Laura Bickle - The Hallowed Ones

His eyes were wide, shocked. “I just came to tell you that . . . I forgive you.”

I put my face close to his, snarled: “ I don’t care. I don’t care what you think of me, what you approve of, what you forgive. You are not my God.”

“But we’re to be together,” he said plaintively.

“No,” I said. “Not you. Not ever. Not even after the vampires chew us up and spit us out, and we’re all dead, rotting meat waiting in line for the kingdom of heaven or the road to hell. Not ever.”

His gaze darkened. It wasn’t the blasphemy that angered him. It was the rejection.

He struck me. He hit me hard across the face, sending me tumbling to the floor. I lifted my head and growled at him, “Get out!”

He stood over me, his hand clenching my dress collar. His breath was hot on my face. “How could you give yourself to that Outsider? That stranger?”

I lifted my chin. “Because he didn’t try to control me.”

“I’ll show you control.” He grabbed my wrist and the hem of my dress, then sat on me.

I opened my mouth to scream, but he jammed his hand over my mouth.

“You never screamed in his arms,” he snarled.

Something struck my window. It sounded small, insignificant. Like a pebble hitting glass. It barely registered to me, but Elijah froze.

“Oh no,” he cried out.

I reached up, dug my thumb into his eye.

He howled and fell back against the bed. I kicked him off of me, backed away.

“You get the hell away from me,” I said. “You monster.”

He pressed his hand over his wounded eye, but the other eye rolled fearfully to the window. “I’m not a monster. Not like them.”

I glanced at the window, down into the yard.

And then I understood. I understood everything with perfect clarity.

I understood why the Darkness had fallen over us. Why my parents had not come running when they heard the scuffle on the second floor. I even understood why Ruth had died.

Two vampires stood in the backyard, staring up at my window. They were pale and gaunt, like spiders, the shadow cast by the moon driven before them.

“Elijah,” one of them said. “Come to us.”

“Elijah,” the other said. “Don’t you miss us?”

They were dressed as Plain folk, but their white shirts were stained with blood from neck to waist. I knew them. Seth and Joseph.

“You left us a note that said you missed us.”

I turned to Elijah, who sat stupidly on the floor, crying and holding his eye. “You knew they were here.”

“Ja,” he sobbed. “I saw them at dusk, five nights ago. I took my father’s wagon to go and get some fresh air . . . I was tired of being cooped up in the house. And I saw them, standing just beyond the gate, on the road. They called to me. Like now.”

I sucked in my breath. “You let them in.”

I heard a scraping outside the house. I stifled a scream as I whirled and saw Joseph peering through the window, stroking the screen. I reached up and slammed the window glass so hard it cracked a pane. Joseph laughed, and I heard him drop to the ground as lightly as a cat from a fence.

I whirled back to Elijah. “How could you let them in?”

He lowered his head. “I was so happy to see them . . . you can’t imagine. But they blew past me like leaves.”

“Why didn’t they kill you?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think they remember me.”

“No. They have no sentimentality.” I kicked him in the ribs. “Why didn’t they kill you?”

“I don’t know,” he whimpered.

I grabbed his jacket, dug through his pockets. My fingers closed around a piece of paper. When I pulled it out, it was parchment. I shook it in front of his nose like a dog who’d had an accident. “Where did you get this?”

“Herr Stoltz made it for me.”

I opened it up, expecting a Himmelsbrief. But it was an elaborately painted document, showing stylized doves and hearts and tulips. In the Hexenmeister’s hand, the words Grow old with me were printed in Hochdeutsch. A list of ministers’ signatures endorsed Elijah’s character. Both our names were printed on it, with space for us to sign.

It was a Zeugnis, a marriage contract. I let it flutter to the floor. Some of the Hexenmeister’s magic must have worked into it, enough to keep Elijah safe.

I looked down into the yard, and my breath clotted in my throat.

Seth, the youngest, was kneeling down with his arms open. The door creaked open, and a small figure ran across the yard into his embrace.

“No!” I shrieked.

Seth stood up, cradling Sarah. He grinned over his shoulder at me, displaying long teeth and inhuman eyes.

“Come down here, pretty one,” Joseph said. “Come here and we’ll let the little girl go.”

I glared down at Elijah. He rocked back and forth, his hand pressed to his eye. “How dare you bring this to our doorstep!” I cried.

He didn’t answer me. I grabbed the lantern and stepped on the Zeugnis as I left the room.

I descended the stairs. My parents were seated at the table with Ginger, their heads bowed in prayer. I touched my father’s shoulder, but he didn’t respond. I shook him hard, but he didn’t move. Neither did my mother. Ginger stared at her plate with the same catatonic, glassy-eyed stare that I’d grown accustomed to. The vampires had put them under their spell, the same spell that had drawn me out of the house two nights ago. The same spell that had drawn Ruth and Sarah to the door.

My hands balled into fists. I would not allow them to hurt my family.

I clutched the lantern close to my chest, so close that I could feel the heat through my dress. I shoved open the screen door and into the darkness.

Joseph smiled when he saw me, lips peeled back from his teeth. “I was always a bit jealous of Elijah.”

“You had Ruth,” I said, my voice quavering.

He gave a small, boneless shrug. “Ruth was not very interested in me. Not until the end.”

I shuddered, remembering the corpse at the threshold of the Hersberger house. It had not occurred to me that he had slaked appetites other than for blood with her mutilated body.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if Ruth will no longer be the recipient of my ministrations.”

“Ruth’s dead,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“No.” I glanced at Seth, who held Sarah, squirming in his grip. “Let her go. Let my family go. You can have me.”

Joseph laughed. “You overestimate your value. I pressed my ear to your kitchen window. I heard your mother whispering about you being a defiled woman. So Elijah finally got some?”

“Let her go,” I said. “I’ll do anything you want. Willingly.”

Joseph flicked a glance at Seth. “For a moment.”

Seth placed Sarah on her feet. As if sleepwalking, she stumbled back toward the house. I saw her through the safety of the threshold before I turned my attention back to the vampires.

Joseph crooked his finger. “Now. You promised.”

I took a step toward him. Then another.

Then I flung the lantern at his face. He shrieked, clawing at the burning kerosene.

Seth was fast. He grabbed me by the waist, then howled. I struggled to reach into my pocket, hauled out the Himmelsbrief, and waved it in the air like a flag. It seemed to burn him to hold me, and his grip faltered.

“Get off of her.”

I was thrown to the ground by a force that knocked the wind out of me—and Seth off of me. I rolled, gasping for breath, to see a Plain man brandishing a shovel. It made a ringing sound as it collided with the vampire’s head.

My heart soared as I saw the stain of a familiar tattoo on the man’s arm.