The Hallowed Ones

shelter.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I told her that I’d kill her family if she didn’t obey. That I’d kill all of you if she didn’t bring me food. I even threatened to kill the pregnant dog with her puppies.” His jaw jutted out, and his voice was harsh. “She’s a good little obedient girl, that one. Does what she’s told.”

“That’s not true.” Tears sprang to my eyes. I knew what he was trying to do.

He stepped forward, raising his voice. “Shut up, you dumb bitch. And, yeah, I raped her. I forced her when she came to check on the dogs this morning.”

My mother choked back a sob and pressed the dishtowel to her face.

“She fought hard, but . . . how could any of you resist a piece of ass like that?” He gestured contemptuously at me, then Elijah. “How about you?”

Elijah slugged him. Alex didn’t fight back, didn’t fall, just turned his cheek and stared at him.

The Bishop stared at me. “Is this true?”

I shook. I knew that Alex was trying to save me, that he was as good as dead. But he was trying to buy me a little time. Tears blurred my vision, and my mother came to me and wrapped her arms around me.

“How could you ask such a thing?” she snarled at the Bishop.

“It’s not true,” I said. I lifted my chin. “He’s lying. I took him in willingly. He was injured, and none of you would help.”

Alex sneered at me. “See? I’ve got her wrapped around my little finger.”

My father shoved him in the chest. “Enough.”

I swallowed hard. I had never seen him get violent with anyone before.

“I went to him willingly,” I cried. “I went to him willingly then, as I did last night.”

My mother sobbed behind her fingers. “Katie, please . . .”

Alex closed his eyes.

Rage stained my hot cheeks. “And I went to him the night before when he helped the Hexenmeister and I keep the contagion from spreading, when we kept the Hersbergers from becoming monsters . . . from becoming vampires. What the Englishwoman said is right. There are vampires among us.”

I stabbed my finger at the Elders, aware that my voice was shrill and hysterical. “I have seen them. And the Hexenmeister, with his Himmelsbriefen, is the only one who can save us. But you have silenced him, so he cannot help us.”

My voice echoed in my ears, full of tears and rage. It felt useless, against the black wall of the Elders. But at least I had spoken the truth.

The Bishop looked from Alex to me, nodded to the Elder holding the rifle. “Take them both Outside.”

“No.” My father stood between him and me. This was the first note of defiance I’d ever seen in him. “My daughter is a victim.”

“Your daughter has let an Outsider inside. He is likely the one to blame for all the other—”

“No!” I shouted. “He didn’t do it. It was the vampires. Ask the Hexenmeister.”

My mother flinched. The Bishop cast a murderous gaze on me. “She goes with him. She is now under the Bann.”

“She may be too trusting,” my father said. “She’s been abused, and we will take care of her.”

“She is still under the Bann.”

“You cannot do that,” my father protested. “You can throw the Outsider beyond the gate. He is not one of us. But you cannot place an unbaptized person under the Bann.”

The Bishop’s pale eyes narrowed.

“You cannot,” my father said, his voice shaking in anger. I saw in that moment how truly strong he was. “It’s against the Ordnung. She has not formally accepted the church. If you place her under the Bann, you must place every child in this settlement with a pair of blue jeans in his closet or a radio in her dresser under the Bann. The Ordnung cannot be suspended in times of crisis. The Ordnung is law, and we will continue to follow it.”

A heavy silence hung over the yard. I’d never seen anyone challenge the Elders, argue with them on a point of law. My father was correct. He’d called the Bishop out on his selective interpretation of the Ordnung.

But what remained to be seen was whether or not the Bishop would acquiesce. Whether he would try to save face or fight.

After a long moment, the Bishop grudgingly nodded in my direction. “Get her under control. We will decide about her later.”

Another Elder entered the yard leading the white horse on a bridle.

My heart sank to see the horse captured. They must have found him at Herr Stoltz’s house with the black mare. And they must have known that he did not belong to any of us. Or else Herr Stoltz had been forced to tell them.

The Bishop nodded at the horse. “Tie the Englisher to the horse. Turn them loose beyond the gate.”

“No!” I shouted, remembering the single bloody boot I’d found in the horse’s saddle. “That’s certain death. The vampires will devour him. You’re a murderer, just the same as if you shot him the day you found him!”

My mother clapped her hand over my mouth. Elijah grabbed my wrists, and they began to pull me back into my house.

I kicked and fought against them, biting my mother on the hand. I saw the Elders turn and march Alex away before the door slammed and cut me off from the world.

* * *

My mother dragged me down to the spring room. She cried when she saw the blood on the inside of my thigh, scrubbed me so hard that I ached. I would not look at her. No matter how hard she tried to wash the sin away, I was a defiled woman. Her hopes for me, the future that she wanted so desperately for her child, was ruined.

She watched me dress. As she did so, I heard another crying jag begin. I stole that moment to steal the Himmelsbrief away from my dirty dress and hide it in the pocket of my clean apron. I waited expectantly for her to wash her face, blow her nose, and send me upstairs to my room. When I got up there, Ginger was still sitting upright in her nightgown, staring at the wall. I noticed that the beds had been stripped and Sarah’s things had been taken from the room. Only a Bible and a copy of the Ausbund lay on my naked bed.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I heard a key turn in the lock.

I snarled in frustration and collapsed on the bed.

I felt Ginger’s vacant gaze upon me. “Sounds like you pissed them off.”

“Ja. I really pissed them off.”

She slowly reached beside her for her basket of yarn and offered me a ball. “Would you like to start a project of your own?”

I started to bite off a snide remark, but then I looked at the thick yarn she was winding around her fingers. My eyes flicked to the window.

Ginger lifted an eyebrow.

I flattened my mouth and reached for the yarn.

* * *

I was a fast hooker.

Well, at least, that was what my mother said about my crochet skills.

I worked on the yarn all day, using up all the balls of wool in Ginger’s basket and unraveling part of her afghan. The yarn was stretchy, and I tried to make stitches that were tight and inflexible. Looking out the window, I gauged the distance between the lintel and the ground to be about twenty-four feet.

When I heard footsteps on the stairs, I jammed my project under the bed and grabbed my Ausbund. I succeeded in getting it open on my lap when my mother came in with lunch for us.

She looked at me, teared up, and left the dishes on the bed. When the door was shut and locked, I heard her crying.