Immortality remained a relative term. They existed on borrowed time, surviving by God’s will. Salvation required balance, good and evil, light to counter the darkness. Without that delicate balance, honor and duty would be overshadowed by disgrace and greed. The undead would mingle with the living, preying, violating, and pillaging without restraint or conscience. Failure, such as his brother’s failure, would rain like a plague, bathing the world in blood and sin until darkness was all that remained.
This was the consequence of disregard for God’s plan. God’s calling was their kind’s greatest blessing, but when left unanswered, it withered into an incurable curse.
“As soon as you hear the gun shot, Jonas, run and do not stop until you reach the farm.”
“I should wait for you, Father.”
Ezekiel shook his head, unsure if he’d escape alive. “Do as you’re told.”
He lifted the rifle and trained it on his brother, knowing the first shot would only anger the beast within. But there was nothing else to be done.
“I’m sorry, dear brother...”
Chapter One
Lancaster, Pennsylvania
Present Day
Adam’s mind jolted awake to the crushing agony of loss. Bone deep sorrow and instant regret stole his breath as he jackknifed off the bed. The house stood as still and dark as a tomb, yet he sensed his mother’s fear as intensely as if it were his own.
Pulse thundering, he scrambled to his feet, only to double over and catch his weight on the bed as he pressed a hand to the piercing pain in his chest. Not his pain, but hers. Panic, regret, loss, and heartache splintered through his ribs like jagged ice. So familiar with his mother’s emotions, he instantly identified her as the source.
Confusion shifted to impotent fury as his father came awake in the room above, his potent emotions knifed up Adam’s back.
“Abilene?” Adam heard his father’s deep timber through the ceiling, and the concern vibrating his voice.
“Jonas,” his mother wept. “Make it stop.”
He knew in that moment, as his parents’ fear clouded his own, another babe might be lost. Adam’s sorrow tangled with their intruding emotions.
His bare feet scuffed over the cool wood floor as he reached for his clothes in the dark. His gaze scanned the shadows, listening for the confirmation he’d heard too many times before. His mother’s cries cut through the chilled air, from the floor above, and Adam lowered his head, knowing his suspicions to be true. She’d lost another.
Concern pushed into his mind, and he quickly tugged his pants off the peg on the wall, sensing his younger sister, Grace, approaching. He hooked his suspenders over his bare shoulders and took a step back just as the door swung wide. Gracie’s elfin figure filled the cavity.
Tears shimmered in her bright blue eyes. “It’s Mother. Adam, she’s losing another one.”
He pulled her into his arms, lending his strength as well as comfort. She had such a big heart, her emotions cut into him like razorblades lacerating his insides.
“You must be brave, Gracie. We all must be strong for Mother.”
“And Father,” she whispered. “This will destroy him.”
“Have faith. Father is stronger than we realize.”
She gazed up at him and nodded with borrowed, feeble courage. But unlike Adam, who only felt others’ emotions, his sister heard their most private thoughts. And in the silence, when emotions ran high and thoughts were less guarded, Grace’s telepathy always got the better of others.
Her bravery crumbled and tears rushed to her eyes. “Oh, Adam, why does God keep taking her babies?”
He tightened his arms and pressed a kiss to her head. Long waves of dark hair dwarfed her already petite size. So rarely did he see her without her bonnet, her unadorned head only added to her innocent appearance. Although Gracie was an adult, she’d always maintain a childlike quality in his eyes.
“We mustn’t blame God,” he whispered. “Always trust that He has a plan for us.”
“Then who can we blame? This isn’t supposed to happen to immortal females.”
He wished he had the answers she sought. “Faith is based on trust, Grace. We must trust God’s plan. It is not our place to question that which we cannot know.” When he sensed a pending argument, he said, “You should see if you can be of assistance upstairs.”
As a male, he would not be welcome into his mother’s private quarters under such circumstances. Grace, on the other hand, was expected to lend her services in such situations. But as an empath, Adam was drowning in their turmoil thrumming through the ceiling, and had little shelter from the onslaught. If Grace could ease their mother’s anxieties it would go a long way toward salvaging his strength.
She unlatched her arms from around his waist and stepped back. “I can’t. Not yet. She’s so... I simply can’t bear her thoughts.”
Adam could sense the shame washing over his mother, while Grace heard all the disgraceful thoughts ruminating through her head. By morning, they would both be wrung out and raw. Yet, their mother would bear the worst of it.