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Yes, he had been Amish at one time, but that was long ago. Levi didn’t like to dwell on it. In truth, his excommunication from the church and his professed faith still chafed at Levi’s pride, even after all this time. When he was cast out, it had cost him everything—his love, his friends, his community. Still, he’d had no choice. He did what the Lord expected of him, using the talents the Lord had given him. If the church didn’t see that, then so be it. He just wished it didn’t hurt so bad.

He’d tried to fit in among the “civilian world” (as he often thought of it), but soon discovered that he was an outsider there, as well. Away from the Amish, he was nothing more than a curiosity. An oddity. He was pointed at and discussed behind his back. He didn’t fit in among the English (the term his fellow Amish used to describe people not of their faith). Levi didn’t like being an outsider. He didn’t like being alone. But like everything else in life, it was God’s will, and Levi’s cross to bare. Sometimes, the weight grew so heavy…

He was no longer Amish. Now, he was something else, and it was that something else that he didn’t need Myrtle Danbury discovering. She’d introduced herself as an author, and the foyer of Mrs. Laudry’s bed-and-breakfast had featured several of the woman’s books on display—slim, cheaply produced trade paperbacks with garish lettering on the covers. A quick glance had told Levi everything he needed to know. The subjects ranged from healing crystals to channeling ancient Lemurian deities. Mrs. Danbury was a New Ager, the bane of Levi’s existence. Nothing annoyed Levi more than New Age amateur mystics, except for maybe Evangelical Christians. In his experience, the majority of both were hypocrites and con artists, wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing, preying on those who refused to think for themselves and discern God’s truths from mankind’s lies. In Levi’s opinion, that was the problem with religion in general. The Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs, Satanists, pagans, Hindus, Cthulhu cultists, Scientologists and every other religious group or cult, no matter how big or how small, thought that their way was the right way. In reality, none of them had it completely right, for it was not meant for them to know all of the universe’s secrets. They fought each other, killed each other, committed atrocities against each other, all in the name of their particular god or gods, without any understanding of just how wrong—how completely off base—they really were.

New Agers were the worst. At times in life’s journey, when the Lord gave him a task to complete, Levi had needed the assistance of other occultists and magicians, those not given to practicing the same disciplines that he followed. Levi had always seen this as a necessary evil. The old adage, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” quite often applied. But no matter how dire the situation or its consequences, he had never sought help from the crystal-worshipping, herbal-supplementing, Atlantean-spirit-channeling crowd. And deep down inside, Levi knew that even if he had, they wouldn’t have welcomed him. Even the New Agers would have turned their backs on him.

In the end, Levi always walked his road alone, even among the splintered ranks of occultism’s lunatic fringe. He was a stranger to everyone but himself… and God.

Outside, the howling increased, disturbing his maudlin ruminations. Their cries grew more frenzied. Levi wondered what was going on. He reached out to the nightstand and fumbled for his cell phone, which he’d plugged in to charge before he went to sleep. Like everything else in his life, the cell phone was often a point of confusion among those who assumed he was still Amish. He wondered what they expected him to use instead. A carrier pigeon? Two paper cups tied together with string? Telepathy? Actually, he had used telepathy a handful of times in his life. He tried to avoid it as much as possible, however, because he didn’t like the nosebleeds that came with it.

All at once, the dogs stopped howling. Somehow, the silence seemed worse than the noise had been.

Levi flipped open the cell phone and was surprised to see that it was dead. If there had just been no service, he could have understood. His service had been spotty for the last three days, ever since entering the mountains. But there was no power whatsoever—no backlight, no time, not even a tone when he experimentally pushed the buttons. He wondered if a power surge could have done it, and glanced at the electrical outlet in the wall. He could barely make it out in the gloom, but from what he could tell, there was no cause for alarm. The outlet wasn’t smoking or sparking.

Levi slid out of bed and shivered as his bare feet hit the floor. Was it his imagination, or had it grown noticeably colder in the room? Gooseflesh prickled his arms and the back of his neck. He stood up, walked quickly to the small, plain dresser and opened the top drawer. He quickly pulled on his clothes and shoes. He patted the pocket over his left breast and felt a reassuring bulge where his dog-eared and battered copy of The Long Lost Friend was. The book was a family heirloom. It had been his father’s, and his father’s before him. Levi never went anywhere without it. The front page of the book held the following inscription:

Whoever carries this book with him is safe from all his enemies, visible or invisible; and whoever has this book with him cannot die without the holy corpse of Jesus Christ, nor be drowned in any water, nor burn up in any fire, nor can any unjust sentence be passed upon him.

Levi had never had any reason to doubt the inscription’s truth, except for maybe the last part, the bit about unjust sentences. He knew about those all too well. Sometimes it seemed to him that life was nothing but a series of unjust sentences.

Once he’d gotten dressed, Levi dropped his hands to his sides, closed his eyes and waited. His breathing slowed. The world seemed to pause as he concentrated.

After a moment, he felt it. His eyes opened again. Something was coming.

No, not coming. Something was already here.

“Oh, Lord…”

Pulse racing, Levi ran to the window, no longer caring if his host and her annoying friend knew he was awake or not. He looked out the second-story window and surveyed the scene below. Then, as his heart began to beat even faster, Levi crossed the room and yanked open the door. He dashed for the stairwell, reciting a benediction against evil as he took the stairs two at a time and plunged toward the first floor.

Ut nemo in sense tentat, descendere nemo. At prece denti spectaur mantica tergo. Hecate. Hecate. Hecate.”

He leaped the last four stairs; his boot heels landed on the floor with a loud thump and his teeth slammed together. Picture frames and other fixtures shook on the wall. A ceiling fan swayed back and forth, sending flecks of dust drifting to the floor. Mrs. Laudry and Mrs. Danbury bustled into the room as Levi headed for the exit.

“Mr. Stoltzfus,” Esther gasped. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Levi turned to them, and the fear and uncertainty he saw in their faces mirrored what he felt in his heart. He tried to project a calm demeanor.