The Hallowed Ones

I lowered my head. “Yes, Herr Stoltz. It saved my life.”

“The Darkness has come.” He leaned back in his chair, letting it creak against the scarred floor as he rocked. He looked up into space, at a cobweb in the corner.

“What do you know about the Darkness?” I asked timidly.

He rocked vigorously in his chair as he spoke. “The Darkness has always been a part of mankind. I have never seen it myself, mind you. Only heard stories about it from the Hexenmeister before me.”

I laced my hands together in my lap. “What did he say?”

“Not all Plain folk came to America solely for reasons of political and religious persecution. Europe had become crowded. It was difficult to buy any land of one’s own and not swear fealty to some minor land baron. Our little group of Plain folk could not have truly sacred land. Land that was immune to the Darkness.”

“The Darkness . . . existed back then? In the eighteenth century?” My brow furrowed. I knew the stories of our ancestors being forced to worship in secret, at night, in secluded forests and caves. I now wondered if there was more reason than persecution for that.

“In those days, people were wiser to the true nature of evil. We were different than other Plain folk in that regard. We knew about the Darkness, and we fought it with the tools we had available to us: the hex signs, the Himmelsbrief . . . and in other ways. We would sever the heads of the dead, stuff their mouths with garlic, burn them with fire. It was ugly . . . but it worked.”

I could not imagine desecrating a corpse like that. “And they were able to contain this contagion?”

“Then, yes. Remember that this was a long time ago. Fewer people. When we saw the glint of evil, we would destroy it before it grew too large to control. Now”—he waved a hand around the room—“we have forgotten. Become complacent. People saw no Darkness and no need to teach the means to stop it to recent generations. Now it festers.”

“As it festers here,” I whispered.

The Hexenmeister stared at me under bushy eyebrows. “You’ve seen them.”

“Ja. I have seen them. They only come out at night, with their teeth and their claws.” I rolled up my sleeve to show the Hexenmeister my scratch. “The Outsiders call these creatures vampires . . .”

Herr Stoltz frowned at the scratch, muttered: “Outsiders.”

“You heard it. The Elders have decided that the Outsider woman is crazy,” I said. I shied away from the topic of Alex.

The old man’s eyes darkened. “They are fools. The Outsiders are no more or less pure than we are. We simply have . . . we have the knowledge to stop the Darkness.”

I leaned forward on the stool. “You have the knowledge. You have the power to make Himmelsbriefen. And the hex signs.” My hand swept around to indicate his workshop. “You can keep us safe.”

The Hexenmeister snorted. “They would have to believe that I could help them, believe that the Darkness is here.” He gestured to me with his chin. “That was why I gave you the Himmelsbrief. You would believe. You had seen it.”

My mind froze in its tracks. “How did you know?”

A thin smile curled over his lips. “Few things escape the observation of a crazy old man with no supervision. I saw you leave the other day, saw you go over the gate with your bicycle.”

I stared down at the floor. I’d been caught. I was finished.

“And I know that you are hiding the Outsider man.”

I shut my eyes. Alex and I were both finished.

“I went back to the field after the Elders had left to look for the man myself.” The Hexenmeister’s chair creaked rhythmically against the floor. “I wanted to see what he was, to see if he had any Darkness in him. If he did, I brought my saw to take his head.”

I shuddered.

“If not”—he shrugged—“I probably would have done the same as you did. But he was not there when I returned.”

“How did . . . how did you know that it was my doing?”

“You left a canning jar beside the fence, half-full of water. Of all the people who saw that man, you were the only one who had any sympathy for him.” He smiled. “I took your jar and roughed up the tracks in the grass you left with your sledge. I hoped that the Elders would think that he had recovered and walked away. Or that animals had taken him.”

My throat tightened. “He’s not a vampire. I have seen him in daylight.”

Herr Stoltz chuckled. “I know, child. If he were, you would be dead.” He leaned forward to cup my face in his hands. “You merely have a large heart. And a rebellious spirit.” He tapped my nose with his index finger.

“Will you . . . will you tell the Elders?” I squeaked.

“No. There would be no good purpose achieved by that.”

“Will you make a Himmelsbrief for everyone?” I asked.

“I will try.” His mouth creased. “But they must believe in the Darkness first. They must believe that they are in danger, that evil has fallen upon us . . .”

A knock sounded at the front door, startling me. The Hexenmeister’s runny eyes turned to the door. “Huh. I’ve had more visitors today than in the past year.” He rose, stumped to the door.

One of the congregation members I dimly recognized was there. I’d seen him yesterday, with the gathering in my yard. He was the one who’d asked about the cattle, who had seemed most dubious of the Elders’ explanation. He was out of breath, his beard shaking, hands braced on his knees.

“Herr Stoltz, come quick,” he panted.

“What is the matter?”

“There’s been murder . . . not just murder . . . a slaughter.” He shook his head, as if to clear it, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Where?” The Hexenmeister reached for his hat.

“The Hersberger house.”

* * *

There had never been a murder in our community.

Never. Not in all the time that I had lived there. Not in all the time that my parents had lived here, or my grandparents. Not ever.

We were simply not capable of it.

I rode in the back of a buggy with the Hexenmeister and the man who’d raised the alarm in front, driving. He refused to speak of what he’d seen, despite our prodding. He just sat and sweated.

I saw Herr Stoltz slip a parchment envelope into his jacket pocket.

I asked him: “Is that—?”

He nodded and whispered, “This old man won’t go anywhere unarmed these days.”

I grasped his sleeve. I was glad that the Hexenmeister was protecting himself. He could be our only hope.

The buggy stopped in front of the Hersberger house and I climbed out with trepidation. There were already a half-dozen people whispering in the yard. The Elders had not yet arrived.

The crowd parted for the Hexenmeister. It seemed as if, in their fear, they recognized some of his ancient authority. He stumped up the porch, paused before the door. His hand pressed to his chest, he recited the Lord’s Prayer.

I shied away, stepping down to stay with the rest of the Plain folk.

Herr Stoltz grasped my arm. “No, Katie. You come with me. I will need your help.”

I nodded, my mouth dry.

He pushed open the door.

I smelled blood, immediately, and my stomach churned. Bile filled the back of my throat, and I vomited on the front step.

The Hexenmeister waited patiently for me, motioned for me to cross the threshold behind him.

“Gott in Himmel,” he whispered.