Except for one person.
Levi Stoltzfus was putting his grocery bags in the back of his buggy when he saw the girl. She was young and pretty, dressed immodestly and wearing dark sunglasses at night. But that wasn’t why he noticed her.
Her aura was what attracted his attention. It was black.
All human beings have auras. Levi had been able to see them since birth, and his father and grandfather had taught him how to read them. Their colors varied, encompassing the entire spectrum. A trained eye could tell if a person was healthy or sick, happy or sad, just by noting the color of their aura. Different colors meant different things. But auras were never black. At least, not human auras.
Black meant something else.
His horse, Dee, whinnied nervously as the girl passed near them. Pointedly turning his attention away from the young woman, Levi patted the animal’s neck and stroked its mane, whispering soothing words of assurance that only the horse could hear.
“Easy now, Dee. I feel it, too. Calm down. This too shall pass.”
Her footsteps echoed on the blacktop. His free hand drifted to his coat, patting the bulge over his left breast. A battered copy of The Long Lost Friend lay snuggled in his inner pocket. It had been his father’s, and his father’s before him. 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 reason to doubt it, except for maybe the last part—the bit about unjust sentences. His excommunication from his church and professed faith still chafed at his pride, even after all these years. It had cost him everything—his love, his friends, his community. He didn’t like being an outsider, didn’t like being alone. Who would? But still, it was God’s will, and a small cross to bear, all things considered.
As his father, Amos, used to say when he thought no one else was listening, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch or a charismatic evangelical Christian to live.”
Dee stomped her hooves and whinnied again. The air grew colder as the girl passed by. Across the parking lot, a baby shrieked. Dogs barked somewhere in the night. Levi mouthed a silent prayer:
“The cross of Christ be with me. The cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire. The cross of Christ overcomes all weapons. The cross of Christ is a perfect sign and blessing to my soul. Now I pray that the holy corpse of Christ bless me against all evil things, words, and works.”
The young woman stopped a few yards away from him. Levi stole a quick glance at her. The girl turned her head toward him. Levi saw his reflection in her sunglasses. Dispensing with pretense, he continued out loud, his voice barely a whisper, issuing a challenge of sorts.
“Enoch and Elias, the two prophets, were never imprisoned, nor bound, nor beaten, and came out of their power. Thus, no one of my enemies must be able to injure or attack me in my body or my life, in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Ut nemo in sense tentat, descendere nemo. At pre cedenti spectatur mantica tergo.”
Ignoring him, the girl walked on. Dee calmed down after she was past them. Levi kept petting the horse, watching her go. Darkness swirled around her, blacker than the surrounding night. Levi shivered. He suddenly felt very cold. His stomach clenched and his breath caught in his throat.
Something was very wrong with the girl. She wasn’t human. Well, she had been at one time—recently, judging by her appearance. But no more. Now, she was something else. Not evil. Levi had faced evil many times, had seen it reflected in both human and inhuman beings. The girl wasn’t satanic. He was sure of it. If she had been, she would have responded to his challenge. This was something else, something beyond the Judeo-Christian pantheon or any of the world’s other major religions. Whatever the girl was—possessed, otherworldly projection, or pan-dimensional manifestation—she wasn’t evil. Her presence went beyond evil. He sensed it. Saw it in the girl’s aura. In the way she’d ignored his prayer.
Levi had some experience in such matters.
The Lord had put him here, that much was certain. God had sent him to the Safeway for groceries tonight so that their paths would cross. So that he would recognize the threat. This was his calling. His birthright. His curse.
He sighed. It was still a long ride home, and there was much to do once he got there. Levi rented a small, one-story house in Marietta. His neighbors pretty much left him alone, whispering quietly to each other about “the nice Amish man next door.” Levi found that mildly irritating. He’d tried explaining to them over and over that he was no longer Amish, but they still insisted on referring to him as such. Maybe it was because he still preferred the long beard of his former people, or perhaps because he still adhered to their plain dress code: black pants and shoes, a white, button-down shirt, suspenders, and a black dress coat, topped off with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Or because he drove a horse and buggy rather than a gas-guzzling SUV.
The rental property had a two-car garage out back. One half had been converted into a stable for Dee; Levi had turned the other section into a woodshop. During the week, he made various goods—coat and spoon racks, plaques, lawn ornaments, and other knickknacks—and sold them every Saturday at the local antiques market. It was an honest, decent living. The Lord provided. But Levi also had another, more secret occupation.
He worked powwow, as his father had, and his father before him. Patients, mostly the elderly who remembered the old ways, or the poor who couldn’t afford the more modern methods, came to him seeking treatments for various ailments and maladies. He dealt with everything from the common cold to arthritis. Occasionally, he’d be called upon for more serious matters: stopping bleeding or mending a broken bone. He usually saw two or three patients a month—not nearly as many as his father had tended to when he was alive—but, modern age, modern sensibilities. People didn’t need his help anymore. They didn’t even need doctors. Modern man had the Internet—a font of medical knowledge. The first thing Levi had done when he left the congregation was purchase a computer and dial-up Internet service. He hoped the Lord would grant him enough money to get a cable modem, but so far, none had been forthcoming. Levi loved the Internet. It symbolized all that was right and wrong with mankind. He found it fascinating. And useful to his trade. Many times, he’d exchanged notes and information with others around the world—faith healers, witch doctors, warlocks, shamans, hougans. Their differences in beliefs didn’t matter. They all answered to a higher purpose, and they all had something in common. They were outsiders, Levi and the others.
Despite his knowledge, Levi’s abilities had limits. There were no herbs or ingredients to combat cancer, for example. Only prayer could cure that, and the Lord didn’t seem inclined to oblige. Levi had experienced failures. They haunted him. But so far, his successes had far outweighed his failures. Yet there were times when he was charged with doing more than helping the sick or curing livestock.
This was one of those times.
“Thy will be done, Lord. Thy will be done. Although I wish you’d have let me get my ice cream and milk home before you called on me. They’ll go bad sitting out here. And I’ve still got to feed Crowley. Wouldn’t do to let him starve, unless you plan on sending him some manna.”
Dee neighed in agreement. Or maybe dis plea sure. Levi couldn’t be sure.