A Gathering of Crows

“I found some. I just knew she’d have some on hand. Even an amateur knows about the properties of sage. Now we’re ready.” His gaze darted down to the magazine still in Donny’s hands. “Oh, the Fortean Times. That’s one of my favorite magazines.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. I read it every month.”

“I should have figured you would.”

Levi feigned offense. “I’ll have you know that I also read everything from National Geographic to Soldier of Fortune.”

“How about Penthouse?”

“Only for the articles.” Grinning, Levi pointed to the magazine in Donny’s hand. “That’s an old issue. If I remember correctly, there’s an interesting article about Namibian bloodsuckers in it. Very thought provoking, since the classic chupacabra legends originated in South America.”

“I don’t know about that.” Donny’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “I didn’t read anything about bloodsuckers. I saw a big piece on mermaids.”

“Ah, mermaids.” Levi nodded. “Leviathan’s handmaidens. Beautiful and utterly evil. They’re vampiric, as well, though not in a sense that you’d probably understand. Nasty creatures, to be sure, but not nearly as bad as what we’re facing tonight.”

“Are . . . are the crows vampires?”

Levi frowned. “No, I don’t believe so. They’ve given no indication of such. Something similar to vampires, perhaps, given that they seem to feed on the souls of living things, but I’m not sure yet.”

Donny didn’t respond. With one trembling hand, he put the magazine back on top of the pile.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asked. “You’re sweating.”

“Levi . . . how long have you been involved in this?”

“In what?”

“This.” Donny made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “All of this fucked-up occult stuff.”

Levi lowered his head and stared at the floor. When he looked up again, his voice was softer and his air of self-assuredness was gone. He looked and sounded tired.

“All of my life. I was born into this. My father, Amos, practiced powwow, as did his father before him.”

“So, your dad taught you how to do these things?” Levi shrugged. “Some of them. He certainly taught me powwow, but his lessons—and tolerance— stopped there. He didn’t approve of the other methods I learned. He didn’t see that they were essential for battling the very things we were supposed to be taking a stand against.”

“He wanted you to grow up to be just like him.”

“In a sense. Although, to be honest, I think my father would have been happiest had I grown up to be just another farmer like my brother. I couldn’t, of course. Magic would have found me whether I’d been taught or not. The same can be said of Marsha’s brother.”

“Randy? Is that why you were acting so weird about him? But Randy’s not magic. Trust me, I’ve known that kid since he was little. He’s just a yo-boy. There’s nothing magic about him, unless you count how he can keep his pants from falling all the way down when he walks.”

“I’m not sure what a yo-boy is,” Levi said, “but trust me when I tell you that Randy has the gift. He was born with the abilities. They’ve just never been awoken in him. Probably because there’s been no one in his life who recognized his talent. I would guess that he’s had moments of luck—like tonight, when the vehicles started after he touched them. Little bits of synchronicity such as those are very much part of what we do. The trick is to recognize them when they happen and harness or control them, bending them to your will. Had he been properly taught, he’d be formidable against our foes.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Train him?”

“No!”

Levi said it so strongly that Donny took a step backward. At first, he was afraid that he’d somehow offended Levi. The older man stood stiffly, his expression serious and grave.

“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