Prologue
Devonshire, England - 1668 AD
3rd person POV
Esmerelda glared daggers at the gathering crowd as she and her sisters were dragged to their stakes. This was their thanks? This was their gratitude for curing that sickly child? Evangeline had been right—they never should have let Catherine convince them to help the boy. His ungrateful mother had taken their help, and run straight to the Church to report them for witchcraft.
As she was ushered past the woman who had reported them, she gave her a malicious and wicked smile. If the town wanted witches, then by Circe they would get witches.
"A curse on you, you filthy whore! May your womb become as blackened and infected as your heart! Let that son of yours be the only one you bear your husband! And when you least expect it, may your husband pay for the gift of your child's life with that of his own! This is my will–so mote it be," Esmerelda hissed.
The young mother burst into tears and Esmerelda cackled. The soldier yanked her away from the family, but the damage was done.
Catherine and Evangeline rolled their eyes at their sister's words–she had always been the more vengeful of them. But she should have been saving her energy for their final act in this life–not cursing that wretch (as satisfying as it may have been). The three girls had accepted death. They knew they would live again to take vengeance on those who had crossed them. Particularly the wretched Cullens who had dared come after them for saving a child.
They stood silent as the soldiers tied them to their stakes, watching on with an indifference that unsettled the villagers who had come to watch. The only emotion they showed was when their eyes turned to the pastor's son as he spoke to them directly. Hatred seemed to flow off them in waves as they stared him down.
"Esmerelda, Evangeline and Catherin McKinnon. You stand before God, accused of witchcraft—how do you plead?" he asked, as though judgement hadn't already passed.
Catherine and Evangeline deferred to their sister, as was their way. Their looks of hatred never wavering as Esmerelda began to speak.
"Carlisle Cullen, you stand there and defy your false god by lying through your teeth, you claim that we are being tried, but you know as well as we do that we are already guilty in the eyes of the community.
"My sisters and I have no use for falsehoods. We cured that boy of his sickness at his mother's request. The duplicitous whore then assumed we would demand payment—which she knew she could not provide—and turned us into you to escape her perceived debt, the idiotic fool never realized that we cared not for her coin or livestock, our only interest was in seeing the flush of health and life return to her innocent son's cheeks.
"Yet she assumed—" Esmerelda glared into the crowd who all took a startled step back, "—as do all of you, that we are greedy, worthless children of a devil we do not believe in. Defiers of your hypocritical god, and sinners—all because we do not follow you insipid ridiculous practises. By any definition you filthy mortals care to give, we are guilty. But by our own, our only crime was to assist a black-hearted wench who will rue ever crossing us." She turned to the pastor's son. "As will you, boy."
As one, the sisters reached deep within themselves, to their wells of power and magical crystals they had swallowed earlier, drawing energy to power their magic. As they shared one mind, the sisters began speaking in unison.
"Hear us fire; hear us earth; hear us water; hear us air; hear us spirits." Their eyes glowed an unearthly violet as they chanted, "We call upon the elements to bear witness to our promise. Carlisle Cullen—on your head we lay a curse: you will become the very monster you so assiduously hunt. You will know the pain of endless solitude, and only through true remorse will you ever find peace."
Catherine and Evangeline stood silent as their sister finished the curse. "In the name of the goddess Nemesis, so mote it be; three times three, we seal this curse with a sacrifice and a promise—the sacrifice of our lives and the promise to live again. By the calendar of the Romans, on the third hour of the seventh month on the thirteenth day, we will be reborn." Her eyes narrowed and she added softly with the curl of her lip at the pastor's boy, "I will come for you."
The pastor, Gregory Cullen, was red in the face with fury as he shouted at the men holding the torches, spit flying out his mouth, "Burn them! By their own admission, they are witches! Children of the Devil himself! Let them burn for their crimes against God!"
Carlisle Cullen stood behind his father and a shiver of dread ran down his spine. Staring into their unnaturally violet eyes, he was frozen to the spot, unable to move.
They are creatures of the devil! He thought frantically, desperate to convince himself. Their wicked magic will die with them! But even as Carlisle tried to convince himself, he knew it was a lie. Deep in his heart, he knew their curse would come to be.
The flames began to lick around the sisters as the wood caught alight. The community watched, horrified, but unable to look away. The sisters stood there, silent as the burning flames licked away at their flesh.
Suddenly they smiled, tilting their faces up to the sun and closed their eyes as the flames flared rapidly. As though urged on, the fires reached out to the soldiers who had lit them, scorching them. The firestarters writhed in agony, beating at the flames as a divine whisper of fury ran through the villagers, scattering them in fear.
As quickly as the fire had flared, it died down almost immediately. The villagers gasped, drawing closer to the now-empty stakes. Where the three witches had once stood, there were now three piles of ashes.
There could be no doubt in the villagers' minds. No natural fire could have reduced the bodies to ashes in such a short amount of time; the witches had taken their deaths into their own hands.
Forks, WA - 1987 AD
"The time is three am, September thirteenth." The doctor smiled. "Congratulations, Mrs. Swan—you've just delivered three healthy baby girls!"
Renee smiled at her husband and mother as she claimed one of her daughters. Exhaustion lined every muscle of her body, but now she had three daughters who would adore her—it was worth it. "They're perfect," she breathed in relief.
Charlie nodded, barely listening as he held his gorgeous second-born in his arms. Renee's mother held the third, having liberated her from the nurse that had just finished cleaning the little angel.
"What are we going to name them?" Charlie traced his little angel's nose in reverence. All the ultrasounds had only ever shown one, but with his three angels here, he couldn't even contemplate only having one. Three was the perfect number. "We expected Isabella, but these two little ones are a surprise." He rocked his daughter to the side. "A beautiful surprise you are. Yes, you are!"
But under his delight, Charlie was worried. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to support all five of them. Renovations were going to be needed on the house as the girls grew, and that was going to cost money. Money he didn't have. He didn't make much as the Deputy, and his expected promotion to Chief when the current one retired next year wouldn't bring much more in either.
He glanced over at his wife who was chatting with her mother. He had fallen in love with her free spirit, but these days it was getting hard to remember why. She had been spending a lot of money on her hobbies lately—so much so that he almost couldn't pay for gas just to get to the hospital. If she kept up those habits, he definitely wasn't going to be able to support them all.
He turned back to the angel in his arms, smiling instantly at her gorgeous yawn. He was going to have to put his foot down with Renee's spending habits. After all, it was for their daughters—she would understand.
"I want to change Isabella's middle name," Renee said suddenly, gazing into her daughter's eyes. The pain meds must have been messing with her vision because, for a second, it had seemed like her daughter's brown irises had flashed violet. She shook her head. What a silly thought! My daughter's are perfect.
"I don't think Marie quite fits. I want to change it." She tilted her head and the perfect name came to her. "Esmerelda! Yes—Isabella Esmerelda Swan," she said with a satisfied smile.
Charlie nodded, looking down at the little angel in his arms. "This one has the rosiest cheeks. What about Rosalie?" he asked, looking at his wife.
Renee thought for a moment before nodding. 'Yes. Rosalie…Catherine! Rosalie Catherine Swan," she pronounced.
"That just leaves this one," Renee's mother—Ester—said, gesturing with her chin to the baby in her arms.
"Any suggestions?" Charlie asked and Ester hummed for a moment.
"Mary Alice," she said, satisfied and Renee beamed.
"Oooh, yes! I like that one! Mary Alice Evangeline Swan," Renee declared with finality. Charlie nodded as he handed his darling Rosalie over to the nurse to go sign the birth certificates.
