the rest was just timing.

I scrubbed my sleeve across my face.

A scrap of fate from my old life was waiting for me on the back step when I returned. Elijah. His crutches were nowhere in sight. Inwardly, I cringed when I saw him. I nodded curtly at him, sidestepped him to get to the door.

“Katie.” He reached up and grabbed my hand.

I looked down at him frostily. “Good evening, Elijah.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I have chores to do.”

He shook his head. “They can wait.”

He pulled on my arm, drew me down to the top step. I jerked my arm away and folded my hands in my lap. Maybe if I let him say his piece, he’d go away. I stared out at the field, back in the direction in which I’d come, toward sunshine.

“I’m sorry.”

I flicked a glance at him, said nothing.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you. I . . . know that things have been hard. Hard on all of us.”

I nodded, swallowed. “You did what you had to do. You miss your brothers.” I felt their loss too, like a void in our familiar landscape.

“But I knew better than to push that on you. And I knew better than to take up with Ruth.”

I didn’t care to imagine what all “take up” encompassed. The shadow of a red-tailed hawk soared overhead. I envied him his freedom, his power as he hunted. He was beholden to nobody, to no one’s rules. I wondered if he knew that the ravens had left.

“I was wrong.”

“Ruth is gone,” I said as I watched the hawk plunge into the field, his wings cupped to break his descent as he disappeared under the sea of blond grass.

“She’s gone . . . but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for you.”

I didn’t say anything. I watched the grass rustle, thought I heard a squeak.

“I heard what you did yesterday for Ruth, for her family. You showed . . . such faith and courage. Such obedience to God. You did what no one else would do.”

“Frau Gerlach was there.”

“You know what I mean. You were . . . I am in awe of you.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

Elijah got in front of me, knelt down, obstructing my view of the field. He grabbed my hands in his clammy ones. “Katie, will you marry me?”

I stared at him, hard. My gaze felt like the hawk’s, as if I saw beneath him. Saw the core of him. He wasn’t a bad man. Just human.

I lifted my gaze to watch the hawk take off, soaring above the field with a mouse in his talons. My heart soared with him, singing and free.

“No,” I said.

I disentangled my hands from his, turned around, and disappeared into the house.

***

My mother was making dinner. Sarah was helping, mashing potatoes with great concentration. My father sat at the head of the table. I noticed that there was an extra place set.

I walked past them, toward the stairs to my room.

“Katie,” my father said, his voice stopping me on the second step. He was smiling, a smile that reached the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.

“Yes, Father?”

“Do you have some news for me?”

I glanced out the back door. Elijah had asked for my father’s blessing before he asked me to marry him. I balled my hand into a fist and hid it in my skirt.

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t.”

I climbed the steps, hearing my mother whispering something below me. I walked into my room and shut the door behind me. My gaze fell immediately on the wooden
Rumspringa
money box Elijah had made for me. It sat on the floor. I knew it was empty. I kicked it under the bed.

Ginger sat up in bed, hands folded on her lap. She stared vacantly at the wall, her mouth turned down.

“Ginger?”

Her eyes slowly turned to mine. “Hello, Katie.”

I came to sit beside her on the bed. I fingered the crochet work in her basket. “This is pretty.”

“Thank you.” Her hand stroked it softly, as if it were a kitten.

Her sadness was so real, so tangible. And more. I could see in her dead gaze that she’d given up.

I reached for her wrist, shook it. “Ginger.”

She lowered her eyes. There was no spark of hope left in them. No tears, even. Just aloneness.

“The vampires are here, aren’t they?” she whispered.

“Yes, Ginger. They’re here. You know that they’ve been here. They took the cows.”

She nodded to herself, stared at the quilt. “That’s good. It’ll be over soon.”

I grasped her wrist harder. “You can’t just lie down and give up,” I insisted. She’d grown despondent since her cell phone had been destroyed. Without that link to the Outside world, she’d fallen into a deeper and deeper depression—one I could not shake her from.

She gave a small shrug. “There’s nothing left for me. This isn’t my world.” She looked down at her dress. “This isn’t who I am. I’m just”—she sighed—“waiting.”

I put my arms around her, but she didn’t cry. She just sat there, still as the bodies of the women I’d handled yesterday.