Called to Order (3 page)

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Authors: Lydia Michaels

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Romantic Erotica

BOOK: Called to Order
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Adam did not understand what it was that had his mother so withdrawn around his father as of late. Perhaps it was shame in having miscarried again, but Adam saw that as an act of nature, one she could not have altered. He knew some men among The Order were known to discipline their wives, but he had never seen his father raise a hand in anger in all of his thirty-seven years on this earth. Perhaps they were merely having a lover’s quarrel and things would mend on their own. Either way, he hoped things would mend soon. As things stood now, he had no desire to approach his surly father with more complicated news.

He, Cain, and Gracie ate in silence while their parents drank from pewter goblets filled with warm crimson liquid. It seemed his mother was not the only one lacking an appetite these days. His food tasted like sawdust on his tongue, lacking any distinguishing flavor, warmth, or texture. It was getting worse, the dizziness, the dreams, the sensitivity to the sun. He would have to come clean soon.

Before he could swallow his dry mouthful of whatever flavorless morsel he was chewing, Gracie gasped. All eyes shot to her direction. She sat, mouth open, fork suspended midway to her mouth, her large eyes staring back at him. He realized too late that he was not guarding his thoughts. All eyes followed Gracie’s gaze and settled uncomfortably on him. Adam tried to offer a subtle shake of his head, silently asking Gracie to suppress her surprise, but it was too late.

“Adam? Is everything all right?”

Adam turned to his father, wincing at the concern in his eyes. He glanced back at Grace, who quickly gave an apologetic shake of her head and returned her attention to her supper, no longer seeming to have an appetite but still mimicking the proper motions.

Telepathy was a collective sense most humans did not possess, however their species did on varying levels. For the most part, all members of The Order could impose thoughts on humans who were less aware of their conscious abilities and therefore of a weaker cognition. This was an ability mainly used for survival, a means for compelling a human donor in order to feed.

There were also advanced levels of telepathy their kind referred to as gifts or disciplines. Adam’s gift was sensing emotion. Adam’s sister Gracie’s gift was overhearing thoughts. She could pick up threads of mental dialogue here and there, but she was still young and still trying to hone her gift. Adam would often help her practice by playing I Spy. He would select a random item in the room and Gracie would try to pluck clues from his mind. Presently, he regretted helping Gracie hone her skill to such perfection. His mother, whose primary gift was loving her family, now seemed needlessly concerned.

Abilene’s eyes wavered from him to his father, to Grace, and back to him. Only Cain seemed unconcerned by their sister’s outburst.

“Adam, dear, is everything all right?” his mother asked.

“It is fine, Mother. Everything’s fine.”

Cain let out a quiet huff of laughter, but continued stuffing his face. Abilene did not miss his brother’s amusement. Her frown deepened. “What’s going on? Gracie?” Grace froze, clearly reluctant to betray her brother.

“Someone better tell me what’s going on right now,” their father announced as he caught Cain’s hand reaching for a second helping of potatoes.

“Hey,” Cain protested.

“Nothing. Nothing is going on,” Grace amended.

“Cain?”

“Hey, I just want to eat.”

“You can eat when I know what has Gracie upset. Adam?”

Adam gave one last resigned look around the table then braced himself for the inevitable. “I’ve got the
calling
. I can sense her. She’s near.”

Chapter 2

Once Jonas had settled Abilene down, he went directly to his father’s home. Ezekiel Hartzler, at almost three hundred years, was a member of the Elder’s Council. He had been the patriarch of the Hartzler family since the late nineteen twenties when the eldest Hartzler, Ezekiel’s brother Isaiah, left The Order never to return. Isaiah was now considered rogue, a label he’d earned after not returning after receiving the
calling
.

Other than the required jaunts into town to conduct business, their kind didn’t much leave their land. Unlike other Amish societies, their order did not promote
Rumspringa
, a running-around time adolescents experienced just prior to adulthood where they would temporarily live amongst the English. If they chose to return it was just that, a choice to be baptized as a permanent part of their Amish order. Jonas’s kind experienced no such choice.

The Order was something one was born into and could only be executed out of. There were no excommunications as in other human sects. Members only left for extended periods to follow the
calling
of their human mate, a calling not every immortal experienced. Being one of the
called
was the one and only case exposure was pardoned to an extent. Because the calling was a sort of cosmic pull between an immortal and their sometimes-human counterpart, it was necessary to enlighten those predisposed mortals of their species.

However, if a mortal mate chose not to join The Order, their memories would be erased by the elders, removing any proof of their specie’s existence before they were deposited back into the modern world. The last time this had occurred was in the seventeen hundreds. The vampyre whose mate chose not to stay had to eventually be executed. The rejection of his mate was something his baser needs could not accept, thus causing him to eventually go mad, an outcome The Order preferred to avoid. Such was why, when a member of The Order was
called
, it was their duty to answer the
calling
. Otherwise they could easily become a danger to the rest of their species, losing control of their actions, and eventually risking exposure through the carnage left in their wake.

The Order’s laws were simple, no exposure. The laws of their Amish faith placed some restrictions on what their kind could and could not do, but were largely followed without argument since their arrival to America in 1738 by way of the great ship
The Charming Nancy
. By the early eighteenth century, the conditions in Europe had become intolerable. Rogue outbreaks among their kind had led to slaughter. The dead masqueraded as victims of plague. It was known even then that their species did not need to kill in order to feed, yet there was no governing set of rules and consequences. Eventually, rivers ran red from the carnage, and the devastation was too great. Nine males and nine females fled the continent with ideas of a more peaceful future. It was among the Amish that they found the privacy and sanctuary for their kind.

Ezekiel greeted Jonas in the study, dressed formally as always in his black slacks, black dress shirt, and tidy black suspenders. Although Ezekiel was almost one hundred and fifty years older than Jonas, they each appeared no older than their late twenties. His shoulder-length, black hair and glowing hazel eyes were identical to his father’s. Both men possessed a rugged six-foot-two build with an imposing, muscular breadth that would impress even their kind. Despite the years separating father and son, they could easily be mistaken for twins. Their years of working the land accompanied with a steady diet of organically raised animal blood gave their skin a healthy bronze glow. The only telltale mark that told them apart was the streak of white hair his father had acquired after the disappearance of his brother some eighty years ago. It was an odd marking for an immortal to have, as they rarely scarred nor could they alter their appearance in any way.

“What brings you by this evening, my son?” Ezekiel embraced Jonas with affection, handing over his glass of brandy only to pour himself another. “Here, you look as though you need this more than I at the moment.”

“That I do.” Jonas gladly took the tumbler from his father and sunk into a sturdy wing-backed chair facing the mantle. In this heat there would be no fire burning within the grandiose fireplace. He finished the drink in one swallow and placed the glass on the end table. Leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees, he forked his fingers through his hair.

The tinkling of his glass being refilled and the quiet clank of the decanter being left by its side accompanied his father’s approach. “Well, my boy, what has got you so agitated this night? Something serious I suspect. Is Abilene doing better?”

“Abilene is recovering well, or at least she was. She has found cause for tears once more.” His father tilted his head, encouraging him to go on. “It’s Adam. He has been
called
.”

Always in control of his emotions, Ezekiel hid his surprise well, yet Jonas saw the moment his father truly comprehended his words. “Is the boy sure?”

“Yes. He is without appetite, the sun is irritating him of late, his equilibrium is off, and he tells me he has had several dreams.” Dreams were not common occurrences among their kind. Although they did not rest often, when they did sleep, they slept like the dead. Scholars of their kind had done studies over the years proving that even brain waves were undetectable during a deep sleep. With nary a brain wave there would be no dreams, yet during the
calling
it seemed as though a mate’s senses awoke from a lifetime of hibernation with more sensory activity than some could process.

“Did he see her in the dreams?”

“He says no. He tells me he only gleaned a glimpse of images, a scent, the feel of her flesh, the color of her hair.”

“That sounds accurate. I remember when I was called to your mother, my first dream was only an image of a brown frock. You could imagine how common brown frocks were in those days. However, it was the scent of her skin that told her apart from all the rest. I memorized that scent, clung to it, so much so that it followed me around, clouded my head like a swarm of gnats. As time passes he will gain more clues through his dreams to help him locate her.”

“How long do you suspect he has?” Jonas was worried and did not miss the slight crease in his father’s brow.

“I suspect,” he began cautiously, “only Adam can determine that. Each immortal’s tolerance is different. Once a male or female experiences the
calling
there is only a short amount of time before they will turn feral. An animalistic need for their mate will eventually take over their senses, removing the layers of our acquired humanity with each passing moment, until there is nothing human left, only a rabid beast needing to be put down. Let us hope, in Adam’s case, his calling is still in the early stages.”

“He has been keeping this from us for some time. After questioning him, I discovered he has been suffering mild symptoms for at least a fortnight.”

“Why did he not confess this to you immediately?”

“I suspect he was worried after Abilene losing the babe that the news could push her over the edge.”

Ezekiel took a patient breath and seemed to choose his words carefully. “Jonas, my boy, I know that it is private, the business between a male and his wife, but you must make her understand that Adam needs to find his mate and he needs to begin his search immediately. If he waits, if he ignores his
calling
, his nature will take over, and that is a guaranteed recipe for losing another son.”

“I know and Abilene knows this as well. She has just...” Jonas took a shuddered breath. “She has just lost so many. This was the fifth miscarriage in a decade. I believe she feels that Larissa, Gracie, and the twins are all she will ever have. The idea of sending Adam away frightens her.”

“Understandable, but Abilene has always remained a little sheltered. She chose to marry you by age twenty. It was only your mother and I that prolonged the engagement in case you yourself were
called
. And don’t look at me like that. We love Abilene and we know you love her as well. Still, there is always a risk in choosing a spouse before destiny
calls
her for you. You were taking a risk as I told you the day you proposed. You are both still young. Who is to say that your true mate will still not call you? Who is to say that Abilene won’t be
called
herself some day?”

“Abilene is my true mate.” Jonas growled at the idea of anyone else touching his beloved wife.

“One can only hope. My point is that there is no ignoring the
call
. Once it grabs you, there is no overlooking it. If Adam waits too long it will destroy him. He must find her before it is too late.”

Jonas knew his father was remembering Uncle Isaiah. If Isaiah was still alive, chances were he was nothing like the strong, compassionate male they knew and loved almost a century ago. He had never returned with his mate, which left only three possibilities. He had either relocated with her and was living in hiding amongst the English, a very dangerous life for their kind and generally forbidden among The Order. He was dead. Or he was rogue, running rabid and killing without conscious.

The only way to suppress the call of one’s mate was to blood-bond. An exchange of blood during mating was the only antidote for the acquired madness that sometimes overtook the
called
. So much so, that like his father said, if a male like himself were to be
called
, he would have no other choice but to abandon his family and his wife in order to find his true mate. It was something Jonas prayed he would never have to face.

There was no ignoring the
call
, no way to silence the beast they each kept leashed behind the veil of humanity. The thirst was said to be unbearable, a craving only satisfied by the blood of a true mate. As time ran out, what was once a strategic pursuit could become a frenzied unapologetic hunt, a game of human roulette where victims were bled dry. The longer one’s mate remained elusive, the more humans died. It would be blood lust at its worst. It would be genocide.

Prior to losing one’s mind, the appetite for food became nonexistent. There was no hunger, only thirst, a thirst, which only a mate’s blood could absolve. Then there was the tolerance of the sun. Exposure to daylight was said to become excruciating, a pain so great the
called
were eventually run to ground and from then on became nocturnal creatures. Emotions would become nothing more than memories, echoes of mortal feelings long forgotten. The called would eventually become the
unanswered
. They risked becoming beasts more animalistic than human. A beast too long unanswered
would be a creature no human would have the strength to tame. Even the beast’s true mate would be incapable of bringing him back. It would be a futile endeavor, too much time wasted, all hope lost. That was when the called became truly lost. That was when they became
daemon,
demon,
a creature with no salvation, a creature that must be destroyed.

His father’s movement drew Jonas from his disturbing musings. Ezekiel sat down at the large cherry desk in the corner of the study and withdrew a ledger from the top drawer. He made a note then unlocked a lower drawer and removed a crisp envelope that seemed filled to the gills.

“Here is ten thousand dollars. I will go with you to give it to Adam. He must leave before dawn. I will inform the elders of his whereabouts. I will petition that they give him one month to seek and return with his mate under the guise of
Rumspringa
. I would ask for longer, but I don’t believe they would agree to it. In the past century they have preferred to keep such matters ‘contained.’” Jonas took the money with shaky hands. “It will be all right, Jonas. Adam is strong and sensible. He will find her and do what he must.”

* * * *

Adam placed the last of his items in his suitcase and tried to ignore Cain. His father had gone to speak with his grandfather and Grace was keeping an eye on their mother. It wasn’t that he was afraid, he simply was reluctant to leave his family.

“What if she’s fat with bucked teeth?” Cain asked as he examined one of Adam’s whittled figurines resting on the bureau in Adam’s bedroom. Adam removed the fragile, hand carved fox from his brother’s hand and returned it to its rightful place.

“I am sure she will be suitable to my tastes.”

“You don’t even have taste to go by,” Cain corrected.

“Just because I do not sully every unattached female on the farm like you, brother, does not mean I have not sampled the fairer sex.”

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