Keene Brian - A Gathering of Crows

“No,” Levi said again, softer this time. “I’m sorry. That came out sounding harsher than I meant. But no, I won’t teach Randy. I won’t teach anyone.”

“Why not?”

Levi paused. At first, Donny didn’t think he was going to answer the question. He stuffed the sage in his pocket and glanced around the room. Then he looked back up at Donny.

“When I wanted to learn about other disciplines— other workings—my father balked, so I went elsewhere. In my former faith, young people are given a year to explore the outside world and determine if they really want to commit to the Amish way of life. I used my year to learn. I went outside of our community on a pilgrimage of sorts and sought out the training of others. I was young and arrogant and brash, and so certain that I was better than my father or anyone else.”

“You said earlier that arrogance is a sin.”

“And it is,” Levi said. “I was sinful. I didn’t see it that way at the time, though. I was so righteous in my desire to be one of God’s chosen warriors, using the enemy’s own tricks against them. And I was right. Powwow wouldn’t have been effective against some of the foes the Lord has led me to face over the years. I’ve had to use other methods. My father thought that me learning those methods was a blasphemy against God, but I disagreed. I learned those methods to further God’s will. Eventually, my insistence led to my downfall. I was cast out of my community, disowned by my family and forced to leave the only home I’d ever known. Sent out to live among the English—our term for the outside world. I was just about Randy’s age when this happened.”

“When what happened? They disowned you just for learning magic?”

“No. At least, not just for that. Something else happened.”

“What was it?”

Levi didn’t respond.

“Levi, why did they kick you out?”

“There was a girl. Her name was Rebecca. I…”

“Yeah?”

“I loved her. I’d known her all my life. We grew up together, much like you and Marsha. She was… impacted… by something I did. Something decidedly darker than powwow. Something I’d accidentally unleashed. And when I tried to undo what had happened, Rebecca… she…”

“Go on,” Donny urged. “I’m listening.”

“Never mind. We don’t have time for this now.”

Levi strode toward the door. His expression was grim and purposeful. Donny reached for him as he passed by, but Levi shrugged him off. He reached the door, paused, tilted his head and then opened the door. He hurried outside. Donny rushed after him.

“Hey.” He grabbed Levi’s elbow. “Listen, man. I’m sorry if I pissed you off back there.”

Levi smiled sadly. “You didn’t. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve had to talk about it—Rebecca and everything else. Doing so feels like ripping a scab off before the wound has healed. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. Believe me, I know the feeling. And for what it’s worth, Levi, I’m sorry you lost your home.”

Levi patted his hand. “Well, let’s just make sure we save yours. I know you said that you don’t think of Brinkley Springs as your home, but ask yourself this: If this isn’t home, then why are you fighting for it? If you’re not fighting for the town, then who are you fighting for? Are you doing this for Marsha? If so, then perhaps she is your home?”

Donny opened his mouth to respond, but Levi silenced him with a finger.

“No,” he said. “Don’t answer me. Just think about it. It’s like the old saying goes—home is where the heart is. What you need to ask yourself, Donny, is where does your heart lie?”

Once Greg, his brother and Paul were safe in Axel’s cellar, they’d recounted everything they knew, sparing Jean’s son the gorier details. After that, they’d grown quiet. Greg kept expecting Paul to urge them back outside again, but he seemed to have abandoned his insistence that they go for help, opting instead to just stay where they were. So they did. Bobby huddled in his mother’s lap. Jean kept one arm wrapped protectively around her son. Axel hummed a tuneless version of “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” Gus just stared straight ahead at the wall. Paul breathed heavy through his nose, and at one point, Greg thought the mountain man had fallen asleep.

Eventually, Greg broke the silence by saying, “I reckon the Mountaineers are going to have a good season this year. Might go all the way.”

He paused, waiting for a response, but Gus, Paul, Axel, Jean and Bobby only stared at him. He couldn’t really see them all that well in the darkness because Paul had made Axel blow out the candles after their arrival. But Greg didn’t need to see them to know that they were staring at him. He could feel their eyes upon him. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling foolish.

“Well, that’s what I think, at least. They got a fella from New Jersey. A good Christian boy. Come out of the ghetto in Newark and has one hell of an arm on him. Studying to be a horticulturist or some such thing.”

Gus stirred. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me? I’m just talking college football. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“How can you be talking sports at a time like this? How in the world would you think that’s appropriate, Greg?”

Greg shrugged and propped his feet up on the kerosene heater. Axel had told them that the unit wasn’t working, so Greg wasn’t worried about burning his shoes.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It was just so quiet. We’re all sitting here and ain’t none of us talking. I just thought some conversation might lift our spirits.”

“He’s right,” Paul murmured.

“You want to talk sports?” Gus sounded incredulous.

“No, I don’t mean that. I couldn’t care less about football right now. But Greg is right about it being quiet. There hasn’t been a sound from outside in quite a while.”

“Do you think it’s over with?” Jean asked. “Could they be gone?”

“Maybe,” Gus said, “but I ain’t sticking my head out there to see.”

“One of us should,” Axel replied. “It doesn’t make much sense for us to be sitting down here freezing our butts off in the dark if the danger is over with. At the very least, we’ve got to alert the authorities like you boys had originally planned.”

“Still do plan on it,” Paul said. “Soon as we get out of here.”

“You didn’t seem in a hurry to leave,” Greg pointed out.

“Neither did you,” Paul snapped. “And besides, I figured we could use a rest.”

“Well…” Greg sighed. “We got one. And our situation ain’t changed none while we were sitting here on our asses. I reckon Axel is right. We should go check.”

“You go right ahead,” Gus said. “I’m staying down here.”

Paul stood up. “We’ll all go. That’s the safest way.” Jean hugged her son tighter. “Bobby’s not going anywhere until we know for sure it’s safe.”

The men glanced down at her and then back to Paul.

“She’s right,” Greg said. “Don’t seem right to send the boy outside with us.”

“No,” Paul agreed. “I don’t guess it does. Jean and Bobby, you stay here. We’ll let you know if the coast is clear.”

Gus and Greg got to their feet. Groaning, Axel did the same. He put his hands on his hips and arched his back. His joints popped loudly.

“Damn arthritis,” he muttered. “Sitting around in this damp basement hasn’t improved it at all.”

Bobby reached for Axel. “Mr. Perry, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with me and Mommy.”

Greg noticed the emotion on the old man’s face as he turned to look at the boy. Axel looked happy and sad all at the same time. He shuffled over to where Jean and Bobby sat and handed the boy his gnarled old walking stick.