Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel by Leanna Ellis

thoughts. “Samuel!”
    The young man flopped over, his long limbs wrestling the covers, and one arm swiped the books right off the table. They fell to the floor in a heap, pages crumpling, spines cracking, and out of them poured a fresh hoard of creatures.
    Black disfigured beasts plunged into the room with a rush and flutter. They swirled about but steered clear of Remiel, who never blinked at their appearance nor seemed afraid. He stood completely still, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword, blade pointed toward the floor.
    “Great!” Jacob exclaimed with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Now what?”
    “Close the books,” the angel repeated, without really offering any help at all.
    But how? Jacob couldn’t close the books himself. He’d have to force Samuel to do the task. Jacob hollered, “Samuel, wake up!”
    Eyes fluttered, then his brother grunted and shifted.
    Before Samuel could settle back into sleep, Jacob whispered, in what he hoped was an imitation of his father’s voice, “Samuel, you are late.”
    Those eyes sprang open. The youngest Fisher brother sat bolt upright, rubbed his chest, and blinked against the darkness of the room. Jacob grinned at his success. But before he could congratulate himself, Samuel flopped back onto the pillow and rolled onto his side. He lay very still, staring at the side table for a moment.
    Once more, Samuel pushed himself upright. Swinging his long legs out of the bed, he scooped up the books, closing those lying open. Some of the creatures were sucked back into the pages from which they’d come, but a couple escaped through the walls of the house in a whoosh.
    “That will not fool them for long,” Remiel said. “They will be back.”
    “Then what can send them running for good?”
    The first glint of a smile tugged at Remiel’s firm lips. “Someone like me.”
    “How can I get one of you for Samuel?”
    Remiel stared down the sharp slant of his nose. “You think you have this power?”
    “You do. You could do it!”
    “It is not for me to decide.”
    Jacob sighed and moved toward the bed. He peered down at his brother, blissfully asleep again. Leaning down, he whispered, “Samuel, you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free. ”

Chapter Thirteen
    Hefting the wheelbarrow, Samuel steered it toward the stalls, the wheel wobbling and making the cart go catawampus. With a pitchfork, he tossed in fresh straw, and tiny bits and pieces fluttered in the air. His head felt muzzy from lack of sleep.
    Swiping a sleeve over his face, Samuel filled a bucket with feed, then reached up to put the scoop on the shelf. A square object snagged his attention. What was a book doing out here? Samuel dusted off the cover and felt his skin tighten. His hand splayed the cover and then he thumbed the pages.
    When some Beloveds, ’neath whose eyelids lay
    The sweet lights of my childhood, one by one
    He recognized the poem Levi had sent. Was this Jacob’s book, the one he’d given to Hannah? He flipped more pages.
    There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee;
    Thou standest alone, as the nightingale sings!
    A wisp of a smile felt like a soft spring breeze drifting over his face. The poem made him remember a girl from his childhood. She sat in the wispy, dry grass along Hallelujah Creek, her face shaded by her bonnet. She was hunched so far inside her winter coat next to a hickory stump, Samuel had missed her until she spoke.
    “I heard them making fun of you.”
    He stood at water’s edge, his boots muddy, and Mamm would not be pleased. He shrugged and kicked a dirt clod. “Who cares? Book learnin’ is stupid.”
    When she didn’t respond, he looked back at her. She scribbled in a notebook. Ignoring her, he picked up a rock and chucked it in the water. It made a glump of a splash. Stupid as it was, it made him feel better, so he picked up another rock.
    “Here,” the girl said.
    Samuel tossed the rock in the air and caught it. “What?”
    “I wrote