Chapter 1: Entry 1: Questionable Innocence

HELLO GUYS! Thanks for choosing to read my story. I'll keep this first chapter short and sweet so you can get an idea of what this story is about. Here's the full summary that I couldn't fit into the 384 words.

IMPORTANT: The summary plays a key role in your understanding of my story so make sure you sacrifice the three seconds of your time it takes to read it!

Summary:

Scarlett's father risked his life to create a half-human, half-vampire spawn that he could utilize as a bodyguard. His result was a fiery daughter that showed few signs of her vampire nature until she turned eighteen. Russell Westley Tathe Baird IV is the prince of the largest coven in the western hemisphere, but he needs his mate to survive long enough to become king. The only problem is that Scarlett's father has hidden her away from the vampire world in order to protect himself from the vampires who look to kill him for his treacherous crimes. When Silence Screams is a story about reading in between the lines, forbidden romance, and secrets that have potential to wipe out the vampire race for good.

NOTE: Not all vampires have mates; due to the pureness of blood, only nobles and the royal family are known to possess this trait . Once a pure-blooded vampire is mated with a vampire that is not of the pureblood, the mating trait is lost.

Chapter One: Questionable Innocence

- Prince Russell Westley Tathe Baird IV -

I steel myself for the sight about to greet me. Upon my entrance to the dungeon I know that the meeting will not go as I have planned. Even so, I am not prepared for what I see when I step inside the cell I am lead to. Centuries spent training to control my emotions are all that allow me to maintain my steady countenance as my heart contracts painfully. My heart then goes into overdrive, pumping heaping doses of hot anger through my body. At least that is how I feel at this moment. The thought of my heart actually pumping is enough to make me smile. You see, a vampire does not have a heart or a soul for that matter. Even if I were human and had a heart, I would expect for God or what ever supernatural power lies out there to have ripped it out of my chest by now as punishment for my actions. I view my survival as enough proof that God does not in fact exist, for no being as pure as God would allow such evil as what lies inside our race to survive on his precious Earth.

Despite my practice with painful images and brutality, I have never, in all my years of unlife, seen anything as devastating as the sight of the vampire chained to a dungeon wall in front of me. I recognize the familiar structure of his face; his name is Connor Owens. A month and a week ago we were close friends, brothers even. Not any more, though. Through some sort of sick joke, fate has stole that friend I once held close.

Two months ago, Connor had been warned by the seers, vampires that could glimpse into the future, that he needed to find his mate else he suffer the unspoken consequences of not locating the girl in time. Connor had taken the warning lightly, and the both of us had wasted precious time screwing other girls and ignoring our responsibilities to realize the importance of him finding his 'other half', as the elders referred to it. Conner had pushed off the search for his mate and only started his search for her with only one week to spare`. Two days ago I requested permission to send a scouting party after the two of them as a joke. I had figured that the couple was so busy loving each other to realize that a month had passed since they met. I blamed their lack of contact on their shared passion. The very thought of Connor in love had me laughing - an activity I so rarely participate in; I don't believe in eternal love or true mates. The girl would merely satisfy Connor, that it all. He, like me, will never love anyone. And so I allowed Connor his month of 'passion'. Soon afterwards, my impatience finally prompted me to send a search party remind Connor of his previous home and friends.

Yesterday, I received word that my scouts had located Connor, and I was overjoyed. However, they also reported that everything was not well with my friend. As I now look down at his worn face, I know exactly what my scouts had meant. My friend has gone rogue. It occurs to vampires who don't find their mates in the given amount of time; once the mating process starts, the first stage of the mating bond must be completed within two months. If this is not accomplished, the male mate goes crazy with blood-lust and usually starts a killing spree in a nearby town. When a vampire goes rogue, every semblance of sanity is lost. All that is left is an animalistic survival instinct. This lack of sanity however does not render rogues harmless, far from it in actuality. The intelligence of the creatures is what makes rogues dangerous. The rogue is in no way the Connor that I once knew, but the rogue that now controls Connor's body has access to his memories.

"Connor Owens," I say, using both his last name and my authoritative voice. As prince of one of the largest vampire covens in the supernatural world, I find myself using this voice much more often; however, I have never before spoken like this to Connor. "Tell us what happened to you during this last month. Where is your mate?"

My father has entrusted me with the duty of watching over all threats to the kingdoms safety, which included rogues, humans who believe vampires exist, werewolves, aggressive vampire covens, and I am also indirectly in charge of preventing the births of any dhampirs. I came into this position after watching my mother murdered by one of the few dhampirs alive. I was only one-hundred and five when it occurred and have never forgotten her death. Nearly a hundred years later, I finally avenged her death and killed the all living dhampirs - an easy feat considering there were only seven living dhampirs. Soon after their deaths, I was recognized as the unofficial dhampir killer. The title, however, has little importance anymore considering that dhampirs have been pronounced extinct by the head council.

When and if a dhampir is born again, we will be ready for it. You see, dhampirs have a special scent that distinguishes them from normal vampires. It is always the same, a sugary sweet aroma that drives normal vampires into a state equivalent to a rogue's bloodlust. All the vampire can think about is tasting the dhampir's blood. Vampire must train themselves to ignore the enticing scent, and over the past few centuries, I have helped our coven train to do just that. If a dhampir is alive, we would know, and we would kill it.

What it comes down to is that I hold the responsibility of handling threats to our coven's safety, and rogues are one of the most dangerous hazards to vampires. Rogues risk exposure when they go out and kill humans. Our coven strongly believes in controlled feeding, which means that vampires belonging to the coven can not overfeed. The amount of blood in a single human body can provide sustenance for three vampires, which means that it is against our laws for a single vampire to kill a human. Then of course there are donors to feed us. When a vampire kills even a single human in our community, they are placed on trial for endangering our kind. Rogues never receive the opportunity of a fair trial; most are just killed on sight.

"I command you to answer me," I demand at Connor's silence.

"Command me? That's a first. I don't think you've ever used that voice on me." The rogue smirks up at me, his blood red eyes and oily, shaggy hair giving him the look of a maniac. "What provoked such hostility, dear friend? Is it my new look? Were the red eyes too much?" The rogue lets out hysterical laugh, however it's voice sounds nothing like Connor's. The sound is crazed and uncontrolled, matching his appearance. His hair falls across his head in a greasy mess, and his eyes are a fluid as a red liquid as they fly around the room, as though he couldn't decide where to let them land. If I could imagine him as a human right now, he would probably be a antsy drug addict that couldn't keep still.

Apparently, my information about rogues is true. The rogue truly does have Connor's attitude and knowledge base. That is going to make this a hell of a lot more difficult. So much for taking the easy way out; I can tell that this is going to take a lot of effort on my part.

"What I see in front of me right now is not my friend. What I see in front of me is a dirty rogue who allowed evil to corrupt and control him. Whatever you are, you are far from the Connor I befriended."his mate's actions to corrupt and control his destiny. You mean nothing to me, you filth." I reply in a hard voice, trying to keep my anger from escaping. How could Connor allow this to happen! My fists tighten into balls at my side.

Instead, I pooled my anger together against a common enemy. His mate. It is, after all, her fault that my friend is now a rogue. She could have come and sought him out. She was just as responsible for finding him as he was for her. Connor could not be blamed for taking his time; he was merely enjoying the last of his days as a single, mateless vampire. She however, should have started searching for him he second she was warned about having to find her mate. She is a woman and, therefore, has nothing better to do. Having probably waited all her life it should have been a dream come true to find that she has a mate, and Connor should have damn well been able to mess around until she found him. She was, after all, imprisoning him for eternity. Connor should have been allowed his fun. The witch was going to pay for what she did to Connor.

The rogue laughs again. "I beg to differ, your highness," it sneers at me. A single ray of sunlight shines through a small hole in the stone that makes up the ceiling of the high part of the dungeon glinted off off his extended fangs, granting him the appearance of the devil himself. "This boy, this Connor Owens, is much better off as a rogue. You must not agree, but don't worry too much, because in a couple of months you will be in the cell next to mine." He swings his head to the side, motioning toward the empty cell next to him while still smirking maliciously. "By the way, how is that mate of yours? Found her yet, have you?"

I hiss at the word 'mate'. So what if I have yet to find my cursed mate; I still have plenty of time.

"Didn't think so," the rogue smirks. I have to force myself to turn away from it before I lose my temper. Once I have removed myself from his cell, one of the king's guard approaches me.

"Your highness. As prince, I am assuming you know the protocol for rogues," the vampire says. Though I realize he is respectfully trying to remind me of my duty, I am not in the mood to deal with officials.

My teeth grind together as I try to juggle my responsibilities as prince and my responsibilities as a friend. Then again, the thing in that cell is far from my friend. Connor is dead.

"Make it a swift death," I say.

The guard nods in affirmation. I walk past him, up the stairs, and out of the dungeon. Never before in my life does finding my mate seem more likely to piss me off. What the rogue had said was right; in a few months, I would be in the cell next to him. I already know that I am doomed to that fate.

The process behind mating is quite simple. When the younger mate turns three hundred year old if a vampire - eighteen when the mte is a mortal - the mating process begins. Mates of royalty should be able to sense their opposite half even before their mating process officially starts; it is only until the younger mate is of age that the mates can actually locate each other. I am not sure how the process works, but supposedly when the younger vampire is of age, the elder vampire can suddenly smell it's mate's scent all around it until it can pinpoint the exact location of it's mate. Depending on the strength of the connection between the two mates, the smell could drive the elder vampire to insanity until he or she found his or her mate; Connor's connection to his mate was very weak, so he hadn't been particularly motivated to find her. When I asked him what it was like, he said that he just woke up one morning and her scent was everywhere, and he told me that it was the best thing he had ever smelt in his unlife.

At first, Connor had been ready to go and track her down, but I had stopped him, telling him that he had a whole two months to find her and be with her forever whereas I only had two months to spend with my unmated best friend. I was the reason he was now a rogue; I had convinced him that his mate was not as important as a friend. And somehow, Connor had fought off the pull of him mate's scent.

Soon I will feel what it is like to be surrounded by my mate's scent. I can feel an intangible pressure building up inside of me, like water pooling behind a dam, I can only assume my mate's birthday is approaching. When I had told this to my tutor and surrogate father, Peppard Kelling, he had frowned at me. As the king's second-hand strategist and the prince's instructor, he possesses the power of the the sight. Peppard can see where anyone is located in the world through their thoughts. Looking into my head, he has always been able to feel what I am feeling. After a few minutes of silence, he looked up at me with a weary face and told me that something was interfering with my connection to my mate. As a royal, the connection between my mate and I should be stronger than a normal vampire's. I should be able to at least sense our constant bondc and if I was lucky, her emotions, but instead, all I feel is an emptiness where her presence should be. Peppard worries that someone is hiding her from me, and when her birthday comes about, and I am supposed to start looking for her, Peppard worries that I will not be able to find her at all.

- Excerpts from Scarlett's Father's Journal -

"Janico Lynch's Record of Experimentation"

-November 6, 1603

On this day, the queen is expected to produce a heir. Circulating around the vampire community is the tale of a witch prophesying the child to be a male with the ability to single-handedly bring down an entire vampire coven. What has become one of my greatest fears is the thought that this child might possess the strength to bring me down. I must seek out a defense against this child. Already, I have investigated the usefulness of creating a child with a human. I believe those are called dhampirs.

-July 27, 1708

James is a subject for the madhouse. I haven't the slightest idea how I created a dhampir so lacking of a brain. When I told him to kill her royal majesty, the queen, I did not instruct him to do so in front of the prince. Now the prince will be on the search for revenge, I can only hope that the prince turns out to be weaker than the prophecy states.

-May 10, 1839

James is dead, along with his six brothers and sisters. I am currently hidden from the world in a place of isolation. Each day I survive is another chance for the prince to kill me. I must locate another human to mate with quickly.

-August 18, 1848

I have not been able to find a human capable of sustaining her life as well as the child's life for more that two months of pregnancy. The last few years have granted me time to formulate a plan. If I cross paths with a human capable of carrying a vampire child, what help would a new dhampir do? The prince killed my past dampirs in less than a decade. My next dhampir can not be any normal dhampir. I have decided to start injecting my humans with vampire blood throughout the pregnancy in an attempt to create a more powerful dhampir. So far my experimentations have only slightly progressed from where they were, but I am still nowhere near producing a single supernatural child. I now focus my energy on collecting vials of the blood from powerful vampire around the world. I do not care if I have to wait twice as long as my lifetime to create this child, because I know that it will be the strongest one yet.

-September 1, 1995

The last century of my life has been devoted to finding the perfect woman to carry my child. I cared not for attraction; all I needed was for her to be human so that she may give birth to a dhampir child without the child dying prematurely. In order for this to be accomplished, the human female must possess certain characteristics. The list of these characteristics, of which I have acquired over decades of experimentation, can be found in my notes on this subject. I am writing now to prove that I have, in fact, found the woman to carry my supernatural child. I know not the human's name of her preferences; I care not for her in the least. If anything, the woman is more annoying than she is beautiful; which is quite a feat, I must say.

I will include a description of her features because experience proves that a dhampir possesses a large majority of the human mother's characteristics while only displaying the pale skin, angular features, and fangs that make up the child's vampire half.

The woman is short and thin with long, flowing, light-brown hair. It is ironic how her brown hair contains a red tint, making the overall appearance of her hair to be a dark-red color, seeming to resemble dried blood. Her eyes are a very light green, and their contrast against her black pupils make them even more distinct. The only characteristics of the woman that I know the child will not posses are her round, soft features and her dark, tanned skin.

-October 14, 1995

Today was the day of the child's birth. I was the only one to help the human through the process. Out of fear of losing the dhampir child, I refused to give the human sedatives or pain killers before or during the process. It was a miracle that the human survived as long as she did; however, in the end, she died, her fragile human body unable to supply the resources demanded to sustain the supernatural child's life. When this occurred, I was forced to cut open her weak body and remove the child myself.

It is a girl.

-December 18, 1995

The child appears to be functioning like a human rather than growing at the rate of a vampire. Her tiny, frail body does not meet my expectation of the warrior dhampir I have worked so hard for. My only guess is that the child possesses more human characteristics than expected. In a few months, I can only hope that the vampire genes will overpower the human, and she will begin to grow into her vampire heritage.

-February 3, 1997

It has been two years since the birth of my dhampir child, and I have yet to notice any supernatural qualities in her. I fear that despite my efforts to create her as a supernatural creature, the child will grow into a mundane human. All of my calculations depict her to be one of the strongest dhampir's in our history, due to my carefully selected mate and the well-planned collection of vampire genes that I had injected into the child's female mother throughout her pregnancy.

The only explanation I have considered for the child's lack of vampire qualities relates back to an old legend I have heard about a vampire who was bitten, but after his transformation, possessed no powers. Then, on his three hundredth birthday, the male awoke as one of the most powerful vampires know throughout our history. The vampire's mate was the daughter of the leader of one the largest covens. Due to the fact that the princess's mate was not royalty, the male vampire had to wait until his mating instinct kicked in to acquire his powers.

I find the story preposterous considering the fact that there are few facts to back it up, and a vampire so renown for his strength and powers would still be alive to this day. My problem is not in some sort of fantasy. My problem is a currently asleep 20.8 pound bundle of screams and squeals. I lost all my research two years ago when I was forced to flee from my lab with only the child in my arms. For the last four hundred years of my unlife, I have been hunted by vampires for creating dhampirs. Now that the vampire covens think I have created another one, they will stop at nothing to get their hands on Scarlett and me.

My only refuge is a large mansion of a house in Connecticut that I had a witch ward with anti-vampire spells. I am the only vampire who can see the house, enter the house, and sense what is going on inside of the house. To any of the other vampires, the house and the people inside of it do not exist.

Over the year that I have lived here, I have made friends in a fellow coven here. These vampires do not seem to know who I am or what I have done, so I feel safe leaving my house everyday to work at the company their leader owns. The building is guarded with similar wards to the ones I have on my house. My only trouble is having to deal with the child. I cannot let her leave me for fear that the vampires could find her and use her to track me.

Even though her powers are nonexistent, her scent is that of a dhampir. Its sweet smell and delectable taste is intoxicating to vampires everywhere; if she ever so much as stepped a foot outside of this house without proper training and her dhampir powers to protect her, she would be dead in seconds. And if the vampires did not recognize her from he distinctive scent, they would most certainly recognize the pale skin, angular features, and lack of a shadow known only to be found in dhampirs and vampires. I am stuck with the weakling girl, and she in turn is stuck inside of the room I keep her in for her own good.

- Scarlett -

You know that feeling you get when you think that maybe you are special, that maybe you are different than everyone else, that maybe you can make a difference? Well, I don't. And maybe you are special, maybe you will make a difference. I, however, most certainly am not, and I most certainly will not. The only thing mildly interesting about me is the fact that I have never left my father's house in my lifetime; I have never walked the streets of the world.

My father owns an unnecessarily large mansion. All I own is my sanity; everything else is his. My father hates seeing my face because I remind him of my mother, but even that is a guess. I truly know very little about him. All have been able to find out is that he had chosen my mother for something important, and when she died giving birth to me, my father was devastated. He calls me his little disappointment. Apparently, I am not the daughter he had been hoping for.

Three years ago was the first time he had ever hit me. I had come downstairs to find something to eat while he was working in the other room. My father heard me rummaging around in the fridge, and when I turned around we stood face to face. He asked me what I was doing, and I had snapped at him that I didn't need to report to him. My words were quickly shushed when his fist collided with the bare skin of my face. I can't describe the feeling, but one second I was facing him with my stubborn chin lifted pridefully in the air, and the next second, the force of the punch was throwing me back into the shelves of the refrigerator. I'm not going to lie, it really hurt, but I was more amazed that he would dare touch me. Ever since that day, I never leave my room when he is home.

I am not scared of my father; rather, the only feeling I have toward him is a stone cold malice so potent I swear it was sewn into the lining of my soul. I do not go near my father because I am scared of what I might do. It is not like I could kill him, but I would probably throw something sharp in his general direction, causing him to take the action as an invitation to hurt me. I am not suicidal; I want to escape this hell hole and see the world. My goal is self preservation.

Everyday, while my father is at work, I go down to our basement which doubles as a training arena. Why we have a training arena in our basement is a mystery to me, but I thank whatever divine power is out there everyday for without it I would have no way of training myself in preparation for my next confrontation with my father.

The walls and floor of our basement are covered in mats. Against one wall is a glass case holding various types of weapons. My personal preference is knives, however, I have trained with all of the weapons. Before I had started training with weapons, I taught myself how to fist fight and some karate basics referencing videos I found on the internet for instruction. Attached to the basement is a small storage room. Inside of the room are punching bags, life-sized dummies, weights, as well as various other tools and props. Training has become my release; it is my escape. Eight hours a day I spent in the basement teaching myself new ways of fighting by using the internet to my advantage. It isn't very much, but it is all a girl like me needs.

All this training was for a sole purpose; I want to get as far away from my father as possible. I want to leave and never look back. Next week is going to be my eighteenth birthday. That is the day I plan to run from this hell hole . Until that day, however, I am still stuck here.

Yawning, I force my body to pull itself off my bed. Lately, I have become very tired, even to the point of exhaustion. I figure that it is just all my training finally catching up with me. Now standing, I stretch in front of my bedroom window. The sun has not yet come up, so instead of of seeing the backyard, I see a reflection of my image in the glass. My long, unmanaged chestnut hair seems to tumble off my shoulders in tangled clumps. The red tint in it almost makes my hair appear like dried blood; a characteristic that I consider fitting since my name is Scarlett. My light, faded green eyes take in my average body and my pale skin. Like I have said, I really am nothing special. I look like any of those people called celebrities that I would would see on the television. I am utterly average.

With a sigh, I grab a hair tie from my desk drawer and leave my room to start yet another day of training. Upon opening my door to enter the hallway leading downstairs, I fell like I am stepping into a different world. Furnished and painted completely white from the white bed, desk, and dresser to the fluffy white carpet under my feet, my room contradicts the dark wood and red walls of the hallway. Yet another reminder of how much of an outcast I am. The only perk to my room is the small TV hooked up to cable and a video player, but eventually, I became bored of that too.

I want to be free, already. After seventeen years in this prison, I only have to wait one more week before my dreams become reality.

Thanks for reading. PLEASE REVIEW so that I can fix the story if something is strange or doesn't make sense about it. -Emerald