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“I know.”
The dull hum of masculine voices ceased and the meeting began. Through the wall, he could make out their words, thanks to his improved diet of Magdalene’s blood. His senses had never been sharper, but they would never be what Adriel’s or the full-bred immortals’ were.
He squinted and cocked his head as he focused on the muffled words coming from the other side of the wall. “What did he say?”
She waved a hand. “They’re still in the tiresome stage of complimenting each other and boasting their great contributions.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “However, would they make it more than a day without having their fragile egos stroked?”
Dane chuckled, appreciating Adriel’s disdain and dry wit. Unlike the other females, she wore her fiery red hair short under her bonnet.
According to the Amish, a female’s hair was her glory and to be covered at all times outside of the house. When he’d first caught sight of Adriel’s hair, he’d been shocked. Cain later told him her shorn locks were a sign of rebellion, a slap in the face of the elders who wrote the laws.
Immortal bodies maintained a natural standard of optimal health and beauty. Regardless of age, they all looked to be around their mid to late twenties and in the prime of their lives. While the hair on their heads seemed to grow past their shoulders, other hair never appeared. He assumed it had to do with evolution and a gift for self-regulating body temperature.
When he’d first slept with Maggie, she told him the others did not have hair between their legs or under their arms. It was why, unlike other Amish orders, their sect did not grow beards. Maggie only had hair on her private parts because she was a half-breed like him.
For Adriel to keep her hair short, she needed to cut it regularly. That sort of ongoing defiance did not go unnoticed and probably would have been punished if not for her son’s seat on The Council and her close friendship with the bishop. Despite the covering, he still glimpsed wisps of red sneaking out from below the trim of her bonnet.
She bounced her leg impatiently, one bare foot peeking out from below her dress. He wasn’t sure if the shoeless trend was an Amish thing or an immortal thing, but the females tended to go barefoot during most of the warm months.
“You seem tense,” He said, sensing something was bothering her.
“Christian’s not here.”
Dane frowned. It wasn’t like her son to miss a meeting. “Where is he?”
“I’m not sure. The most peculiar thing happened this morning. I stopped by his house to deliver eggs and every room was empty. The stove was cold and the windows were all shut.”
“Did he go into town?”
“Why close the windows in this heat if he was only taking a trip to town?” She pressed her lips tight. “He went somewhere, but no one seems to know where.”
“The bishop?”
“Eleazar assumed he was on the farm.” She stopped stitching and dropped her needlepoint into her lap, cocking her head curiously. “He built an indoor washroom.”
When the Hartzlers rebuilt their home after the fire they had also built one. It was rather sophisticated compared to the outhouses others used, but still archaic compared to the modern amenities Dane had grown up with. The Hartzlers had a copper-lined, self-heating bathtub connected to its own wood stove and a pull-chain latrine that drained down to the old privy.
“Maybe he got tired of walking outside.” Dane’s house didn’t have modern plumbing and shitting in the winter on a cold seat was a literal pain in the ass.
“He’s suddenly going to change his habits after three-hundred years? No, I know my son. He likes consistency and loathes modern technology. Something’s going on.”
He chuckled. “Installing an indoor toilet isn’t exactly what I’d call modern technology, Adriel.”
“It is for Christian. He’s up to something. He never misses a meeting.”
Many of the elders despised modernization and vilified any whiff of progressive thinking because they feared future headstrong generations being overrun by the lure of contemporary amenities and loose morals. Not to say the Amish weren’t innovative. They were incredibly clever and had mastered many conveniences without the use of electricity. Ice houses, root cellars, and cold streams for example, all helped preserve the food needed for survival throughout every changing season.
Morality was not a condition of immortality, but immortality was a condition of this specific Amish order. Very few exceptions were made outside of the mortals brought here by their called mates. Those people were always transitioned—converted into immortals—but that trick only worked on humans pre-ordained by God or some other such paranormal magic.
He never would have believed vampires existed, until he saw one murder his mother in the woods. The Order wasn’t vampire, but they could become so if they ignored the calling of their god. Some immortals lived five hundred years before receiving a call. Some died before ever making it that far.
