Chapter 1

Hayden Middleton crouched down lower in the grass, keeping his eyes as level with the blades as he could manage as he carefully watched the commotion occurring in the once abandoned cottage everyone had labeled as the old Melbourne place.

The Melbourne home had been abandoned ever since its previous owner, Gregory Melbourne, had died of a heart attack. No one had realized he was dead until that next Sunday when Pastor James had stopped by to give old Melbourne some dinner for the night, which was something he did every Sunday, whether Melbourne went to church or not. Melbourne had been widowed for six years before that day he died, which was why Pastor James and his wife Elinore thought it would be nice to provide him with a meal once a week. Pastor James knocked on his door for ten minutes before he decided to go inside and check on the old man, just to make sure he wasn't bedridden. Pastor James never spoke of it, but many whispered that he had found Melbourne sitting in his armchair with the television set on, positioned as if he had simply fallen asleep.

From that day on, the old Melbourne place had remained a vacant cottage on the hill, overlooking the meadows and trees that stretched on for miles around. The Melbourne's had liked the seclusion, and had enjoyed the peace that had come from it. For years that house had sat on that hill, empty and foreboding. Well, at least until now.

The edifice was to the Melbourne's taste; humble and modest in every way. From the red shingled roof, more slanted on the right than on the left, to the white wooden frame that had faded over time, it certainly was never really built to attract attention. Hayden himself had never seen the inside of the edifice, but he had heard once or twice that the two story structure was simple to a tee, with minimal bedrooms and bathrooms and a decently sized kitchen. Everything about the Melbourne's had been simple, which was why their house had been abandoned for so long; everyone that entered it could feel that it belonged only to certain people, and could never really belong to anyone else.

Well, at least people with sense had felt that strange sensation that they didn't belong. And perhaps the new tenants had felt it too. If they had, then they had ignored the feeling, because there they stood on top of that hill near the house, carrying box after box into the house and calling out random orders to each other. Hayden's mother had said, when he had asked why they hadn't sensed that bizarre feeling when they had entered the house that they could never belong like everyone else had felt, that it was probably because they were American.

That was another puzzling piece that young Hayden was hoping to understand by spying on them. Why would a family of American's want to move out here to England? And not to London, the heart of England and the big city, but the countryside? What was so appealing to these American's out here, anyway?

Hayden settled down into the grass, carefully watching to make sure that he wasn't noticed while he observed. He wasn't exactly sure who the members of the family were, but he could guess. The older female was probably the mother. She was wearing jeans that had multicolored paint stains in various locations; white, blue, red, yellow, green, pink…they were almost everywhere, some being splotches and others splatters. Covering her torso was a light pink button up shirt, with a white tank top beneath since she wore the buttons open. She looked pleasant and carefree, her vivid auburn curls thrown into a ponytail and her warm chocolate eyes drinking in everything around her.

Running in and out of the Melbourne house were three young girls.

The one that looked like the youngest couldn't have been more than four or five years old. She was unstable on her feet as she chased after the other girls, occasionally getting distracted by something nearby but mostly eager to keep up with her sisters. She had short, honey blonde hair that was combed into pigtails, bouncing with her running body. Pale blue eyes gazed at the world around her with wonder and curiosity, as if they could never absorb enough. She looked particularly adorable in a small pink princess dress, though she had long dispensed of her tiara.

The one that looked next in line looked like she was eight or nine, with a wild disarray of curls to match her mothers. Her hair, however, was the same honey blonde as the youngest girl, but with a noticeable dark tint to it. She was all limbs and height, but she seemed capable and sporty on those limbs. She was the fastest runner of the three, and by far the most energetic. Her eyes, also a pale blue, sparked with life and an uncontainable energy that longed to burst out of her, and as she weaved through the boxes and moving bodies, she squealed and giggled with delight.

For all of her energy and athleticism, however, she was no match for the eldest girls charm, determination, and leadership. The eldest looked to be roughly Hayden's age; about twelve, possibly older or younger by a year or two. Her hair wasn't curled like her two sisters and mother, but was actually straight. The tone of her hair was a combination of her mother's and her sister's, creating a very light, delicate brown. But she had without a doubt her mother's warm brown eyes, large and sweet and gentle. The girl herself, however, didn't appear gentle. Her build wasn't made for athletics, but it was made for grace and beauty. Already her breasts were showing a sign of swelling. Her legs were firm and long, allowing her to run as if she commanded the world. Everything about her simply seemed to lead, but there was that undeniable sense that she was still very sweet.

Hayden didn't know who the father might be. There were five men there, two of them which could not possibly be the father, but of the three that were left Hayden couldn't really guess. All five men were unloading boxes from a massive truck and moving it into the house. None of them made any inclination that they were the father, and the mother never treated any of them as if they were her husband.

"Hayden!"

The call came from a distance, and the busy figures didn't hear it, but Hayden had heard it as he was being attentive to everything. Before the call could get any closer, he crouched low and began making his way over the hills to where his mother was looking for him.

"There you are," she huffed as he came racing towards her. She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at her son, an inevitable smile pulling on her lips. "Where were you then, hmm? Off spying on our new neighbors?"

"I was interested," Hayden admitted. "Did you know that there are only three little girls and no little boys? I shall have no one to play with!"

"Well, maybe those three little girls will be just as fun, dear. Come on then. Supper is ready."

She threw her arm around his neck and led him towards their own little cottage. It was only a few hills away from the old Melbourne place, and he could still see the structure from the windows and the people, but it wasn't close enough to see exactly what they were doing, and he certainly couldn't hear what they were saying anymore. Hayden would have loved to sit at the window and watched to see when they would finish unloading everything, but his mother had a different idea in mind.

"Come on then, let's get you washed up."

He begrudgingly allowed her to scrub at his face and hands, glancing in the mirror at his now reddened face. His black hair was starting to grow out again, falling onto his forehead, which was something his mother despised, but for some reason she didn't comment on its length as she usually did. Hayden had a feeling that the longer length was beginning to fit his new frame better, as he was growing taller and more angular. His once boyish face now appeared slightly more dignified due to his more prominent cheekbones, a finely curved nose set in between dark blue eyes, and a strong chin.

"Now then," Mrs. Middleton said as she and her son joined her husband at the table, "what can you tell us about our new neighbors."

Mr. Middleton glanced up from his newspaper and murmured something unintelligible before returning to the print with exaggerated earnest, his balding head disappearing behind the long pages. Mrs. Middleton put a hand to her lips to stifle a laugh, turning her blue eyes on her son as she scooped him a large helping of mashed potatoes.

"Well, the youngest daughter is little more than a baby," Hayden sighed. "I don't think she'll be much fun to play with, but the middle one looked like she might enjoy playing some football with me. She was really a good runner, and I bet if I could get a ball she would play with me. The older one looked too girly to play football with us, though, so I wouldn't ask her to play."

"Oh, Hayden, really!" Mrs. Middleton giggled. "And what of their mother?"

"She seemed like a very nice lady. She had on some strange pants, though. They were all full of paint."

"How intriguing. Well, she must do things quite differently from us, but we shall get used to it. Did you know that her husband just died?"

"No."

"Well, yes, he did, just three months ago. That's a part of the reason she moved out here. He was from England, you see, and so Mrs. Johnson, our new neighbor, that is, wanted to live here in memory of her late husband. She also is a painter, I have heard, and thought that England would inspire her in some new scenes for her work."

Hayden scooped up some mashed potatoes into his mouth, thinking about everything his mother had said.

"As long as she doesn't cause us any problems," Mr. Middleton grunted, "then I have no problem with her living there. I hope she is not expecting charity from us."

"Really, George!" Mrs. Middleton admonished.

"Well, you must realize that as a single parent who has just moved from America to England, which, may I remind you, is no small amount of money, her position is rather uncertain at the moment. Whether or not she will last out the month is in question, let alone the year she had intended to stay."

"I think that Karen will do splendidly on her own," Mrs. Middleton chided frankly. "From what I have heard, she is a strong, independent woman who is very capable. In fact, I think that we should visit her tomorrow. It will allow Hayden to become acquainted with her three girls, and allow us to become better acquainted with Karen herself before we so rashly judge her."

"I do not intend on going," Mr. Middleton sniffed, going back to his paper.

"George, you must be polite! What sort of example are you setting for your son?"

"The kind that he should do well to follow."

Despite Mr. Middleton's aversion to the idea, however, he was striding along with his wife and son towards the old Melbourne place, occasionally grumbling under his breath and glancing angrily at the plate of cookies that Mrs. Middleton was carrying in her hands. Climbing the hill and then the front porch, Mrs. Middleton knocked lightly on the faded oak door and then stepped back, smoothing back her dark brown hair and smiling widely. After a few moments, the door was opened by the same woman that Hayden had observed to be the mother the previous day. She had the same paint filled jeans on, but had changed into a baggy white t-shirt with wholes and paint splatters as well.

"Hello," Mrs. Middleton said pleasantly. "I'm Susan Middleton, this is my husband George, and our son Hayden. We're your neighbors…or at least the closest you will have to neighbors."

"Oh, hi!" the woman said in a very obvious American accent. Her voice, however, was also very lively and energetic. "I'm Karen Johnson. Yeah, a couple of people in town were telling me that I'd be living near you! Thanks so much for stopping by! Would you like to come in? Its messy since we're unpacking-"

"Oh, no, we would hate to impose," Mr. Middleton insisted, hoping to escape more quickly.

"Nonsense, I could use a break!" Karen Johnson said with a buoyant laugh. "Come on in."

They followed her inside the house, and Hayden looked around with vivid curiosity. For being such a widely talked about house and for being considered haunted, it was very cozy and normal inside, save for the plethora of boxes all throughout the house. Karen kicked a few out of the way here and there when they obscured their path, but didn't pay much attention to them, heading straight for the kitchen.

"I got the kitchen done first just so we'd be able to sit down and have a meal in all this chaos," she called over her shoulder. "We can sit and chat in there."

The kitchen was impeccably organized and clean. Compared to the rest of the house, it was perfect. Set in the center was a small table that could seat four people. The rest of the kitchen was bare, save for a few pots and pans and dishes that didn't fit in the cabinets. Karen sat down in one of the chairs and motioned for Susan and George to do the same. Susan smiled and handed Karen the plate of cookies before she sat down.

"Hayden was telling me that you have three daughters," she said after a moment of silence in which Karen had been inspecting the cookies.

"Oh, yeah, my three little princesses," Karen laughed. "Yeah, they're out running around, getting to know the place. I'm sure you want to meet them. Hey, little boy, Hayden, you want to go out and find them for me?"

Hayden glanced at his parents, shrinking into his chair nervously. Susan smiled encouragingly, so Hayden got up.

"They went that way, I think," Karen said, pointing in the general direction she thought they had run off to. "Just tell them that I said they need to back home now."

Hayden nodded and went out through the back door. There was no backyard, because they had the whole meadow to themselves. Hayden walked through the tall grass, searching through the trees and grass for any sign of the girls. It wasn't long before he could hear their squeals of delight. He followed the sound into the woods surrounding the meadows to one of his favorite locations; the stream. He had often come to play at the stream as a younger boy, and occasionally visited when he could think of nothing better to do, but even if he didn't frequent the location anymore it still angered him a little to think that these girls were going to take it from him.

Sure enough, the girls were running across the stream and splashing each other, screaming and laughing as they played in the ice cold water. Hayden suddenly felt very shy; he had never really talked to girls before, and didn't know if it was any different from talking with boys. He was intrigued, however, by their game and how they played together. Interested, he climbed into the closest tree and leaned forward to watch. The leaves kept him hidden in shadow, and he relaxed against the trunk and watched as the girls continued to splash each other. After some time, they grew tired of the game, and they began to explore some of the areas around the stream, never wandering far in case they would get lost.

"Alice, there's a boy in the tree!" the athletic girl screamed.

Hayden hadn't noticed her coming closer to his hiding place, having had his attention on the eldest girl as she ran her fingers through the stream, humming quietly to herself. Hearing the scream, the older girl looked up and raced over to the tree, looking up as well.

"There really is a boy," she remarked.

Both had the same American accent that their mother had. The older girl, Alice, seemed only curious about the small boy in the tree, but the middle daughter still was nervous.

"Go away, little boy!" she screamed, picking up a rock and throwing it at him.

"Brooke, that's not very nice!" Alice snapped, catching her arm before she could toss another. She returned her attention to Hayden. "Hi, little boy. Do you want to come and play with us?"

Hayden quickly shook his head. By now, the youngest Johnson had seen that all the interest was in his particular tree, and she came stumbling over, looking eagerly into the branches to see what it was that was so interesting. Although she probably didn't understand what was going on, she still looked at the boy in the branches as if it was as interesting as her sisters thought it was.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked, smiling. "Are you afraid? I won't hurt you. Brooke might, but I won't. I'm Alice. What's your name?"

Hayden only cringed further out of sight, refusing to reply. Alice frowned, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the boy, but her attempts to lure him into playing were interrupted by their mother's voice.

"Alice! Brooke! Carrie! Time to come inside!"

Groaning, Brooke grabbed little Carrie's hand and pulled her in the direction of the old Melbourne place. Alice looked up at Hayden.

"Well, see you around little boy!" she called, waving.

Hayden waited until he could no longer see her before climbing down out of the tree. Then, he ran back towards the Melbourne place, wondering what Alice and the other girls would say about him being there. He entered through the back, just as introductions were completed between the girls and his parents.

"There you are, Hayden!" Susan called, waving him over. "Come and meet Mrs. Johnson's daughters."

Hayden walked hesitantly to his mother's side. Alice, recognizing him, winked and waved. Brooke didn't seem to connect his face with the boy from the tree, and smiled just as readily as Alice did. Carrie was busy chomping a piece of chocolate chip cookie.

"Hayden, this is Alice, Brooke, and Carrie," Karen introduced. "Girls, this is Hayden. Hayden's twelve, and he lives very close to us. I want you to be very nice to him."

"Do you want to go play, Hayden?" Alice asked brightly.

Before he could respond, she caught his arm and pulled him outside and the way that they had come. Brooke and Carrie followed, Carrie still finishing off her cookie. Alice stopped at the edge of the stream, looking Hayden over.

"You don't talk a whole lot," she commented. "Oh well. What do you want to play?"

Hayden shrugged off her hand and shrugged his shoulders.

"If its alright with you, I just want to watch you play," he admitted.

Carried giggled and said, "He talks funny too!"

"Why won't you play with us?" Brooke demanded. "Is it 'cause we're girls and we got cooties?"

Carrie giggled and began running around, yelling cooties at the top of her lungs. Hayden backed away a step, shaking his head.

"No, I just like to watch things."

"You can watch if you want," Alice said with another smile. "We want to play princesses anyway. In fact, you can watch us play every day if you want to!"

And that was how it went for the rest of the week. Hayden would ask permission to play, and then would run to the stream, only to climb into his tree and watch the three Johnson girls play their games. Some days they played princesses, other days they played cops and robbers, and then sometimes they simply splashed each other with the cold stream water. Always, Alice would come over to the tree and ask if Hayden wanted to join them that day, and always Hayden would say he would prefer to watch. Alice would shrug and run off and play, but she would occasionally direct her conversation to Hayden, letting him know that she hadn't forgotten about him.

When a week had passed and another began, Hayden intended to play. He had seen enough of their games to realize that they weren't all as girly as he had first thought they would be. Now assured that they played entertaining games, he wanted to be a part of their fun. After receiving permission to play, he raced for the stream, his heart pumping in excitement.

Alice and the girls were already at the stream. Today, they were happy to splash each other, screaming and complaining because it was so cold but still only too happy to get the other wet. Hayden climbed into his tree to wait for Alice to invite him to play with them, hopping up and down on his usual branch impatiently. She never had the chance to ask.

Three large men stepped out of the woods and picked up one girl for each person, cupping their hands over their mouths to muffle their screams before hurrying further into the trees away from their house. Hayden watched in horror, and then reacted on impulse; he climbed down from the tree and raced after them.

He caught up to the nearest one, the one holding Alice, and began pounding his small fists against the man's back. The man turned, giving Hayden a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Then, his fist came down hard on Hayden's head, and Hayden crumpled to the ground, his vision going black. The last thing he remembered hearing before going unconscious were three girls screaming.