A/N: hi, this is my first story and this is a collaboration with J.S.O.P. only few twilight characters are used and most of them are original characters from us.. Hope you guys like it..

Prologue: The Hunting Of A Hunter

Essex, England 1604

"Witch, witch, where do you fly? Under the clouds and over the sky."

Eleazer sang the words softly as he walked. His voice accompanied by the hooting of owls and the slurping of the mud as it pulled on his boots, pulling them deeper into the filth. The chirping of evening birds and the calls of other drunken men. They were sounds of the evening in his village.

"Witch, witch, what do you eat? Little black apples from Hurricane Street."

The young hunter couldn't help but smile as he breathed in the scent of ash and smoke. For him it was the scent of victory, for him it meant that the world was now a slightly safer... slightly better place. For he had been the hunter to find the wicked women.

"Witch, witch, what do you drink? Vinegar and good red ink."

Eleazer couldn't help but boast his victory, the lads had taken him to celebrate. Mead, ale and womenfolk had been his reward. They must have chanted and sang his way through enough to serve the entire village. It wasn't proper for a puritan boy his age but he didn't care though, in his mind it was worth it.

"Witch, witch, where do you sleep? Up in the clouds where the pillows are cheap."

He finished the song with a slurred and quirky chuckle. His laughter grew louder, shaking his entire body. Eleazer lost his footing, he slipped and toppled into the sludge and mud that coated the forest floor. The mud coated his clothes and stuck to his hair. He continued to laugh from his bed in the mud, not noticing what he was lying in.

"Witch, witch, where do you fly? Under the clouds and over the sky."

Eleazer started to sing his song again. Calling out his words in a deep and out of tune octave.

"Witch, witch, what do you eat? Little black apples from Hurricane Street."

He was a drunken mess. Far too out of it realize that someone was approaching his limp body. Far too out of it to feel the hands pull on his limbs that hung lifeless like filled with sand. Far too out of it to feel the wind touch his skin as they carried him along.

"Witch, witch, what do you drink? Vinegar and good red ink."

They dropped him to the ground with a thud but if the boy noticed the pain he neither cared or bothered to show it. Instead he continued to sing as his abductors began to chant and sing in voices much nicer than his own. Eleazer sucked in a large breath of air as prepared to screech out the last line.

"Witch, witch, where do you sleep? Up in the clouds where the pillows are cheap."

Again he laughed at himself. His mind lost in some far off land.

"Can'ie not just get this done? Blasted voice, givin m' ears right do over he is." The voice of a girl said.

Eleazer felt a jolt of lightening jump down his spine. Then another and another. Then what little feeling he had on is legs was gone, then in his arms. Eleazer could feel the jolts but not his body.

He could no longer taste the bitter mead that had clung to the back of his throat. The way the wind blew through the trees, whistling it's song into his ears. Not even the feel of the mud that stuck and hugged his clothes to his skin.

Elezer began to panic, the feeling was returning but was different. Suddenly he could feel everything, hear it all, taste and smell all of it. Most of all he could three women stand, each he knew where from the village.

Then he saw the fire, the swirling flames and twirling embers.

He watched as the girl with fire moved towards him. The embers begun to burn at his strange unfamiliar body.

The sisters watched and waited until he was ashes. They collected it together, filling the box with the still hot remains. The eldest sister then placed on the seal. Whispering her words of respect for the dead.

Essex, England 1799

"And a handful of crushed... no, not crushed... cress or maybe... No crushed... crushed rose petals. Then pepper is it..." The girl murmured to herself as she struggled to read the words. Working by candle light wasn't the best option but she didn't dare do this craft in the daytime. Too risky.

She pressed the knife into the petals, the little moisture present trickled out. The roses had been stolen like the other things.

But the roses meant more. She remembered her mother taking her past the gardens. They were beautiful. There had been tries lining the borders, each ripe with beautiful plump red apples. When Carmen went to pluck one from a low branch her mother had scolded her, 'always take from the ground, the fresh for the lord n' lady'. Carmen hadn't known there was rules to apple eating but she took one none the less.

Carmen dropped the petals into the pot, the water around them began to dilute red.

She chopped an apple in two. One half dropped in the pot the other was skinned then added.

Carlos had loved apples, he often stole them from the garden. He and a few other boys would sit under the bridge, have their fill then share the remains. Carlos always brought her the good ones; the ones with no bruises or dents.

"Three drops... Two drops of a widows blood..." Pressing the blade to the pad of her finger, then squeezing out two droplets of the ruby red liquid. They fell into the bowl, staining it red.

Widowed at twenty, Carmen had lost them all. Her love, her parents, siblings and little Carlos.

But this would be her revenge. Carmen would summon a spirit of the dark times to do her deed. Yes, this would be her revenge...