Wednesday, February 23rd, 1692
Salem, Massachusetts
Screams and shouts rang out through the night. Hysteria had taken over the small town in Massachusetts.
"Quick, Sarah! Downstairs and into the cellar!" hissed Margaret, the old cook. The rustling of petticoats could be heard as two women and a young girl rushed down the rickety steps. As soon as the heavy wooden door was bolted shut behind them, Sarah sunk to the cold stone floor, exhausted. The small child began to whimper and cry softly.
"Hush, Alice, my sweet angel. Mother is here," Sarah cooed as she pulled Alice into her lap.
"Sleep…" she whispered. Clinging to her mother, Alice's deep blue eyes drifted shut.
Margaret watched. Sarah's face, usually beautiful and full of life, now looked tired and worn in the dim candlelight. Her hazel eyes still sparkled though as she pulled her child closer and gazed lovingly at her. She then looked up at Margaret with sadness.
"Margaret, the witch-hunters. They will find me. I will be tried and hanged. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow night. But it will come to pass. I have seen it in the stars."
Margaret's eyes welled with tears as she tried to think of the right words to say. To reassure the poor woman, to tell her the stars could be wrong, would be a terrible lie.
"Hush, there is no need for words," Sarah's voice wavered as tears began to form in her own eyes, "I do not fear death."
The old cook sat down next the beautiful woman and child and put a comforting arm around them both. She began stroking Sarah's auburn hair.
"My dear Sarah, you are so brave…" she said gently through the tears.
Sarah turned and smiled at the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother.
"You are the brave one, Margaret," she said. But then her face became somber.
"There is one last thing I must ask of you…"
"The girl…"
"Yes…" Sarah said with a worried expression as she brushed the raven hair from Alice's sleeping face. The little girl's blue nightgown rose and fell with her breathing.
"I believe she can lead a normal life. She has a good heart, and a pure soul."
"But, Sarah dear, something…of this nature…has never happened before. We cannot be sure what her future might bring. The child of a witch and a…"
"Vampire." Sarah finished coldly. Margaret flinched at the word.
"What other choice do I have? Alice has the potential to be one of the most powerful beings this realm has ever seen. She could be a servant of the light, or to the dark. But I fear the risk of her falling into the hands of evil is too great…" she said sadly. She looked into Margaret's wise and understanding eyes.
"Please," she pleaded to the elderly woman, "take care of her when I'm gone, but do not tell her of her parentage. The Valkyrie would have her killed if they knew she carried his blood. If she does not learn magic, she will not rise to her full potential. She will lead a normal and happy life."
Margaret sighed, "I will do as you wish, my dear."
"Thank you," Sarah breathed in relief as she leaned her head back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. The shouts of men could be heard above them as many innocent women were dragged off to be tried for witchcraft.
Margaret watched the flames of the candle burn, troubled. It was true, in 4 years Alice had displayed only kindness and affection. She ate food and drank water, and played with dolls. She loved horses and flowers and candy. She was the perfect picture of a happy, healthy little girl. But certain things about her worried the old cook. For one, her skin was cold, like iron in the winter. And sometimes she moved just a bit too fast…faster than she should have been able too. But what worried her most was Alice's appearance.
Margaret looked down at the sleeping girl. Even at only 4 years of age, she was breath-taking. Perfect fair skin, rosy lips, and thick wavy hair black as night. She looked like her father. A lot like her father…