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reached for the handle and she suddenly
drew her hand back, clutching it to her chest.
    What if I’m not having
some tripped out reaction to drugs? What if I actually am on a farm full of
Amish vampires?
    She rolled her eyes. Too
much late night TV, Li, but Amish vampires would be a cool premise. Barn
raisings could be treacherous—all those wooden splinters flying around
willy-nilly. And how would they farm in the sun—
    Focus! Right. Escape.
    She reached for the
handle and opened the door. Waving her fingertips in a shard of sunlight just
to be sure, she sighed when nothing happened. Only you would believe such
crap.
    She glanced up the steps
one last time—still no Christian. She took off. It was May and by the placement
of the sun she imagined sometime in the early morning. Her legs carried her
swiftly to a cluster of trees and she paused. Her feet were slimy from the dewy
grass. She frowned at the black soles, awkwardly lifting her foot.
    Once she caught her
breath she took a minute to look around. Field after field lay in the distance,
all in the valley surrounded by green mountains. Houses dotted the emerald
canvas here and there, but no sign of anyone she could ask for help. She
spotted an old stone barn in the distance and thought she saw smoke. Not having
much choice, she ran in that direction.
    The land had more of an
incline than she imagined, yet she was barely winded and she’d been going at a
dead run for over five minutes. Her stamina was amazing. Her steps slowed, her
trajectory curling around the stone barn like a ball player runs the bases.
    The scent of smoke was
sharp and outdoorsy. She crept around the corner of the building and spotted a
man tossing scrap wood into a contained fire. He was singing. She listened, her
fingers gripping the corner of the barn. He really wasn’t very good, but she
sort of recognized the song. He was singing Nirvana.
    Definitely not Amish,
then.
    She cleared her throat
and he turned, his face was younger than his body, still showing youth around
his eyes, yet his shoulders and arms were that of a hard working man’s.
    His glare sliced through
her—not the welcome she was hoping for from an outsider. She drew back, but it
was too late. If he were part of the cult—which he could very well be with that
cold look in his eyes—he wouldn’t help her.
    “Who are you?”
    She stepped around the
corner and into full sight. “I’m Delilah. I need help.”
    He frowned. “How did you
get here? This is private property.”
    “Please. I just want to
go home. I was taken by a crazy man who drugged me—”
    “Drugged you?”
    “Yeah. I think it was
acid, or tainted Kool-Aid, or maybe even bath salts. I don’t know, but I don’t
have much time. Can you help me?”
    He looked at her attire.
“Where did you get that shift?”
    She looked down and
yanked the thin fabric away from her front where her nipples poked indecently
through the sheer material. “The crazy guy gave it to me. I think he wanted me
to join his cult. He’s staying at that Amish farm over there.”
    The man tensed. “Did you
say Amish?”
    “Yeah, but they aren’t
very Godly. I’d keep my distance if I were you.”
    “What was the crazy
man’s name?”
    A little voice in her
head told her to stop talking. Reluctantly, she asked, “Why?”
    “Just curious.”
    Her lips pressed tightly
together. She thought for a moment, sensing the Nirvana singing man might
actually be a member of the cult. “Look, if I could just use a phone—”
    “You will not find a
phone here, pintura. ”
    Delilah jumped at the
sound of Christian’s voice in her ear. Strong fingers wrapped firmly around her
upper arm. She gave the other man a pleading look.
    “Yours?” Nirvana guy
asked Christian.
    Christian’s expression
was blank. “Mine. I’ll thank you to keep this to yourself, Dane.”
    The man propped a four
by four under his arm and suspiciously eyed Christian. “Why all the secrecy?”
    Christian shifted